Beauty

Everyday is the same, wandering these halls with no real direction in mind. But what does it matter, it's only high school. It smells like the cafeteria no matter which hallway your on. Putting the cafeteria in the direct center of the building was a brilliant idea. Lockers line these suffocating hallways, where the occasional stench of gym shoes gives your nose a small break. There she comes.
Long brown hair almost like it's billowing in the wind, but remember we're in a hallway, not outside. That's just the effect she has on people. You can always hear her before she gets close, her high heeled, suede boots rhythmically announcing her arrival. Stopping at her locker, she slowly puts in her combination. A quick make-up check and a reapplication of shiny lip gloss and she is ready to go again.
Everyone looks. The teachers because not only is she beautiful, she's also smart; the girls look, too. As much as they all want to hate her, they can't. The boy with the glasses walks by, his very controlled comb over hair style, and his almost too short pants. Even the most intelligent book worm can't help but stare, and occasionally trip. It wasn't just her beauty though, she was the epitome of what everyone wanted. If you needed a friend she was there, if you needed a tutor, she was there. She had the rarely found ability to truly care, not just pretend. She fought for the under dogs. The problems you had became her problems too. That's really what made her special.

Continued...Part 2

But seriously, my inability to ring my own Aunt's doorbell, the ridiculous nervousness that I felt- inconsequential. It really started three days after my arrival, when the staircase and I had a stare down. The staircase was one flight of stairs, skinny with a very rickety railing. You see, the thing about this staircase is that it was the second one in the house, and it was the one I couldn't go up. It doesn't make sense does it? In a house with two staircases, they should both lead to relatively the same place. So my Aunt Jane had a secret room, or maybe even a secret world up there, and all I had to do was go up that staircase. It was killing me, not knowing, so I asked. Hesitantly, I said, "Aunt Jane?"
"Yes, hun?" She replied.
"How come your house has two staircases, and how come I can only go up one?"
"Kid, you don't worry about that staircase, there isn't anything up there."
I hate it when adults call me kid.
"But, Aunt Jane, you can tell me any secret you got, I won't speak a word, look," I said holding up my hands, "no crosses count."
"Run along and play now, tonight, we're going to cook a huge meal and I'm going to need your help."
Just like an adult, even if they are really awesome, to send me off to play when they don't want to answer my questions.

Part 1--Titled at a later date. =)

It all started with a staircase. Okay, maybe I'm lying a little, but it did kind of start with a staircase a couple of days after I arrived at my Aunt Jane's house. You see, she was the brilliantly crazy person in our family. I hear every family has one, you know, the one that you sometimes wish you could hide under the couch, when you have new people come over, but also the one you want to be able to pull out when your having the extremely important argument with you colleague about the diminishing amount of adventurous people in your family. But it really doesn't matter what everyone else thought, it doesn't even matter what my family thought of Aunt Jane, all that matters to you is this simple fact: she was my hero and I wanted to be just like her. That is precisely why, on May 31, I was standing on the door step, suitcase beside me, nervously reaching up, slightly hesitant to ring the doorbell. That didn't much matter either, however, because before I had even come close to ringing the doorbell, the door swung suddenly open.