I dislike Casey. I always have. But I know that I won't in the future.
We were so different. She was a preppy and I was cool. I was a jock and she was nicknamed 'Klutzilla' and hated all sport except dance. She was artistic and smart, and I just wasn't. Although I did play guitar.
We fought from the moment they moved into our house. Actually our first fight was at the wedding reception when our parents got married. We fought about everything and anything. The smallest thing could spark a fight.
Although I would never admit it I knew what those fights covered up. They covered a certain heat between us. When we fought I felt the sparks fly. When I touched her, and I did take advantage of every opportunity, I felt a warmth that had nothing to with the outside temperature. I was there to see her fall. I was there to see her heart broken when my best friend tore it out repeatedly. I had to console her and stick up for her whilst to her seeming uninterested and impartial.
And she was hurt and something inside me prodded my conscience and told me to do something to help her. And usually I ended up helping her, frequently behind the scenes. Despite everything, despite my character, I stood by her and I was completely dazzled as to why I did.
The reason became only too clear when the family left us alone for a weekend. Against their better judgement I might add.
I didn't know that Casey's door was stuck. And I didn't know the handle was broken.
…You can see where this is going.
It wasn't the first time we'd got locked into a room either. For exactly the same reason.