I wrote this last year for my YA course at at Oxford. It seemed appropriate for this time of year. 🙂
I was in the bath when the doorbell rang.
Let me tell you why that sucked. First, I’d just filled the tub with lots of bubble bath – the rose scented kind, and it was full and lovely and warm. Second, I was daydreaming about a certain somebody with blue eyes and dark hair and . . . and then third, it was ten at night and who the hell rings the doorbell at that time?
If I ignored it, they’d go away. I sank back into the bubbles.
It rang again.
With a sigh, I grabbed my bathrobe and went to see who it was. Down the carpeted steps, across the living room floor. My heart sort of fluttered in my chest, and I grabbed the fireplace poker before going to door. I peered through the peephole and didn’t see anything.
It rang again.
My heart wasn’t fluttering anymore; it’d already flown away, and my body wanted to follow it. But I hefted the poker and threw open the door.
“Girl Scout cookies!”
I stared at the eight-year-old standing there. Blond pigtails. Brown eyes. Ridiculously cute smile. Her little green uniform displaying like fifty badges.
“If I sell a dozen more boxes, I’ll be the biggest seller three years in a row!” she said. “So. How many?”
“None, you little creep! Go home!”
Before I could slam the door, she’d wedged a foot in it and I felt something at my stomach. I looked down and saw something silver there. In her hand. I looked at her face. The cute smile was gone
“Like I said,” she said, “I’ve only got a dozen boxes to sell. So.” The knife pressed a little harder against my stomach. “How. Many?”