AUTHOR'S NOTE
Sorry for the delay of this chapter! I've been busy the past few days, especially with my birthday yesterday. Christmas may be a thing of the past by now, but I hope you still have some holiday spirit left to enjoy this story. :-)
Also, this story has become more than a three-shot. It's likely to be a five-shot at this rate.
"Is she awake?" Or at least, that's what I think Dad said. When he and Mom opened my door, I woke up a bit, but I was still pretty darn groggy.
They were standing over my bed, and I was pretending to still be asleep. I'm a real good pretend-sleeper, oh yeah. I can snore like a grown man! "She's snoring, Bob," Mom said in a flat tone.
"She could be faking." Dad patted my shoulder. "Isabelle? Wake up." See how strict my parents are? They don't even let me have my fake z's.
I felt a strand of my hair be lifted, then wrapped around a finger. "She looks like such an angel when she sleeps. If she would just let me do her hair and makeup tomorrow..." What's tomorrow? I thought, almost pausing in my snoring to ask.
Dad clapped his hands in front of my face. "Isabelle. ISABELLE?"
"Hold on." I heard Mom walk out, and ideas filled my mind of what she could be planning. Trumpet? Drums? Piano? Soon I heard her come back.
Liquid ice blasted onto my face, and I shot straight up. "AGH! What the helk was that?" I was originally going to say 'hell', but caught myself. Helk (n.)= a half-curse word, a mix of 'hell' and 'heck'. At least I got a new word out of that experience, eh? It rhymes with 'elk', my third favorite animal next to the platypus and the box jellyfish!
"Good! She's awake now," Dad said.
I looked at him and Mom. They had changed while I was gone- Dad now wore a blue v-neck sweater and black pants, and Mom wore a red dress with black leggings. Cold water was dripping down my neck, and I shivered. "Ya think?"
"Last time we came in, you were not here," Mom said in a prickly voice. "Care to explain?"
"I cannot be contained," I said in the prissiest tone possible, to get back at her. "I shan't."
Dad snorted, then coughed in his fist. Mom slapped her hands on her hips. "Oh yes you will. You can't just escape responsibility, Isabelle. And you will be making up for your irresponsibility tomorrow, in the basement."
I hadn't been there in ages. Mom kept the key in a super secret place. All I knew was that it was cold, barren, and boring. "For how long?"
"All day. Until the evening, when you will be attending a party with the whole family."
Numbness swept over me. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me, it's what you deserve for all your recklessness today."
Being in the basement all day meant I couldn't visit Owen. I wouldn't get to have a wild time with him and Noah and their families, eat Christmas dinner with them, or see Owen and Noah at ALL. I considered going ballistic, but then something overwhelmed me: The deep painful hole in my gut. Tears sprung to my eyes. "How can you do this to me? On Christmas! What kind of monster are you?"
Mom slammed both fists on my bed, eyes flashing like green lightning. "How dare you call me a monster! You know what? Go to the basement, now! Don't take anything with you!"
Vision blurring in front of me, I saw a shift in Mom's face as I pulled out my phone from my bra and placed it beside me. Then I stood up and walked out.
Sebastian's POV (For a view outside Izzy's crazy world.)
My eyes were hooked to the screen as Hans was about to kiss Anna. Calculations were going on in my head: Anna would be cured, and together they would straighten out the whole mess between Elsa and everyone else. I still hadn't figured out how they would stop the eternal winter though.
Hans stopped an inch away from Anna and opened his eyes. "Oh, Anna," he said in a strange low voice. "If only there was someone out there who loved you."
MIND BLOW. As I watched his next words play out, establishing in me a deep-seated hatred for him, I heard feet on the stairs. Izzy came down first, followed by Mom and Dad. The movie faded from my mind as I saw Izzy wiping her eyes, which were shiny and red. Izzy never cried. She got disappointed or upset, but never enough to cry.
I looked at Mom and Dad. Mom was stoic as usual, but I received hints from her lowered eyes and subtly frowning lips. Dad's gaze was more alert, his eyebrows curled in toward each other. I stared at Izzy again, but only Dad gave me a glance as they crossed the living room. I thought they were going to the kitchen, but then they stopped at the door to the basement. Mom pulled out a key and unlocked it, and Izzy stepped inside. Then she locked her in.
An alarm went off in my head. I sprang to my feet and ran over to the scene. "What are you doing? It's cold in there!"
