The Boy Next Door—Chapter One

I knew today was going to be a bad day. I just knew it. I could feel the essence of a bad day singling me out from the very moment I tumbled out of my bed, only to step on a long and, might I add, sharp, quill.

"What the bloody hell—" Crying out in agony and clutching my throbbing foot, I managed to get my other foot ensnared in the too-long end of my pajama bottoms. I tripped wildly, barely missing cracking my head on my door. 'Okay,' I had thought, 'I'll just sit here and collect myself. Nothing bad can happen when I'm not even moving.'

Wham!

Oh how very wrong I had been. The inward-opening door connected with my forehead, and with a yelp I jumped up and backwards, only just missing the same quill that had been the start of all this trouble.

Petunia, my sister, had rolled her eyes, and quickly let go of the metal doorknob, as if it had burned her. There were many words to describe Petunia—most of them synonymous with 'bad' and 'evil.' She glanced distastefully around my room, gave a sniff, and said, "Mum wanted me to tell you breakfast is ready." She then turned on her heel and vanished quickly around the corner of the doorframe.

I had decided not to risk another tripping-over-pant-leg fiasco. I pulled on a pair of denim shorts (Hopefully I wouldn't find a way to trip over shorts!) and a striped black and white collared shirt. Not many colors match my colorful hair (It's bright red, like extremely vibrant bits of copper wire), but black and white seemed to match okay. I then cautiously went on my way down to breakfast. Unfortunately for me, my bedroom was on the second floor of my house.

"A flight of stairs, an extremely unlucky day. This should be fun," I had murmured to myself. I gripped the thin banister of the staircase firmly, and proceeded slowly and carefully down it. First step—No fall. Second step—I'm still upright. Third step—This is going fine. I reached the bottom of the stairs without falling, tripping, or rolling down them. "Not bad," I had said, glancing back over my shoulder. I took a step forward, still looking back, and promptly tripped over a corner of the carpet, which was flipped up.

I had squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds, then, remembering what happened last time I stayed too long on the floor, I got up and dusted myself off.

"Fabulous. Countless injuries and I haven't even had breakfast."

Said meal was a sloppy affair, what with spilling oatmeal, dropping utensils, and knocking over my milk. By the time my stomach was full I had to go change—I didn't fancy going around the house with oatmeal dripped down my front.

And now here I was, late afternoon, relishing the fact that my day was almost over. The sun perched on the horizon, casting mysterious shadows while still providing enough light. I was resting on a comfortable couch in my living room, half-reading a book. My eyes were skimming the words, but my brain didn't seem to want to absorb the meaning. My mind was caressed by the gentle sigh of the wind through the open window, and the background noise of cars slowly riding by. My eyelids drifted downwards as these gentle sounds lulled me into a light doze.

Bam.

A car door slammed nearby, and my eyes snapped open as I sat up straighter. My book tumbled to the ground, and I lost the page that I was on. I was more interested in the car outside, however. People were gingerly untwisting themselves from their seatbelts and exiting the vehicle. I stood up to get a better look. Behind the car there was a big van—a moving van.

My mum entered the living room and started to straighten the pillows I had left disorganized on the couch and floor. She glanced at what I was scrutinizing and said airily, "Oh, those must be the new neighbors. I didn't know they were moving in so soon."

I glanced at her quizzically. "New neighbors, Mum?"

"Yes, I only found out recently that they were moving in. They're something like the Porters, or—"

I turned my head and squinted at one of the newcomers. I caught a glimpse of ruffled, black hair and there was a flash from the slowly dying sun off a pair of glasses. My eyes widened. No. Surely not. But… The person turned, and I caught a better sight of them. A grin graced the young man's features—a grin that looked very familiar. It couldn't be. And yet… It sure looked like…

"Potter?" I gasped.

"Oh yes, Potter, that's it, Lily! The Potters are our new neighbors."

I felt rather dizzy and sick at the same time. The Potters are our new neighbors. The Potters are our new neighbors. The unimaginable thought my mother had uttered echoed around in my head.

"But how did you know that, Lily? You don't know them—?"

I could hear my mother speaking, but I had no idea of what the words were. The Potters are our new neighbors. The Potters are our new neighbors. The Potters are our new neighbors.

Hah! I had thought my bad day was over? It was just beginning.

The mid-morning of the next day…

"Lily…Lily."

My eyes fluttered open. "Hmm?" I said sleepily.

My mum looked down on me, a slight crease between her two jade eyes. "Are you sure you don't feel well enough to come with us to welcome the neighbors?"

"What? I—Oh!" I hastily worked up a cough. "I'm feeling pretty sickly, sorry Mum."

"Okay sweetie…" She said regretfully. "When you feel better, then?"

"Most assuredly." I could figure out a way out of that when the time came.

As my mum left, I could hear her muttering to my dad, "…she's been like this since yesterday afternoon and she never gets sick. It came on so suddenly…"

"She'll be fine, Madeline." I grinned as I heard my dad's deep, slightly exasperated, calming voice. "Relax. Let's go say 'hi' to the neighbors."

I waited until I heard the slam of the front door before jumping out of bed and stretching. Meeting the Potters should preoccupy my family for a while, and until they got back, I had the house to myself.

I sauntered over toward the kitchen—pretending to be sick sure makes you work up an appetite! I grabbed a spoon from one of the drawers, then opened the fridge and pulled out some peanut butter. Once I had a nice, overflowing pile of peanut butter on the spoon, I walked toward the family room to watch some television.

On my way past the front door of my house, however, I heard rustlings on the porch. My brows furrowed, I stuck the peanut butter spoon into my mouth, and opened the door. Crouched in front of my doorstep, a basket of brownies clutched in both hands, was James Potter. Um, shit?

"Oh, hello," He said getting to his feet, tugging down his shirt, and running a hand through his mussed hair. "Your mum mentioned you weren't feeling well, and my mum thought what better to make you feel better than some brownies? So I was just, um, putting these brownies here for you." As he glanced up for the first time after finishing his speech, my heart sank. I had been trying to figure out a way to make a polite escape without him seeing my face, but now it seemed to late. He'd surely recognize me now! My fears were confirmed when his eyes bulged and his mouth dropped. "Evans?" He squeaked.

I pulled the huge spoon of peanut butter out of my mouth and ran my tongue across my teeth, trying to rid them of the sticky substance. "Hey there, Potter."

The end!

Yeah, so before I was taking forever to update and everything so I took a break from writing this story. Now I figure I'll repost it and be determined to update regularly. What's a good amount of time between chapters—like, a week? I'll try…

Well, review please! Tell me what you think… And please, feel free to point out the tiniest mistake to me; I'll appreciate it so much!