The Canvas, Part II

The guests were expensively dressed and roaming around her home with cocktails in their hands. The caterers were busily picking up empty glasses and delivering new ones to the snoody social elitists. Emerson clung to her mother’s side as she was introduced to several of her family’s acquaintances as they pinched her cheek and told her how cute she was. Emerson hated this sort of thing; no matter how many guests she met, she would never remember the names of all these old people.
After an hour or so of this tiring socializing, Emerson decided she would wander around her home alone and see if there was anywhere that she could escape the drunk madness that her house had become. She snuck into the living room, wove in and out of conversing adults, and opened the hidden door behind the couch. The tunnel was only big enough for children; there was no way she could be followed in here. She crawled through the dark, dusty tunnel with peeling wallpaper and burnt out sconces until she saw the light from her favorite room in the house.
She entered the small pink room and dove into a pile of elegant floor pillows and stuffed animals. With a huge, relieving sigh, Emerson laid back and closed her eyes. She started to daydream about the usual- jumping into a sparkling lake, riding a cloud up to the stars, and her other imaginative fantasies. She was finally at peace.
“Hey,” said a muffled voice. Emerson let out a shriek and jumped so high she almost hit the ceiling. She ran to the other side of the room and flipped the switch. The chandelier illuminated the room as the pile of stuffed animals started to dismantle and a hand and foot broke through the fluffy barrier. Pretty soon, a little boy emerged and stood in front of her, her jaw dropped wide open and eyes as big as the moon. “I’m Riley,” he said. Emerson was so shocked she still could not muster a word.
“Is this your house?” Riley asked.
“Well yes, I don’t know how anyone else could’ve found this room…then again, here you are!” Emerson responded.
“I was just wandering. I came here with my dad. He’s the governor,” Riley bragged.
“Why do you think I care?” Emerson sassed. She picked up a stuffed giraffe and threw it at his head. Grinning like a fool, Riley picked up a green elephant and returned the favor. Before they knew it, there was a full blown stuffed animal war, tigers and bunnies flying through the air, until they found themselves fighting back through the dark hallway they had entered from.
The competition was getting fierce as they giggled and pushed each other through the tunnel. Emerson tumbled backwards in her little pink dress as she knocked open the hidden door and fell into the living room. Without realizing it, Riley chucked the biggest, heaviest stuffed animal goat through the door and over the couch until it stopped at a 90-year-old’s neck as she fell to the ground, taking a giant vase and her cocktail glass with her. The vase and glass smashed on the floor and the little old lady lay helpless on the ground with the stuffed goat at her side. An uproar of the houseguests pursued and Emerson’s mother came running into the room. Emerson and Riley ducked behind the couch in hiding, but it was too late: Emerson’s mother was stomping over in their direction, face red with anger.
“Come out Emerson, you’re in a lot of trouble young lady!” Emerson’s mother yelled. Emerson felt a wave of guilt, then of desperation, then grabbed Riley’s hand and sprinted past her mother.
They ran through the massive rooms and bumped into innumerous adults until they reached the back door. Emerson led the way as they ran through the snow in their fancy attire until they reached the ladder of the treehouse. Without words, they both climbed as rapidly as they could to their safe haven, a beautiful room with candles and Emerson’s own artwork displayed on the walls. Breathing heavily and with shoes covered in snow, they collapsed on the giant beanbag in the middle of the floor in each other’s arms.