•Jenna•

I wake up around 7:00 and head downstairs. My mom is sitting at the unpacked dining room table, coffee in hand. I nod at her in acknowledgement as I walk into the kitchen to see what is available for food. I find some Cheerios in a cabinet but no milk in the fridge. Deciding to eat the cereal dry, I slide into a chair across from my mom.

"Your father is supposed to pick up the basic necessities in a few hours. We'll stock up on food as soon as we get moved in."

I nod and look down at my cereal. My hand reaches for my locket, only to cause me grief because it's not there. I must've lost it in the woods yesterday. I'll return to look for it later. I miss the smooth feeling of the pearly pink heart. It matches the walls of my new bedroom, which I want repainted. I guess now would be the best time to ask for that.

Clearing my throat, I ask,"Can I get my walls repainted?"

My mom looks up from her coffee and brushes her short hair from her face. "What did you have in mind?"

"A shade of red. Ruby, perhaps?"

She thinks for a moment, shaking her mug to make her coffee swirl. "We could possibly do that."

I smile. "Thanks." I crunch a few more Cheerios between my teeth. "I was looking at nearby places to go on my phone last night"--my mom glances up in interest--"a-and there's a music store not too far from here. it's within walking distance. Could I go?"

My mom sighs, knowing how restless I can get. "Sure. Just be back by 10:00."

I walk over and kiss her on the cheek, murmuring a thanks before heading upstairs to put on decent clothes.

   After finding some nice clothes to wear that were easy to unpack, I head downstairs and out the door, doubling-checking the store's opening time on my phone. I'm surprised that a music store would even open at 8:00 am. It must be popular. Although, who would be there at 8 in the morning? I'll have the store to myself.
I check the map as I walk out the door and I head out, down the route I think is heading south. It's 1/4 of a mile walking distance. I tilt my head up to soak in the early July sun. Maybe settling into my new Columbus home won't be so bad after all.

The bell chimes as I push open the old, wooden door to the music store. Guitars and various string instruments hanging on racks line the right wall, and I see old records and drum kits toward the back. There's a register on the left side of the store with instrument maintenance kits and practice books nearby. There's a staircase with a sign that reads "Lessons Upstairs" with a sign up sheet.
My gaze finally lands on the pianos and I hurry over to a Yamaha model. My mom made me take piano lessons for three years. I loathed my daily practices at first, but then I gradually grew to the feeling of the keys under the pads of my fingers.
I move to playing position and play a song that I know by now from memory: Rosemary's Theme from The Giver movie. I found out how to play it through YouTube and absolutely love it.
I look up as the last note fades away to see a boy staring at me whom I must've overlooked when I first went into the store. He averts his gaze and focuses back on the ukulele in his hands. He's dressed in black skinny jeans with red vans, and a black shirt. Isn't he hot? Wait...what I mean is, with all the black absorbing heat in the July sun, I would be sweating to death. I blink and refocus on the boy. His hair is a dark brown and looks really fluffy. 
I finally focus on what he's playing: I'm Yours by Jason Mraz. He's good, I'll give him that.
I focus back on the piano and sigh. We had to sell the family piano before we moved. I was upset for a while. I'd give anything to get a piano, or even a keyboard.
Placing my fingers on the keys, I start playing Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis, my fingers moving fluidly over the keys. Hearing extra notes blending in with the piano, I glance up to see the boy strumming along on the ukulele, his gaze boring into me. I shift uncomfortably, my skin prickling, then jump as I hit a false key.
I push my hair back from my face and quit playing. Standing up, I walk over to pretend to look at lesson books near the register. There isn't a cashier. It's just the boy and me in the store.
Thumbing through the pages of a random lesson book, I glance up to see the boy still watching me. I pull out my phone and check the time: 8:45.
The boy is still watching me. He looks around my age with the same body structure. My dad showed me a few self-defense moves to use if I ever had to. I think it would be a fair fight.
However, I don't want it to come to that. I put the book hastily back on the shelf, walk past the boy, and out of the store, the bell chiming in farewell. I can still feel the boy's eyes on me as I walk away.