"...page fifty-seven." I held back a yawn as I pulled out my math textbook and propped myself up on my elbow. Middle school bored the crap outta me. Especially math.

As my teacher launched into a lecture of variables review, I pulled out Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I leaned over, as if looking at my textbook page, but instead I was quietly reading my book.

About an hour later, the bell rang. My teacher was passing out homework, and I quickly stuffed my book into my bag and grabbed my homework sheet and dashed out of the classroom.

Ugh.

As usual, the the hallway was crowded as students climbed over each other to get to their next class. A cluster of girls were giggling and chatting at their lockers, glancing every now and then at a group of boys nearby. I rolled my eyes and continued to the gymnasium. I'd have to smell the sweaty and stinky air in there for another two hours-but hey, then I get to go home!

My name's Rachel. Rachel Donswa. I have long brown hair tied up in ponytail and green eyes. I wear glasses, but I take them on and off 'cuz I hate them. I'm a seventh grader that's eleven years old; I have a very annoying little brother, parents, and a very best friend named Maura Duzin(It's pronounced dozen). She has auburn hair in wavy curls, and it makes me so jealous and hate my stupid brown hair. Her eyes are a nice hazel colour, and it makes me think that she would be James Potter's sister if not for her hair.

I like Harry Potter. And doughnuts. And I hate math and English. Ta-da. You know everything about me.

I passed through the gym doors just as the bell rang. I let out an eep as the late students swarmed into the gym, pushing. I hopped onto the bleachers.

"You're late."

I sighed. "Not really. I got into the gym just before the bell. So I'm still on time." I pointed my finger at the crowd of late kids. "They're the late ones."

Maura just snorted and slid down onto the space next to me before anyone could claim it. "Whatever." My eye twitched a little, as always, because Maura's "whatever" gets on my nerves, and now I've been listening to her say it for almost five years. Yeah. It can drive me crazy.

The rest of P. E. had us doing push-ups, curl-ups, and running the track. Me and Maura were dripping with sweat when we headed inside.

"It's hotter in here," Maura groaned, stopping and fanning her face. I elbowed her in the stomach and dragged her to the locker room. If we got in there late, we would have to step over bunches and bunched of changing girls.

Luckily we got there pretty quickly and managed to change. The intercom crackled to life and began announcing buses that had arrived. I slung my bag over my shoulder and looked at Maura, who was standing very still, no doubt listening for our bus.

I remembered that today was Maura's day. We both set up this little schedule, where on some days Maura would listen for the bus, then on some days I would listen for it. I plopped down on the bench but Maura immediately pulled me up. "Our bus is here," she said, and we rushed to the bus loop.

Today Maura was getting off at my stop. My parents were still at work, and my brother was at daycare. So we were going to stay together at my house until Maura's parents picked her up.

When the bus screeched to a halt, I grabbed my bag and got off the bus, Maura following me. We talked about what we would do once we walked to my house.

I punched in the code for the garage door and we entered. I climbed up the stairs to my house. Maura thundered up after me.

I burst into my house, screamed, "I'm home!", and threw my bag down. I knew there was no one home, but screaming "I'm home" kind of...made me feel happy.

Maura followed me into the kitchen and carefully took her shoes off and dropped her bag on the ground. "I'll get ready an afternoon snack," I told her. "You can explore my house-again." I turned around to the snack pantry, hiding a grin. Maura laughed and left. She knew not to go upstairs. My mom hated people going upstairs.

I went in and snatched up a brownie mix and went over to the counter.

Ten minutes later, me and Maura were covered in brownie mix, and in front of us were ten very messy but quite successful brownie blobs. I washed my hands. "See? Kids can handle ovens by themselves." We both laughed and both popped a brownie blob in our mouths.

There was a loud crash from upstairs. I jerked my head up to stare at the ceiling, then glanced at Maura. "What was that?" I said, slowly and quietly.

Maura was frozen. "I don't...know," she said.

I placed my half eaten brownie on the kitchen counter and motioned for Maura to stay. Then I tiptoed to the bathroom and went to the far wall, where the two towel hanger bars were. They were both loose, as I found out a year ago. I twisted the cold metal a few times and they dropped. I raced back to Maura, handed her one, mouthed, "Self-protection," and began to slowly make my upstairs. I sensed my best friend following.

If it was a robber, then we stood no chance against them if they had guns. Neither of us knew any sword (AKA metal towel hanger) skills. Except that I had read some things about fencing. Okay, I'll admit it. I don't have the slightest clue of how to defend myself with a towel hanger.

I stood outside my room. Maura went the other way, cautiously stepping around.

And then, my room door creaked open. I tightened my grip on the towel hanger and narrowed my eyes.

A red haired, freckled face popped out of my room. My mouth fell open as the head looked around, and then fixed his gaze on me.

I screamed as I slammed my towel hanger on the unmistakable face of Ron Weasley.