Emma

Emma

By Seviah Cepeda

I dedicate this book to the stray cat, Hermes, that will always be welcome in my home.

Maple Leaf Book Writing Project

Brattleboro, VT

Copyright 2013

Emma Lisre walked down the street, sighing. She had just ruined a perfectly good job interview. Another one. "Well," she said to herself. "At least my apartment is all right." And it was all right. It was a quaint apartment in a pretty big house. It had walls in different shades of red, which was Emma's favorite color. She had even spent a fortune on her bright red car, which she loved dearly. As she started its ignition, she thought about the new downstairs neighbors, and wondered if she should bake them brownies or something. "No," she thought. "I hate cooking anyway. I'll save it 'till tomorrow." And it was a good thing she didn't, or this story might never have happened.

* * * *

It was 4:00 in the morning, and Emma was sleeping. Suddenly, she was jolted awake by a

loud crash. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she stomped down the stairs to the neighbors apartment. She had to knock forever, it seemed, before a strange man opened the door and let her in.

"What are you doing?!?" she said indignantly, noticing that her new neighbor had just run back to pick up an oak wood bureau from it's position in the middle of the living room floor. "Are you moving out? Because I'll be glad to help you if you would please do your moving in the daytime, instead of when everyone else is sleeping. "

At this point, a new lady stepped into the room. She was almost exactly Emma's opposite. Red, straight hair for Emma's light blond, wavy hair, a pale, small face for Emma's average sized tanned one. She was wearing a flower print nightdress, as opposed to Emma's jeggings and over large T-shirt.

"Hello, she said coolly. "I am Catharine, and this is Neil. And sadly enough for you, we are not leaving." Emma raised her eyebrows. What was up with these unfriendly new neighbors? "Now turn around and leave my property, or I'm calling the police." Emma did, but she realized that if Catharine and Neil did something else, she wasn’t just going to let it slide.

When Emma got out of bed to make herself breakfast and her slippers wouldn't move off the floor, she knew that they had been glued there. Who had done it wasn't a problem. Her window was open, letting in the stream of cold air that had woken her in the first place. Emma got to work.

Emma stepped onto the Ricket's (Catharine and Neil's) doorstep. In her hands was a present. It was wrapped in quaint pink paper, and had a big white bow on the top. In the present was - well, I'm going to let you deduce that for yourself. But I'll give you two clues. It was stinky, and it exploded. In other words, it was a timed stink bomb. "Oh, hello," said Catharine when she opened the door. "How was your sleep?"

"Fine," Emma growled, trying to pretend she had no idea what Catharine was talking about.

Neil popped in then. "More importantly, how are your slippers? And your floor?"

"Shush!" Catharine hissed at him. "What my Neil means is how are you settling in? How's your apartment?"

"That's not what I meant!" Neil protested. "What I meant was-"

"Shush!" Catharine hissed again.

"Well," Emma said, with a pretended puzzled look on her face. Time was running out. "I just wanted to give you this, as a new neighbor present."

Emma dropped it into Catharine's waiting hands and ran, grinning. She just hoped that Catharine would get the point.

The next day, Emma looked out the window to see it snowing. Emma loved snow, and was soon tromping over to her mailbox in her snow boots, humming Jingle Bells as she walked. Suddenly, the peace was broken. A cascade of snow poured over the edge of the roof. Emma looked up, jumping to one side just in time. And then something happened that clearly said "Hello, this is Catharine, and I'm on the roof, pushing this snow onto your head." The snow fell after her. Emma was frozen. Her head was cold, her feet were cold, and everything in between was cold. Some snow had fallen down her shirt, completing the unappealing picture. She turned around and stomped back home, as mocking laughter echoed after her.

As Emma ran through her apartment, ripping her soaking wet clothes off, she looked, yet again, around the apartment. The bathroom, where she frantically got out of her wet clothes and dried off, was a bright, piercing red and had only one window. Next stop was Emma's bedroom, where she quickly picked a new set of pajama jeans and a sweatshirt. To her, it was the best room in the house. It had crimson walls and a white fluffy rug. It was the sunniest room Emma had ever been in, which was only because it had a whopping four windows. The living room, which Emma rushed back through on her way to the kitchen, had burgundy walls and two huge windows, covered by cream curtains. The kitchen, where the white door with red accents was, was where Emma made herself a steaming mug of hot chocolate. It had two windows, and the walls were a pale tomato color. Then came the dining room, which was as red as a rose, and also had two windows. There, at the beautiful dark chestnut table, Emma sat and tried to warm her hands and her chattering teeth.

Once she had stopped freezing to death, Emma started to look for a job online. Suddenly, the one she had wanted practically all her life jumped out at her. "Third grade teacher- must love children and fun, and have a bachelor's degree and a teaching certificate." Emma had all of these things, and the school was a walking distance away- not that it needed to be, of course. She always had her car. But still, she would definitely try out.

As Emma walked into Pineapple Elementary School, she was surprised to see so many children still playing in their snow boots and jackets at the playground on a Saturday. She was even more surprised when a middle aged, matronly woman came, held out her hand, and introduced herself as the principal. She had been expecting them to let her find her way to the principal's office herself, but here she was, being led through the pastel colored hallways like a idiot.

Once she had been shown the classroom, which was perfectly painted, perfectly decorated, and generally seemed to have no need for a normal person such as herself, Emma sat herself down behind the principal’s desk. “So,” the principal smiled. “You want the job?”

The interview had gone pretty well, Emma thought as she plopped down in her favorite chair. Until the end. That was when she had learned that the choices had already been lowered down to two, herself and one other, and that all she had to do to get the job was bring in a signed letter saying a multitude of good things about her. Preferably from a neighbor.

