I hate how Alora doesn’t trust me. Just because I’m nine, it automatically means I’m too young to know anything. I know a lot. I just act like I don’t. I’m a nine year old girl in fifth grade, so she should be able to trust me. I’m smart, so shouldn’t she? I’m basically twenty years old mentally.

Alora’s strange, everyone knows that. Her snowy blonde, almost white shoulder length hair, her cold blue stare that could send a chill down anyone’s spine. Her tall, lean figure and the lack of emotion on her face. She can show emotion, but most of the time it’s forced. Most of the time.

I sit on the couch, legs crossed, watching some random television show that Alora put on for me. It’s one of those sitcoms from those kids channels that nobody likes. I woke up way too early from a dream, and Alora was up, so this is what’s happening. I wish I could just go play outside, but the air is so humid it sticks to you. No kid wants to go out in that.

“Lina, what do you want for breakfast?” Alora asks as she ruffles my hair. I put on my cute persona and say,

“Whatever sissy’s eating!”

Alora smiles faintly and asks in pancakes are okay. I nod and turn around, gagging silently at that voice I just made. Alora leaves the room, and goes to the kitchen. I ignore the whispers between Phyllis and Alora, obviously about the MoonStone. I sometimes wish there was a name more creative for the MoonStone than MoonStone. Just because it’s some chunk of the moon that fell from the sky, that means the same HAS to be MoonStone. Nice work, whoever named that thing.

I jolt up as I hear banging on the front door. Alora and Phyllis don’t seem to notice, since they’re now in the kitchen, which is really far from the door. I stand up and open the door, only to be welcomed by someone punching me in the face, knocking me to the ground. I whack the side of my head on the fireplace mantle next to the door and slam my head onto the floor itself, knocking me out.