Dad turned his head to Mom. "Let's not do this today, honey. We can send her in with warm clothes tomorrow."
Her expression formed all kinds of edges. "She called me a monster," she snapped. Some of the tension transitioned off her face. "But you're right, she needs her coat and actual leggings with that short skirt of hers. And socks. I'll go get them." She went back upstairs, leaving just Dad and me.
Dad's gaze switched over to me. "Sebastian, I have to ask- what were you doing in your sister's room?"
"Hm? Oh, I was just checking on her."
His eyes were like dark marbles with an intellectual glint- searching, observant. Mom says I have eyes like him, but I don't think mine have the same effect as his. "You don't usually do that."
"Nope." It was the most I could manage without squeaking. I could feel it in my throat.
His stare was drawing the truth out of me, but I resisted. I focused on looking him in the eyes, a clear sign of sincerity, while blocking out their power. "You know, if everyone in this family was honest with each other, we would all get along swimmingly. It's not just Isabelle that's the problem."
He followed Mom's trail upstairs, and I could breathe easy again. Now was my chance. I knocked on the basement door. "Izzy, you okay? What happened?"
No reply. She probably went down the stairs. I walked back to the living room to resume watching Frozen. I would check on her again right after Mom gave Izzy her clothes, so she'd be near the entrance.
(Back to Izzy now.)
Stupid tears, I thought. I was rubbing my eyes to keep them at bay as I leaped the last few steps, the rocky floor jarring my feet. It was probably frozen solid, I was freezing in there! Someone had already turned on all the lights (spaced-out light bulbs with strings), but there needed to be twice as many to clear the dimness.
I have to get out. Basements should really have windows. I do have some basic lock-picking skills, but I've never bothered to master the art. I may be a criminal according to the RCMP, but I'm usually not a thief. There was some furniture strewn about- our old white sofa with tomato soup stains across the cushions (I did that), a beat-up light blue dresser, a night stand, a coffee table, mattresses- but really, it was like a desert at nighttime. Cold, dark, dry, deserted... and huge.
I flipped over to the night stand first. What? I was trying to warm myself up, and there was more than enough room for gymnastics. After steadying myself, I opened its drawer. Besides all the dust, there was a broken watch, a flashlight, rubber bands, and a bobby pin. I took the rubber bands and the bobby pin, blew off the dust, and rubbed them on my shirt. The bobby pin I could use for lock-picking, and do I have to explain the former? Rubber bands are awesome!
I eyed the dresser in the corner next. I already had my lock-picking item, but I have this policy of always opening drawers, boxes, and cabinets. Who knows, there could be treasure! I'd tell you of the time I found a wad of bills in my teacher's desk at school, but that's another story. Three cartwheels later, I pulled open the top drawer. Nothing. I opened three more drawers, all barren. When I reached the bottom one, however, I discovered a glasses case and a picture of... Dad?
I sat my butt on the floor and examined the picture. He was standing against a white wall with a group of guys, arms wrapped around each others' shoulders. They all wore thick glasses, tucked-in shirts, and awkward grins. Dad was by far the skinniest, and had a lot less lines on his face. All along, I had always pictured him as a polished professor, one who always looked right and hung with the right people, but he actually used to be a lanky nerd with nerdy friends. It was an incredible sight.
Next, I reached for the glasses case. I blew off a thin layer of dust and opened it. The glasses matched Dad's in the picture exactly, only framed on the top edge and with long round lens. I put them on, and I immediately was as blind as a bat. I knew he wore contacts, but I didn't know his eyesight was this bad. I couldn't even walk around in his glasses!
I put them back, but kept the picture. I would ask Dad about it later.
I walked on my hands halfway to the stairs, then decided it was too slow and went upright. I leaped the steps by threes and nearly fell into the door, but righted myself. After breaking off the tips of the bobby pin, I stuck it into the keyhole and twisted, but the lock didn't budge. I pushed, strained, and cursed myself for not practicing more. Nothing worked. What felt like ten minutes later, I slumped against the door, out of breath and shivering.
The lock clicked, and my bobby pin fell out as the door opened behind me. I fell backward with a yelp, and looked up to see Mom standing over me. I scrambled to my feet, heat gathering in my cheeks. "What?"
"I brought extra clothes for you to wear." She handed me my red peacoat (still with crumbs of snow on it), leggings, and socks, then rubbed her hands over her arms. "Goodness, it is cold in there." We stood and stared at each other, and I swear the frost melted out of her eyes for a few seconds. But it came back just as quickly, and she shut the door in my face.
