Rose

14

The sun rose and everything fell. Alex knew this was going to happen; his mother had been right, right all along. He knew that now. But it was too late. Here his mother was, staring at him with her eyes full of accusation and hurt. Pointing with her hand, insisting with her body language that he consent with her and reveal his fault. Alex took a deep breath and turned around, facing the door behind him. He didn't want to do it, but he had to. He must. Alex stared at the door handle and...
But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. We have to start over at the beginning and tell the whole story, so you can understand what we're getting at here.
Alex was your average kid. You know: he went to school, did homework, watched TV, hung out with friends. He made average grades, wasn't popular or unpopular at school, and had a fairly normal household. But one day, everything fell; literally.
You see, Alex's mom wanted him to clean his room. Simple task, right? Wrong! Alex was genuinely surprised when he went into his room and couldn't even see the floor. How in the world had his room gotten to be such a wreck? He hadn't ever noticed it. Maybe his mom was right in getting him to clean a little bit. So, Alex started doing little things here and there: picking up the dirty clothes and throwing them into the hamper, picking up the clean ones and putting them into the dresser, shuffling his toys around with his feet. But pretty soon, Alex had a problem. He began stuffing the clothes in the dresser, mashing the dirty ones in the hamper while grunting, "Come on! You WILL fit!" The toys didn't seem to have room anywhere: in the toy chest, on the dresser, under the bed. Finally, Alex was forced to admit defeat, and grabbing anything and everything left on the floor, he tossed them in the closet and slammed the door shut before they could all come tumbling out again. Pleased with his handy work, Alex then proceeded to go downstairs, plop on the couch, and turn on his favorite show. It probably would have ended there if his mom hadn't remembered her request. "Alex!" she called from the top of the stairs. "Did you clean your room?" Alex jumped up from the couch and then ran up the stairs. He knew what his mom would do: a thorough survey of his entire room. He somehow had to keep her from looking in the closet.
When Alex walked in his room, he saw his mom already looking around with a critical eye. As casually as he could, Alex walked over to the closet, and then leaned his back against the door as nonchalantly as he could manage. His mom continued to walk around the room, seemingly pleased with the result. "Wow, Alex," she said, turning to him with a look of approval, "you actually cleaned up pretty well. I mean, even under your bed..." she paused when she noticed Alex's quick, almost distinguishable glance towards the article in question. "You did not!" his mom protested, the approval slipping into disapproval. She walked over to his bed and, lifting the cover, took a peek under it. The result made her gasp and Alex wince. "Alex Hannibal Abbadelli!" she cried, swinging around on her heel dramatically. "You ought to know better than this!" her voice came out in a hiss. "Is anything else like this in your room?" she demanded. Alex involuntarily shifted on the closet door, drawing his mom's eye instantly. Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh, Alex," she murmured, "why? You know better than that. Move aside and open that door." Shame filled him. Alex knew this was going to happen; his mother had been right, right all along. He knew that now. But it was too late. Here his mother was, staring at him with her eyes full of accusation and hurt. Pointing with her hand, insisting with her body language that he consent with her and reveal his fault. Alex took a deep breath and turned around, facing the door behind him. He didn't want to do it, but he had to. He must. Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.