You had fallen extremely sick. By sick, i mean vomiting every hour or so and a “kill-my-self” worthy stomach ache. Your parents were out of town, and everyone else seemed to be busy. Conveniently, your enemy, Lorenzo, was the only person available. It physically pained you for your fingers to even hover over his contact number, but you really had no choice.

20 minutes later, you heard a soft knock at the door. “Who is it?” You call out. “Santa,” Enzo giggles, “hurry up and open the door.”