Pressure built up inside of me like soda shaken in a bottle. Dropping my clothes, I bent down and picked up the bobby pin pieces, thinking, I hate Mom I hate Mom I hate Mom I hate this prison. I couldn't take it. It was the frustration that brought my fist into the door, not myself.
Fireworks exploded in my hand. I rubbed the tender skin and sat on the floor, closing my eyes. I actually felt better now that I had something else to focus on. At least my physical pain only lasted for a minute, right?
Someone knocked on the door. I opened my eyes. "Iz? Are you okay?"
It was Seb. "Yup, I have warm clothes now," I said.
"I saw you crying earlier. Did Mom yell at you?"
"Yup." But that's not why I cried.
"You should have let me take some of the blame for the snowman. Then maybe Mom and Dad wouldn't have put you in the basement..."
I gave a short laugh. "We both know they would have done it anyway. That's the first time I ever broke out of a timeout. Besides, Mom hates me, and I hate her."
A pause. "Mom? No, she can't hate you. 'Hate' is too strong a word for what's between you two."
"Then why did she stick me in the basement for all of today and tomorrow, huh? Without any pillows, blankets, pajamas, or dental care. Oh yeah, no food either."
"She'll probably bring all of those later."
"I doubt it."
"Could you just think positively?" His voice took on a new tone- sharper, more impatient. So now I'm angering Seb too, I thought. Great. "I don't like seeing you and Mom fight like this near Christmas. I feel like I have to pick sides. Sure, your punishment's unfair, but you provoked it out of Mom by sneaking out. How am I supposed to decide?"
I sighed. Even if he didn't think my reason for leaving my timeout was reasonable, I would've rather had him know the truth and decide. "Well, I'll give you my view on the situation first. You know how Mom won't let me see Owen, right?" I imagined him nodding behind the door. "It was only a matter of time before I snuck out to see him. I mean, he's my boyfriend, I was missing him tons. I even returned after only one hour at his house for Mom and Dad! If they just let me hang out with Owen, none of this would be happening right now." I paused, a new and dreadful thought arising. "Seb, please don't tell them I went to see Owen. They might never let me text or call him again." I would flat-out ignore any ban from seeing him, just saying.
I held my breath at the silence on the other side. Thankfully, it was brief. "I won't, but they might find out anyway. Didn't you get your phone taken away?"
Dang it. But at the same time, an idea struck. "Maybe they won't look. But can you do me a favor? Could you text Owen on my phone that I can't come to his house tomorrow?"
"Wait, you were going to see him again? Gosh, Izzy, you need to learn some restraint!"
"Uh, no. I have been restraining from visiting Owen for six months, not counting Total Drama Action. If you don't text him, he'll think I stood him up, when really, I'm stuck in a basement without windows!"
"I am certain that no basement in the world has windows. And I thought you cared about my perfect record."
Both heat and cold were crawling under my skin, making me restless and frustrated. "This is Owen we're talking about though! I can't just hurt him like this!"
"Can't you just explain to him after you get your phone back?" That's when I realized, I was fighting impossible odds. Not only did Seb not believe in my relationship with Owen, but he was also attached to Mom and Dad. I didn't stand a chance.
I stood up. "Fine. I will." I took only my coat and descended the steps once more, listening to the silence behind me.
Owen's POV (You were not expecting this, were you?)
CHRISTMAS DAY
In my book of favorite holidays, the only holiday that trumps Christmas is Thanksgiving, and that's only because there's a turkey. Christmas is awesome on every level! There's food, family, friends, cheer, presents, food, decorations, and a giant feast at the end of it! What's not to love? And something new and totally awesome was coming this year: Both my girlfriend Izzy and my best friend Noah were coming!
The day started off most excellently. I found a plate of assorted Christmas cookies on the table, score! Mom used to say they were for Santa when my brothers and I were younger, but Riley and I always ate them anyway. "Jingle Bell Rock" played on a radio in the kitchen, where Mom was making a huge meatloaf (I could smell it).
"Make sure you leave some cookies for your brothers and Dad, Owen!" Mom called out.
"I'm on it!" I grabbed four plates and placed seven cookies on each. There were eight cookies left. Hey, I got to the cookies first! I only had three before the music called me to dance, pulling me from my seat. I stepped to the beat into the kitchen, waving my arms as Mom placed the meatloaf in the oven. After she closed it, I took her by the hands and began swinging with her.
