I screamed as I ran down the stairs, but stopped abruptly when I reached the last step. Where was that music coming from?
People were running about the house, trailed by that strangely upbeat tune that happens in every old cartoon.
Yup, this house is really weird.
I saw a biker girl sitting on the floor, her back against the door. I couldn't be sure, because she was wearing her crash-helmet, but the way her shoulders shook made me think that she was crying.
I walked over, sliding down the wall to sit next to her.
"So... I guess you're depressed? I totally know how you feel. This house is crazy." She didn't even look at me when I spoke. I couldn't blame her, I wouldn't talk to a fourteen-year-old girl who was trying to make conversation to cheer me up, either.
I cleared my throat in the awkward silence, before continuing.
"Who's your author?" I thought that was a simple enough question, but the woman turned on me, frustrated.
"I don't know!"