Author's Note: Alas, new writing! Sorry I haven't updated my other stories, but I'm running low on ideas. Please review and check out Baby-M-xo's profile. She rocks!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
What Is This Feeling?
By musiclover94 and Baby-M-xo
"Mom! I don't want to move again!" a six-year-old Gabriella exclaimed angrily to her mother, who was busying herself with taping a bow closed with packing tape. The loud screech from the tape made Gabriella flinch.
"I know, sweetie. My company's making me." Mrs. Montez said, pushing some dark, wavy hair out of her face.
"If you know, why are you making me?" Gabriella asked.
"We're here!" Gina Montez said enthusitacally to her daughter.
Gabriella looked around the apartment. It was rather small with two rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The carpet was a shade of beige and the walls were slightly peeling. Gabriella looked to investigate the rooms. She found that the sleeping rooms were not nearly as bleak as the rest of the apartment. One of the rooms has a fresh-looking coat of pale green paint. She set her small box of belongings on the wooden floor and started to unpack.
"Mom, are there any kids my age in this apartment complex?" Gabriella asked, leafing through a book.
"Yes, I think there are some right across the hallway," she said, "want to meet them?"
Gabriella thought for a moment and said, "No."
"Why not?"
"Because we might move again, and if I make friends with them, I wouldn't see them again!" Gabriella replied.
"I made my company promise not to transfer me until you're out of high school," she said.
"That's a long way away." Gabriella said.
"Oh, come on, go and meet them!" Gina smiled.
Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Fine."
RingRing! The doorbell rang inside Apartment 4A as Gabriella and Mrs. Montez waited outside the door in the dim glow of the fluorescent lights above them, slightly buzzing.
The door creaked open and a young woman, probably in her late thirty's, answered to door.
"Hi, I'm Gina Montez and this is my daughter Gabriella. We just moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves." She extended a hand.
"Oh, hello," she said tiredly, shaking her hand.
A boy of about six walked out of one of the rooms and made his way to the door. He was holding a toy basketball under one arm.
"And this is my son, Troy." Mrs. Bolton said.
Gabriella felt something remarkably like hatred coursing through her veins. She couldn't exactly put her finger on why.
Author's Note: Ok, it ended weirdly, but please review!