Penelope wished she could live in a normal world, but that just wasn’t going to happen. My mom is completely nuts; she thinks I should bring Noah over for dinner soon… like that’s ever going to happen. All she would do after he leaves would be talking about how he’s such a nice boy and how handsome he is, barf. Let’s keep my private life private, thanks mom. She scrunched her face and closed her eyes, dad’s never around which I don’t mind, but when he is around he’s kind of psycho, yelling and drinking are kind of his thing. My mom says he did something bad when he was younger and he still can’t get over it, I don’t buy it, she thought as she flopped over on her side. Life is pretty crazy around the house, and I think that’s why I depend on Noah so much, I mean he is practically magical. The way he looks at me with his soft brown eyes makes me melt into the floor; she smiled and bit her lip. Sometimes the world stops, only for a moment, and I can take a look at the craziness going on around me. With this tiny little planet being more overpopulated than ever, and me living in New York, it’s crazy that I have any hope of actually doing something with my life, but that could all end soon.
At night, crazy people come out, so we are required to be home by 9 o’clock, which is kind of hard to do when you’re supposed to be a rebellious teenager. Every night the same person shows up in the same clown mask, most times with a knife, other nights with different weapons but they always show up with something that could kill us. I don’t know why they never come in because I don’t think it’s just to scare us. She turned off the light on her bedside table and pulled the silky gray sheets along with her doughy white comforter over her head.
I hate this, I always find myself thinking, usually about nothing, other times about everything and questioning the world we live in, wondering what it was like 100 years ago. Sleep never comes easily, especially on nights when I can hear Mr. Clown banging on the front door with his mutilated doll. It used to have frizzy, curly, mahogany hair just like me, until it was ripped out after the doll fell out of my window. I was never able to find that doll, but I guess someone else did. Great, it’s one o’clock and I’m sitting here talking to myself. 
Noah was here, the window was open and a cold breeze danced across Penelope’s nose. Everything else was warm, no hot, okay, now she was sticky with sweat. She lightly pushed the covers off of her bed trying not to wake the cat or step on Noah. He looked so peaceful sleeping on the itchy wool rug. She smoothed out my shorts and reached down to grab her brush.
“JESUS CHRIST!” she jabbed at finger at his chest, “ Noah. You almost killed me, and you can’t just sneak up on me like that!” Penelope walked off to take a shower, “Now shoo.”
She had just gotten her bathroom redone and it was beautiful. It had an open shower with gray tile on all sides, a sparkling white bathtub in the corner, and smooth white tile floors. The room steamed up after her shower and she wiped away the fog to see herself in the mirror. She brushed out her long curls, and with impeccable skill, managed to cover every surface in the bathroom with water. When she left the bathroom Noah wasn’t in the room and the window was closed. The only trace of him ever being here was a note reading:
Happy Birthday!! I wish I could stay but I have things I need to take care of. I wish you all of the milkshakes in the world, and I hope your parents don’t smother you even more today. Meet me on 4th and Cooper at midnight. Don’t ask, it’s a surprise.   -Noah :)
Penelope could smell the bacon from here and she knew she had to go downstairs even if it meant being sung to by the most tone-deaf people in the world. She pulled on her favorite snowflake pajama shirt and a pair of shorts, and with a massive pile of regret sitting on her shoulder she walked downstairs.
“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” She plugged her ears and groaned so she wouldn’t hear the alien sounds coming out of my family’s mouths. A smile cracked open and Penelope began bursting into laughter. Her family’s voices, although quite horrendous, were funny because they were trying so hard.
When they were done she went around the table and gave her mom, sister, and other sister a hug. She opened cards and presents, and ate breakfast while talking about how it felt different to be seventeen. She laughed and talked with her family for hours, but eventually someone had to pee and the conversation flat-lined. She bolted upstairs to change because it was a family tradition to go ice-skating on birthdays no matter how old the person was. Luckily, Penelope’s birthday was in December, so they could go skating on the lake right outside of their house.
She shoved her legs into a pair of jeans, slipped on a long and short sleeve, and pulled on her favorite winter jacket. Running downstairs again she called out for her mom and sisters, swooped up her skates and glided out the door. It was a clear and sunny, yet very cold, day in Massachusetts and Penelope grinned. She walked down the path to the lake and flopped down on the nearest log on the edge of the ice to slide her skates on. She burst onto the lake with her littlest sister Cameron by her side, and they twirled and danced, and fell flat on their butts, but that wasn’t something that they needed to talk about. The rest of Penelope’s family joined and they skated for what seemed like days, but frozen hands and feet ruined the fun. They walked back up the trail and into the living room where the sipped hot chocolate and dozed by the fire in cozy beanbags.
Before she knew it, it was time for dinner and Penelope could not wait for a delicious taco bar. She ate herself into a food coma, barely crawled upstairs, and fell asleep in her bed.
There was a tap on her window and she turned away, it was 1 o’clock in the morning and she was not ready to wake up. She heard her window open and she sat up.
“Penelope, you were supposed to meet me tonight,” whispered a familiar voice. She turned on her light so that she could match a face to the voice.
“Sorry Noah, I totally spaced. I also didn’t want to die tonight,” she said sarcastically.
“It’s not a joke, I could’ve died. I was waiting for you for an hour.”
“Well sorry for not being there all the time, it’s not my fault. I mean you could’ve scheduled for a better time,” Penelope retorted.
“Maybe you being such a brat won’t make this as hard as I thought it would be.”
“What’s so ha-,” before Penelope could finish her sentence Noah plunged a knife into her side. She whispered for help with her last push of air but no one was around, and no one would wake up for hours.
As Noah snuck out the window he pulled on an all too familiar mask and smirked. As he made his way across town back to his house he whistled as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He suddenly stopped in the middle of a dark and damp tunnel and sat, waiting. A man dressed in all black emerged from the shadows with a small knife and grabbed Noah’s wrist. He cut in, and along with a chip, a small drop of blood hit the ground. Noah shuddered.
“Good job soldier,” said the man in black, “your job is done. Now you can go back to living your normal life and forget that you were chosen for this process. The chosen murdered can’t know they are in danger. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir,” Noah replied.
No one ever figured out what happened to Penelope. All they know is that one night she disappeared, and was never seen again.