Kidnapped

Chapter 1: Introduction

Just as the alarm clock buzzed, the sight of my mother and her boyfriend woke me up in the middle of my sleep.

Loud footsteps stormed across my favorite Scooby-Doo carpet, smudging Shaggy's eyes in the process.

"Come on Nicole," sighed Charlie, ripping away my lavender blanket off of me.

"It's time for you to go to school."

I moaned.

School is like the definition of suck; that's what every teenager thinks, but Mom and Charlie wouldn't believe me.

My full name is Nicole Teri Porter, but most people call me Cole for short. And the guy who is practically yelling for me to wake up is my future stepfather, Charlie.

He wore a dark green long sleeved shirt, has a large belly, blue eyes, and salt colored hair. What was unusual about him is that he is wearing Dora the Explorer boxers.

"Mom," I groaned into my pillow. "Why do I have to go to school?"

Mom's look made me squirm. "So you can get a job."

"Yeah," Charlie added. "And besides, I thought you like school."

I rolled my eyes at him: we moved from Michigan all the way to California.

The only reason why we moved here is because Mom can find a better job and a better house to take care of.

In a place called San Francisco, there are many questions you were dying to ask:

Where is Leonardo Dicaprio?

How far is Los Angeles?

And most importantly, Why does California have so many earthquakes?

"I know that," I reminded him. "But why do I have to go to school so early?"

"So you can get to school on time," Mom replied.

"Mom," I complained.

"Get ready Cole," Charlie interrupted, turning his back away from me.

I heard Charlie's footsteps as he marched downstairs to get his things ready. Seeing my frustration, Mom ruffled my hair.

"Cole," Mom began.

"I know how much you hate Charlie."

Of all Mom's weird boyfriends, Charlie is the worst. He has no friends, he has a creepy obsession with cats, and he likes to sleep in the couch.

I hopped out of bed and gave her a look.

"Mom," I responded. "Charlie is creepy!"

Mom gave a long sigh then said, "Honey, Charlie is a member of the family-" 

"He is wearing Dora the Explorer underwear!" I cried.

Mom swept the corn silk colored bangs out of her eyes then sighed.

"You need to go to school," she said. "Get good grades, and make friends, instead of reading those books you like so much."

What she meant by that is me reading endless volumes of Sherlock Holmes. I never knew why it was creepy for her, but I knew that she never understood mystery or suspense related novels.

Unlike most of the kids at my old school, I spend my time reading in the library. My mom worries about my antisocial habits and tried making me invite my female classmates over for a slumber party, but it never worked out for me.

Mom gave me a kiss on the forehead then left me to myself. I sighed then trudged into the bathroom. As I looked into the mirror, I grimaced at my reflection.

I had light brown skin, chin length dark hair, and baby brown eyes.

My skin and brown eyes were from my dad and the only two things I have inherited from Mom is her freckles and her skinny, yet curvy body.

I wore a yellow tank top and pink pajama pants. My bathroom was slightly larger than my old one. Instead of a hideous pink carpet, my new floor has blue tiles.

The walls were painted in cloudy gray rather than light pink. I don't recall if my old one had a mirror or even a bathtub.

I sighed again then started my lousy routine. I turned on the faucet sink then applied toothpaste on my brush.

After brushing my teeth, it took me awhile to put on my blue plaid shirt, blue skinny jeans, and boots.

I grabbed the comb that was sitting on the drawer and brushed my hair. After I was finished, I spread endless amounts of vanilla scented lotion on my face, arms, and hands.

As soon as I laced up my sneakers, I gave another long look at my bedroom mirror then stumbled downstairs.

I started to snatch an apple from a glass fruit bowl, but that was when Charlie glanced at me.

"I'm making pancakes," he stated, pointing to the mound of pancake batter sitting on the frying pan.

The new kitchen was my least favorite part of the new house.

The pantry, food cupboards, and the walls were drenched in hideous orange, our new wooden countertop  has just been scratched, and the floor was now covered in pancake flour.

The living room was like a garage. Mostly because we put our boxes in there until we find a more suitable space.

Luckily, we have a flat screen television and a comfy large black couch so we can all sit there.

I walked up to the living room couch to get my purple backpack, sitting in between the cushions.

Just then, Charlie cleared his throat. "How do you like San Francisco so far?"

"It's nice," I shrugged, plucking the apple from the fruit bowl.

I sink my teeth into the apple's sweet white flesh and swallowed it.

Charlie frowned instantly and scowled at my choice of breakfast.

"What about pancakes?" he asked.

"I don't eat breakfast," I said flatly. "Where's Mom?"

"She's driving to work," he grumbled.

Probably it was because I never paid Charlie some attention. After I finished my apple, I tossed the core into the trash can, hoisted my backpack, and walked to school.

"See you Charlie," I called.

Charlie was completely unaware that the pancake was burning in the pan.

But nonetheless, he waved goodbye. As soon as I was out of the house, I heard a lot of commotion coming from the house next door to me.

Like mine, it has grayish brown paint with two windows, a small garage, and a quarter size patch of green lawn. A long white driveway was cemented on top of the grass.

The door bursted open and a boy around my age came out of the house. He had messy brown hair, green eyes, and pale skin.

He wore a black hoodie, matching pants, and sneakers. I notice the boy is carrying a heavy gray backpack.