"Whoa, Owen! What are you doing?" she said, half-laughing. We took two steps sideways while pointing our arms in the same direction, then the other way. Soon we were twirling around the kitchen, the smell of meatloaf drifting around us. Who says fat people can't dance? Theory disproven, boo yeah.
By the third song ("Rocking Around the Christmas Tree"), Dad, Riley, and Uncle Wendell had come down. Dad entered the kitchen as I twirled Mom around. "Mind if I cut in, Owen?"
"Of course not!" I said, handing over Mom's hand. I joined Riley and Uncle Wendell in the dining room to finish my cookies- I was extra hungry after all that dancing.
Next to me, Uncle Wendell took a small bite of his cookie. "Mm, your mom sure knows her way around a cookie, huh boys? Extra sugar and butter always make a cookie great, for your future reference."
"But none of us could ever make them as good as Mom," I said.
Riley popped a cookie across from me. "Mhm. You know, I wonder why Luke isn't here."
"Probably not interested in the food," I said. "He is the runt of the litter after all." We all laughed. It was a running joke in the family. Luke only came down after Mom called him for lunch a few hours later, and we ate the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy. I finished first and ran upstairs to text Noah and Izzy- they were coming after they ate lunch. I would be able to spend some quality time with them before Noah's family came too.
I climbed onto my bed and laid down, holding my phone over me. I texted Izzy and Noah the same thing at once: Merry Christmas! Are you on your way here yet?
Noah texted back a minute later. No, I'm eating lunch right now. Did you finish early or something? You're forcing me to text under the table, I'm blaming you if my parents catch me. He sent another text quickly after. Oh yeah, Merry Christmas and all that jazz. Blah.
Nothing from Izzy yet. I don't mind being blamed. You're not happy about Christmas?
That, and "Merry Christmas" is a huge cliche (accent on the 'e'). My parents always ignore what I ask for and buy me sweater vests.
Oh, haha. Sorry about that dude!
Not like you're the one buying them for me. I'll be wearing an extra-special Christmas one (*coughagainstmywillcough*) when I come over.
He texted again before I could respond. Gotta go. Parents caught me.
Darn. See you soon!
I switched over to texting Izzy. Izzy?
I sent two more texts in the span of an hour. You there?
Hello?
At the end of that hour, the doorbell rung. I sprang off my bed and ran down the steps. "I'll get it!" I thought that Noah might've known where Izzy was. There was a feeling in my gut that disturbed me, but I couldn't tell whether it was hunger or intuition.
I opened the door- and coughed loudly. True to his word, Noah wore a sparkly green sweater vest with a huge Santa face. The gold-knit phrase "Noah is a good boy- Santa" at the bottom sealed the deal. Noah grimaced. "Just let it out before you kill yourself."
"BAHAHAHAHA!" I picked him up and squeezed him to show I wasn't laughing at him, but at his sweater.
Mom and Dad came over. "What's so funny Owen?" Dad asked. "Merry Christmas, Noah."
"And to you, Mr. Nickelson." His voice was muffled in my hug, and I loosened it. "Don't!" he whispered. I didn't understand why, but I tightened up again.
"Are you hungry Noah? Did you have lunch?" Mom asked.
"Yup, he did! 'Scuse me, coming through." I carried him upstairs to my room, then shut the door. "Want me to let go of you now?"
"Yes." I let go. Noah collapsed to the floor and had a small coughing fit. "You know, you could have done it a little looser."
"Sorry. Why did you want me to hug you for so long?"
He got up and dusted himself off. "So that my sweater didn't launch a cheerful laugh fest with your parents."
"Oh, heheh. Smart. So, what do you wanna do?"
"First of all, I want to take this off and throw it in the garbage." Noah pulled off his sweater vest and tossed it on my bed, leaving an open blue button-down over a white long-sleeved top. "But I'll have to put it back on when my family comes. Bah humbug."
"Oh yeah, that reminds me! I forgot to tell you that Izzy's coming too," I said.
"Izzy? Well, that'll sure make things interesting."
"At least, I think she's coming. She hasn't responded to any of my texts."
"Really?" I took out my phone and showed him my texts to Izzy. The wrinkles in his forehead ran deeper. "It looks like her brother texted you back. Or maybe it's her pretending to be her brother."
