Naomi stared out the window, waiting the mail to arrive. She was sitting in her purple window seat, when someone knocked on the door. "Unless I've miraculously missed the mailman delivering my acceptance letter to Juliard, go away," she muttered. "Honey, you can't spend your summer waiting for something that may not even happen," said a soft voice, her mom's. "And what if I do?" Naomi turned around and looked at her mom with worried eyes. "My whole life is going to depend on whether or not I get into that college!" she practically yelled. Her mother frowned and rubbed her back, "Just don't get upset if you don't get in," her mom said leaving. "Like that would happen," she said. She laughed and heard a car drive away. In a blink of an eye, Naomi's nose was pressed against the window, watching the mailman drive away. She thudded down the steps and slid into the kitchen. Sprinting outside she opened the mailbox, finding a big stack of envelopes. She smirked and ran inside with them, "Bills, bills, People Magazine, bills, Sports Illustrated:Swimsuit Issue, bills..." she tossed them aside onto the front walk. "I'll take that," a hand grabbed the Sport Illustrated. "Eli," she rolled her eyes and sighed as she finished the stack, no letter from Juliard.
Eli laughed, "It's not even mine. We don't even subscribe to it," he flipped to the back and read the name, "Next door neighbors," he nodded to the left. "Whatever," she ran back to her room. Eli shrugged, "Touch-ee," he chuckled and ran outside, to ride his bike. Pulling open the garage, a sea of junk and toys spilled into the driveway. "Bike, bike, bike," he muttered scanning the mess. "There," his eyes brightened as he saw an old rusting red bike, beside Naomi's baby blue bike. Eli waded through the ocean of useless junk and pulled out the bike. He stare at the mess and figured his sister would probably follow him anyway. He rode down the sidewalk, his earbuds in his ears. He rode along the houses singing louder than he thought he would have Cough Syrup. "Life's too short to even care at all, woah-oh-oh. I'm losing my mind, losing my mond, losing control, woah-oh..."