"Hey," Micah mouthed with a cupped hand around his mouth.

"Hey, Allegra" impatient, he hisses, and only managed to catch the attention of Mrs. Fillmore, the school's Liberian. She shoots him a peeved look, props her reading-glasses on her nose and stiffly walks off. This time, it caught Allegra’s attention, and she motions to exist.

They walk side-by-side along the corridor, eyeing the grounds for any 'enemies' that being teachers or supervisors aiming to foil their plans. Allegra elbows his shoulders and grins, "Why didn't you call me?"

Micah blinks rapidly and starts off, "I-" and cuts himself off to make a request, "Let's go over to your place?"

"Sure, no one’s at home around this time" she informs, though under his breath Micah mentions he already knew that.

"Huh"

"Nothing, hum- yeah, let's go" he beams a cheesy smirk.

Micah and Allegra had been friends for most of their high school years, after avoiding his growing attraction towards his best friend for some time. He took a mental note to confess his feelings to Allegra and since one can only practice with the mirror or inanimate objects so many times. He figures its D-Day. They round the corner to her home, an old cottage style house, and after tugging at the metal fence. She heads straight up to the wood porch stairs, and Micah trails behind her.

"Why's your grandma up there?" He questions, looking up to the top floor, at an elderly woman's figure and seemingly walking off out of sight.

"Sorry, what did you say?" she asks with her signature grin, one that seems to throw him off.

"Uhm- nothing, don't worry about it" he answers.

The wood creaked under them, and Allegra head straight down the hallway to the kitchen. Micah taking note of the interior, he calls over to her, "No offence Ally but your house is like my grandparent's home," his voice echoes.

She hadn't heard him and requested instead, "You want anything to drink?" while rinsing off glasses in the sink under a running tap.

"Get me lemonade, darlin'," a soft voice asked from behind a rocking chair.

"Ally, your gran wants lemonade" he yells though quizzically eyes the chair, as it stiffly rocks back and forth.

"What?" Alegra closing the tap, asking Micah to repeat himself. When she gets no response, she dried her hands on the kitchen towel, and walks over to him "Whoa!" she exclaims, bumping into him.

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"What's wrong?" she smiles, and he stumbles back, scratching the back of his head.

"Uh- uhm- nothing, your- gran?" he fumbles on his words, nervous, and poses his answer as question.

"My gran? What about her?" she leans her weight against the door frame. Micah, distracted, eyes her up and down before pulling himself from 'lust' laced thoughts and repeating himself.

"Yeah, your gran asked for lemonade," walking past her, shaking his head and gripped the fridge handle.

"We- we- don't-"

"You don't have lemonade, that's cool- oh wait you do have it’s in a glass bottle" he cuts her off. In concerned furrowed brows, he notes, "Ally why do you sound so-"

"My grandma died when I was three," her voice croaked, grabbing the broomstick in the corner with two hands and shuffles over to the living room.

"Huh, then who's the lady upstairs and in the rocking ch-" sensing she'd disappeared from the kitchen, he calls out, "Allegra."

"What?" she whispers.

"Ha!" she startles back as Micah hovers over her, peering in front him.

"Then who's the old bat inside?"

"I don't-" she starts, and he interjects, pulling the broomstick from her hands, "What are you going to do with a broomstick?" poking her back.

"Seriously, Micah, it's not funny!" she hisses and turns to face him, blushing. Their 'moment' soon halted by "Darlin' where's Gran's lemonade?" the woman's voice singsongs, and it rings against the wall beside them. The creaking back and forth of the rocking chair chimes in perfect harmony.

"You know, Gran doesn't- LIKE TO WAIT!" the sweet voice veers into an animal like screeching. Looking at each other wide-eyed, they press an ear against the wall. Silence.

The foot falling of shuffling resonates throughout the house, the pitter-patter grows to stomps and louder than the chanting of raindrops. The echoes whirlwind, and almost bounce off the wood walls like a rubber ball thrown against it.

'Drip, drip, drip' the calling of the kitchen tap, slightly open, and falls against the metal sink.

'Drip, drip-' it attempts to continue cut off by chaos unfurled in the home.

"MICAH!" Allegra screams at the top of her lungs for him running upstairs.

"ALLEGRA! DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME RUN, NOW!" Micah responded equally terrified fighting off a creature with a broom stick.

"NO!" Allegra yelled when the room fell silent and the sound of cackling commenced.

"Well, aren't you, HAPPY, GRANDMA’S HOME?" the soft elderly voice turned to screeching.

...

'Knock, knock, knock'

A knocking on wood falls flat inside the home and an officer queries with a notepad in hand.

"Excuse me, this is Deputy Chief Fillmore, I've been called down by two students, Allegra and Micah, about a possible home invasion?" he prompts.

"I repeat, failure to respond at this moment, warrants me to invite myself in your home, armed," gripping the pistol latched on his back. He's interrupted by the creaking of the door open.

"Yes, Officer Fillmore?" a voice peers out of a slit of the door.

"Oh, it's you, Why'd you call me down here screaming on the phone with some boy?" he lets go of the black metal and scratches the back of his head.

"For some lemonade, sir" a modest reply, and adds, "We do invite you into our HOME!" a cluster of voices whines in an ear-splitting cry. The door swings, black clawed hands snatch Deputy Chief Fillmore inside, and by nightfall the Liberian Mrs. Fillmore was heard pleading with officers. The whole town gossiped about how the 'old hag' had thrown a fit down at the station.

"You know what happened?" a woman asked in the teacher's lounge.

"Stop meddling in other people's business, and she said something about sugar," a biology teach, slammed his textbook on the desk and silencing his chattering students.

"Sugar?" the boy pondered, occupied by a TV screen.

"Yeah, sugar, you know" a wife answered her husband, while they attended to their baby in a long chair, spit firing his peas and chuckles.

"Diabetes, man. My man old has it, you gots to prick your finger and stuff" a mechanic yells over to a co-worker amidst the bright sparks crackling in his face.

"You think he croaked," a lady scoffs, smoking on a pipe at a local bar and blows in the face of her companion.

"On lemonade, I wouldn't mind" a girl informs her friends as they walk on the neighborhood road, giggling. She nods at the boy with his friends scattered on the sidewalk, sipping from a glass bottle of lemonade.

“Hey” He hollers over to them with a cupped hand against his mouth and sets his bottle down on the curb.

“You ladies, wanna hang with us at my place?” and winks their way.

The bottle topples over, spills and rolls down the street in the opposite direction, away from home.