WHO: tiny!Andrea and Billy Idol ... erm, Spike. Yeah. Him. WHERE: First older!Andrea's bedroom than the hallway of the third floor. WHEN: July 7th, 2009. The morning. WHAT: Andrea wakes up and expects it to be 1989. ExCUUUUUUUSE her if she's freaked! Rating; Dudes, it's Spike! STATUS: Closed/Incomplete
It had taken her forever to fall asleep the previous night. She had been wriggles and excitement and insistence; despite her mother and grandmother's own insistence that she go to bed. Andrea had finally been threatened, corralled, and blackmailed into bed by 11 PM the previous night; however, she was pretty sure she hadn't fallen asleep until four in the morning (in reality she lasted just an hour and a half). It wasn't her fault. You couldn't blame her! She was turning eight today. Eight might not be a big deal to some but in her house it meant she was one year older and just a little bit closer to bigger people stuff rather than the littler people stuff. Eight meant a lot of things. It meant she was getting taller and her abuela had promised that she could start being part of more of the conversations around the house since she wasn't a baby anymore. She wasn't seven she was eight. And seven meant that her teeth were filling in. They were almost all back, especially the ones in the front. And eight meant a private coach. Her mother had been saving up for her gymnastics. Eight was so many things. But best of all? Eight meant birthday party at McDonalds.
The former seven year old couldn't wait and as she wiggled around in her bed, fighting back yawns and exhaustions (she didn't want to hear 'I told you so's about her going to bed past her bedtime), she waited to listen for the sound of her birthday breakfast. Of course, she'd be up and about to help but for now she wanted to savor the feeling of being eight for a few more seconds.
However, instead of the sound of pots clanging and coffee churning and the two most important people in her life chatting ... Andrea heard the sound of silence. She heard nothing. And when she opened her eyes,she was met with a sight that had her scrambling back immediately.
It was the sight of a room clearly not hers.
She was eight. She was eight and she could handle this, but it wouldn't be so bad that she let out a small, tremulous, whisper, "Mommy?" Her small chest rising and falling quickly as she pushed herself out of bed. Small feet meeting the floor easily. She was tall for her age. Always had been. Her abuela said it'd taper off by junior high and before she went off into six feet or higher.
She reached back for her doll and her stuffed animal. Of course, neither were there but she was eight and really, it could be expected. It wasn't as if she ever let go of either when she fell asleep. She wanted her mommy. She wanted her mother right now. She wasn't liking any of this. Had they moved? Was that it? Had they moved over night? Except even at eight that didn't quite make sense to her. Her mother would have filled her in on something that big. And most importantly she still would have had her stuffed animal and her doll.
Not bothering to look through the bedroom, Andrea opened the door and walked out into what seemed to be a kitchen. Frowning, Andrea returned into the bedroom. Then looked out into the kitchen. This wasn't her apartment and there didn't seem to be anyone out here.
Her options were to A) stay where she was and hope that her mother would find her or B) Run like hell and leave wherever it was she'd found herself and then call for her mommy in a pay phone or something. Andrea was pretty sure she could do that. They'd practice this. Well, not if she'd ever woken up in a strange place. But if she ever got lost who to call and how to use a pay phone. Her mommy would pick up the phone and then come to find her.
There was a settlement, a peace that spread through her chest as she thought the words. Her heart wasn't beating at that defening sound that it just been drumming out a few minutes ago. She was still scared. However, Andrea Rojas was absolutely certain in her mother ability to find her anywhere she went, it could almost be called amazing. Or touching. But where else another child would be crying, she was relatively calm.
Blinking back tears, she went back into the bedroom. I did say relatively.
In order to use a pay phone she needed money. Stealing was bad but kidnapping was worse. She was pretty sure that Father Mike would ask God to forgive her this once. Grabbing the purse she'd remember spotting, Andrea dumped it and took what seemed to be a change purse. Opening it, she was relieved to see that it was.
Determined and repeating the mantra and reassurance that her mother would find her, and that her grandmother would be right behind her ... if not right next to her, Andrea walked out into the kitchen. Pulling open a drawerer, she stood on her toes and pulled out a spatula. Yes, the first thing her mind went to for defence was a spatula. She was eight. Sue her. Besides it was a metal spatula.
Money and defence at hand, Andrea resolutely slinked out of the apartment.
Tip-toeing across the hall, looking back and forth and side to side, forth and back. That she nearly collided into a pair of feet. Nearly. But not quite. As it were she managed to stop herself just in time but that didn't stop the eight year old from falling hard on her behind. "Ow." She complained. Quickly, though, she skidded backwards and to her feet. Spatula held at the ready. However, she couldn't help but lower it a bit as she frowned at who was standing before her. "Billy Idol?" She asked ... albeit a bit hopefully. Billy Idol was the greatest. She listened to all his songs, even the ones her abuela didn't want her to (which really was all of them). And even though she didn't know what half of them meant she knew all of the words.
Because of this, Andrea's heart managed to taper off into something even more normal. She was filled with the very rational (need I remind you .. she's eight?) thought that Billy Idol would save her. People believed in Santa Clause. Which she did too. But she believed in the power of Billy Idol and Michael Jackson. And Tiffany.
Still what would Billy Idol be doing here. Andrea discretely pinched herself. Nope. Still there. He was awfully glarey though.
"You look so much cooler in person." She rattled off. "And your jacket is much less lame. I like this one much better than the other ones. But we've got to go now. Mama is going to be so mad that I'm not in my bed ... and sad, and I don't want her sad. It sucks. Really it does. And today's my birthday and we've got to hurry and go and --" She was going to reach for his hand. Yes, yes don't talk to strangers but this was Billy IDOL! They understood each other. However, as she was about to approach closer, she noticed something.
Billy didn't have a scar. It was quite possible that he could have gotten it between now and the last time he saw him (last night on her T.V.). However, Andrea noticed some other things that had her taking quick and careful steps back, spatula raised. He was a Billy Idol impostor! What a loser!