"What?" I flipped my phone and read the newest text- and it wasn't from me this time. This is Izzy's brother. She can't come tomorrow because our parents put her on a timeout, and we're going to a party at 6.
I typed back, Why can't she reach her phone? And where is this party?
I got a reply quickly. Our parents took it. Can we end this soon please? I don't want to get caught. The party's on 30 Sycamore Ave.
Thanks! Tell Izzy I said Merry Christmas, and sorry this is happening to her.
I will.
I looked at Noah, who was watching over my shoulder. "Why'd you ask where the party was?" he said.
I took a deep breath. My mind was already set. "Because, we're going to go to it."
Noah's expression wiped blank for a second, then his eyebrows curved upward. "Wait, seriously? What if only certain people are invited?"
"Sorry, let me rephrase what I just said. We're going to crash the party."
Noah stared at me for several seconds. He was probably thinking my plan was- what was that word again? Oh yeah, ludicrous. "You and Izzy really are a perfect pair, aren't you?"
"Totally," I said.
Sebastian's POV (We're not going back to Izzy just yet.)
It took me about a day to text Owen for Izzy. Reasons why I did, in the form of events in chronological order:
1. I realized that Izzy really cares about Owen, and I care about her. I put two and two together, and figured out that Izzy must have cried because she wouldn't get to see Owen. She wanted to climb out her window twice for him through whatever punishment. And how far did she have to walk to his house? It reminded me of how she built a snowman in the house because she was worried about me. Maybe her deeds didn't seem as "out there" to her, but they definitely showed she cared. And besides, I felt a pang in my heart when she went back downstairs in the basement, like I was doing the wrong thing. Every time I told myself I was right, I felt otherwise.
2. Izzy's first Christmas present to me. On Christmas morning, I opened my presents, and Izzy's stood out like a sore thumb compared to Mom's and Dad's: The Encyclopedia of Immaturity. I flipped through it out of curiosity and somehow got engrossed in it for hours.
3. Mom left Iz's cellphone on the kitchen counter.
No one else was there. Is it fate? I thought, then dismissed it. Fate is too abstract a concept for someone like me. But I figured I owed Izzy another favor for the book she gave me, since I didn't get her anything back (I can't get an allowance until I'm thirteen next year). Sometimes I hate the conclusions my mind jumps to.
I seized her phone and went to her conversations with Owen. He sent her four unanswered texts (that's Reason 4- his texts played on my guilty conscience). I gave him a thorough answer why she couldn't visit him, but he responded right away with two questions. I hesitated to tell him where we were going for the party, then decided telling him would be quickest.
After answering him, he texted, Thanks! Tell Izzy I said Merry Christmas, and sorry this is happening to her.
That would be easy. I just needed to get away now, before my parents saw me. I will.
I turned the cellphone off and dropped it back on the counter, then walked out of the kitchen- and right into Mom.
I staggered back, and Mom stared at me with a concerned parent look. "Sebastian? What were you doing with Isabelle's phone?"
I could feel my resolve to stay secretive weaken. It wasn't like me to hide things from Mom and Dad. But yet, I wondered. Whenever Mom was around, all I saw was the good side of her- sweet and affectionate. However, I was seeing and hearing more of her nasty side recently, with her yelling at Izzy and locking her in the basement. I didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was there, clear as day. I was afraid of her.
So I spilled something else, on an impulse. "I helped Izzy make the snowman in the living room."
Mom's face went blank. "You what?"
"Can I get a timeout?"
"How... how much did you help her?"
"I gathered all the snow and made the middle part of the snowman with her." Mom's eyebrows entered her forehead. "She made it for me, Mom."
"I'm disappointed in you, Sebastian. You should know better."
"I know."
"... I'll have to discuss this with your father." She went upstairs. I stood in the kitchen until she came back with Dad. "We've decided since you've never done anything wrong like this before, you will be on timeout for just an hour. Alright? Hopefully you don't do something like this again."
"Alright," I said. We all walked to the stairs, with me between Mom and Dad. I have to admit, I sort of felt like a criminal. Except I'm pretty sure policemen don't wink at criminals... and Dad winked at me.
How are Sebastian's and Owen's POVs? This is probably the last you will see of Seb's view. The next chapter will star Izzy, her family, and the whole first-generation cast (excluding Alejandro and Sierra, due to them not being contestants in TDA).
