Late Night Snacking

Josie G, Columnist

“But what could she be doing?!” I pace around my room, notebook in hand as I look out the window at my older sister playing volleyball in our backyard. I continue to mumble to myself as she sets the ball up to herself. Recently, my sister has been sneaking around. I hear her at one in the morning downstairs, doors closing shut, water running, and shuffling coming from her room. Now, I only hear these twilight movements because I am an eternal night owl. I am always up at all hours of the night reading my mystery novels, so when my sister, Libby, started acting suspicious, I sought to crack the mystery in my own home by following her around in order to uncover her secret. Thus far, I have gathered only a few pieces of vital information. First she always gets up around one AM,. the time our parents are most definitely asleep. Second, Libby has been skipping breakfast every morning. Could this be an effect of late night partying? Finally, my third piece of information, thanks to my room being located above the door to the garage, is I can hear that door open and close every night. 

Tonight, I spy on my sister. Everything I need sits in the bag on my shoulders: flashlight, a candy bar for snacking, my phone, and my handy notebook. The midnight moon looks back at me from my window, and the stars twinkle in the pitch darkness of night. With a sigh, I fall back onto my bed, waiting patiently for the sound of thumping footsteps. 

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! I jolt out of my bed, pulling my ski mask over my head. I grab the handle to my door and carefully, carefully, open it just wide enough that I can peek into the hallway. Libby stands halfway down the stairs, but she doesn’t have any party clothes on. Instead she dons her raggy gray sweatpants and an old volleyball tournament sweatshirt. This is certainly not a look for partying. In fact, she even has her glasses sitting on top of her messing bun. Doubt spreads throughout my body. My original suspicions of secret parties has been thrown out the window. What should I do now? I am deep in thought, worrying down on my lip, when the downstairs light flickers, and the creak of a door brings me back to reality. 

The second the creak of the door rang through my ears, and I crept into the hallway, lightly tiptoeing down the stairs. The first floor is pitch dark, but I can hear her shuffling. I keep inching forward despite the fear crawling in my stomach. 

Then, as I reach the bottom of the stairs, I feel as if I am stuck. The blackness surrounds me, clawing at my skin. My heart rate quickens, and my breath fills the air around me. The kitchen air makes the hair on my arms stick up. I reel in a circle, trying to find some way out of the dark hole that is my kitchen. 

THWACK! A cold hand slaps over my mouth. I scream into the hand, my spit and teeth slamming against the creased lines of the hand. I suddenly see the lights flicker, and I pray to God that I won’t die tonight. The person behind me spins me around to face them in the light. I relax slightly as I take in the ghostly pale face of my sister staring back at me. 

Her eyes are wide with shock. Her lips are wide open in shock, and chocolate is smeared along her bottom lip. I shove her hands off me, ripping my ski mask off my face. Around me the kitchen counter is littered with candy wrappers – MY candy wrappers from Halloween! This was not what I expected. But, I mean, it does make sense. The pantry door is next to the garage door, right under my room, and I never actually heard a car leave. All this time, she had been sneaking around to steal my candy.

“How could you?” I whisper shout, so that our parents can’t hear us. My face is red with fury. Even if finding my sister scrounging on my candy was the last thing I expected to find, it still infuriated me to my core. I loved my candy; I had worked hard to collect that treasure, which I was taking my time to savor and enjoy. My candy was my life, and yes, I’m territorial of my candy. Very territorial. Seeing her eat my candy was like seeing her taking away my only child. 

“I’m sorry! I got grounded on Halloween, and I really needed candy!” Libby exclaims quietly, her blue eyes bulging from their sockets, trying to frame the perfect puppy dog look as she sought compassion. I could tell by the way she is gripping onto my shoulders that she really is sorry, but I’m not going to let this slide. 

“I don’t care! It was my candy, and you know how much I love it” I’m close to losing it at this point, red blurring my vision as I wave my finger in her face. “I never expected you to do this. Party late at night? Yes. But steal something I love? Never.” Libby stares at me blankly, guilt etched across the plains of her face. 

I immediately felt remorse flood through my body as I took in this new expression. I love my sister so much, and I can never stay mad at her. I know she meant well, and I will eventually forgive her. Plus, I know I’m being a little bit overdramatic. I shake my head at her and fold her in my arms, laughing into her shoulder. 

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