As Emma woke up the next day, she noticed that the neighbors hadn’t done anything. Usually she would wake up and immediately know what was wrong. A stink bomb, a rope tying her to the bed, (that had taken her a while to get out of). Once they had even stolen all of her underwear. She had tried everything. She had closed the doors, locked the windows, and almost made it through an entire night without sleeping. But they still found ways to get in. And so both floors became rather familiar with the other’s apartment. Maybe, though, Catharine and Neil had decided that they should stop. Emma had wished this for quite a while, but they had started it, so she figured they should end it. They never had, but there was a chance...Maybe she should do an extra round around the house, just to make sure. Emma looked in the bathroom, the living room, the living room, and the kitchen. Nothing. Relieved, Emma went back to her room to spend a day in bed.

When Emma woke up, refreshed by the knowledge that she was not tied to her bed, smelling something unpleasant, or unable to dress properly, she immediately decided to go for a walk in the nearby park. It was a nice park, but it was going to be razed soon, so she figured she would make the best of it while it was still standing. As she walked, she wondered how she was going to get that note.

"I might as well just give the paper to them and ask nicely to write something good, but I doubt they're going to do it, even if I do ask nicely," she mused. And if she did get them to, the other choice had probably already turned it in. Would Principal Silt still wait for her? SHe promptly turned around and went back home to get a piece of paper.

As Emma opened the hall door, she caught a waft of earthly scent escaping. "Good," she thought. "Someone put a scent tree in the hallway. I'd been meaning to do that." But when she opened the door to her apartment, she realized that it was not the scent she had been smelling, but the real thing. Someone had poured bucket loads of fresh potting soil all over her carpet.

Emma dropped to her knees and scooped up a handful of dirt. It smelled just like the ground outside the neighbor's front door. She walked stiffly to her room and discovered that the soil was everywhere. In the carpet, on the bed, and even in her clothes drawer. Losing her tough girl attitude, she found a spot on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

When Emma woke, she thought for a second that she had been plunged into another horribly vivid dream in which she was drowning in a sea of dirt, worms and darkness. It was the middle of the night, so she might as well have been right. But that was soon changed, because Emma wasted no time in cleaning the apartment. What she had a problem with was her head. She knew she should ask the neighbors for the letter anyway, but her pride was holding her back. It made her want to egg their car, or sneak up behind them on Main Street and humiliate them in front of everybody. The question was, did she want the job enough? Just as Emma thought this, she decided. She wanted the job, she needed the money, and she certainly wanted to be able to be in someone else's company other than Catharine and Neil's. She would get some paper and ask them right then.

In front of the Ricket's door, Emma took a deep breath and reminded herself that the other option probably already had the job. "Plus, even if they have gotten it, I'd have a written letter from Catharine and Neill saying that I'm a hard worker and a good person. That's something." And she lifted her hand and knocked.

Catharine opened the door and scowled. "Shouldn't you be cleaning your floors?" she asked, making no effort to be nice.

"Actually, I already did that." Emma smiled. Score one for her. "But I didn't come to exchange niceties. I came to ask you a favor."

"And what would that be?" Catharine purred.

"I'm trying to get a job as a third grade teacher. I need a handwritten letter from you telling the principal I'm the girl for the job."

"Of course." Said Catharine sweetly, taking the paper and shutting the door in Emma's face.

After a minute, Catharine opened the door again and handed Emma a sealed envelope with a sticky note on it. It said "Emma- don't read me. Give me to the principal and you will get the job immediately. Love, Catharine."

As soon as Emma got into her apartment, she opened the letter.

"Dear Principal, " It said.

"Emma is a horrible and lazy person. She is not fit to be working with young children.

Instead she should be locked up in a mental institute. This is coming from her downstairs

neighbor, who is, and will always be.

Truly Yours,

Catharine Ricket"

Emma was going to kill her. After, of course, she had egged her car and humiliated her in front of everyone. She had wanted that job so much that she had even swallowed her pride to ask nicely if they could write her something good. And that was a feat that Emma Lisre did not accomplish often. As she looked out the window, she saw Catharine in the yard playing with her cat, Savannah. She had heard that Savannah was wild and unruly, but she seemed fine enough now. "Oh well, " Emma decided. "Must be fits or something." And she stomped down the stairs to Catharine.

As Emma walked onto the lawn, Catharine turned around. "So, you read the letter. That's what's not going to get you the job, not following directions. Nothing that I do will dissuade you. I know that much." Emma was too mad to care what Catharine said. She walked straight up to her and exploded.

"You're the one who should be locked up in the mental institute! I bet you only wrote that to console your poor sad kitty who goes cuckoo every time you touch her! I bet you have an entire family who's cuckoo! I bet your mother is cuckoo!"

Having said her piece, she turned and walked away. Just as Savannah ran into the street.

Now, Emma had wanted to be a veterinarian when she was five. She had only stopped when she found you had to learn to cut open animal's insides. She wasn’t brave enough to see the animal's internal organs splayed out on the table. So it was partly for herself that she turned around to go save the Ricket's cat.

As Emma ran, the traffic screeched to a stop. Horns honked as Emma stood with her arms spread and her eyes closed. She only opened them again when Catharine rushed over to her, smiling through her tears. "Thank you so much!" Catharine blabbered over and over. And when Emma plunked herself down on the front porch to watch Savannah cleaning herself in a stray tire, she rushed to make her a cup of tea. When she had made them both a cup and sat down next to Emma, Emma smiled at her.