Chapter 3
Estefania's POV
I walk slowly towards my bedroom, seeing all the photos that are still hanging on the walls. I reach my door and hesitate about opening it, afraid it may unravel my past. I take the doorknob and slowly turned it. With my free hand, I switch the lights on and see that everything is exactly like I left it. Nothing has changed in my room or in the house for that matter. I walk to the bed and lay my bag and purse on it. I always loved my bed… king sized, thanks to Grandma, with brown and light blue comforter, bunch of pillows that I used to buried myself in. I can't help but smile as I walk to my red wall. See, my parents are very anal about order and they are clean freaks… or at least they were. So my walls were white… except for one. In a rebellious act at 13, I painted a wall red and that became my wall. It's full with pics, concert tickets, police fines, posters, phrases and autographs, everything that meant anything to me. I run my fingers through the pictures, stopping at one… it was him and me. This picture was taken by my sister in high school, behind the gym when we would ditch class and just hang out. I remember all the detentions we got for being caught making out in the janitors room or for always scream and run in the hallways… all those memories come rushing through my mind. "Nobody dared to touch this room" I jump to the voice of my sister that's leaning against the door frame. "We always hoped for you to come back" She said walking to the bed and sitting on it. I walk to her and open my bag to start settling everything. "I thought you weren't planning on staying long" She said when she saw me unpacking.
"I don't. I just don't want to wear wrinkle clothes while I'm here" I reply taking out some of my clothes. I walk to the closet and gasp when I open it… all my clothes is still there.
"I borrowed a couple of your clothes. I hope you don't mind" My sister says noticing my surprise. I turn around and give her a sincere smile. I run my hand through the racket. My Chicago Bears shirt is still here from when I used to go to Soldier Field with him. My band shirts, my chucks. I honestly think I have every color made and style. "I'm thinking about going out tonight. I was wondering if you want to come. It should be fun… like old times. Besides, it may help you get used to be here… or you could just get drunk" She says. I stay silent, staring at the 'Wall of Shame' like my mom used to call it. Do I want to be comfortable here? Do I really want to get used to this? To say I'm home? "I get it. You're tired and everything. Better stay home and rest" She says after a while of awkward silence and gets up, walking towards the door.
"What should I wear?" I asked her. She turns to me and smile… a smile that tells me she's genuinely happy that I would go out with her. She closes the door and walks to my closet. I stand still and wonder how this is the start of something new.