Life as Mickayla Zevlin

This book is dedicated to Whitney Amber Roach, my book loving sister.

Chapter 1

The Party

“Shhhhhh!!!” Micki hissed.

“What? Were in need of some tune-age, it’s not like we’re on some top secret spy mission.”

“Yes it is. We are breaking into my brothers’ room to get his iPod and dock for some tune-age this is definitely a top secret spy mission.”

Drew then said, “Calm down! He’s not gonna find out.”

“Have you met him? He is dangerous and he knows all. He literally has files and a room that turns into a scientist’s lab. I think he’s lured kids in there before.”

“You’re freaking out about your six year old brothers. Do you know how ridiculous this is?”

“They are EVIL! Want me to spell it for you? E-V-I-L!”

“Corey and Sam are angels. I don’t see them doing the stuff like your older sister does.”

Samuel and Corey are the six year old devils that rule my home. They are the youngest and are very mature, very mature. The sister is McKenna. She is the normal drama queen and she has a boyfriend named . . . actually I don’t really know his name, because between me and Drew his name Quixotic Monkey. He is a pig. I mean yeah Drew and I are pigs but I mean he is disgusting. He picked up a half eaten sandwich out of a shoe and ate it with a week old pudding. I think he had to scout down the pudding. . .

I also have my aunt living with me. She occupies the third level of the house. It is even complete with kitchen bathroom and hose for a shower. Just Kidding. There is a shower. She has completely Ikea-ed it.

Then there is my other sister. Her name is Charlie. Yes, Charlie. It isn’t short for anything it is Charlie. My parents were hoping for a guy. It didn’t work. She is a sad, lonely, depressed, emo, I don’t know what to call her. Her room is completely black. She has black curtains and black and red bedspread. Her walls pitch black with the words of her published poem written in red across the floorboards. Posters of Avenged Sevenfold, Underoath, and Paramore cover the walls. Sigh. I am getting depressed just thinking about it. Let’s move on.

I live in a sixteen bedroom house with my aunt, my mom and four biological siblings, and six foster kids. My mom loves taking on troubled teens. It hasn’t paid off yet. Drew is one of them. He has been with the family since he was eight when he broke into the school and tried to burn it down. Now we are fifteen. It’s almost been eight years. We create turmoil together. I mean when I found out the reason he was in foster care I thought great. He must be good with accomplices. This means at first I only thought of him as a friend. Let’s just say I kind of Maybe have feelings for him. I mean if you tell anyone this though I will snap your arm in half. Especially if you tell him, He is my best friend. Actually, he is my only friend. Other then the kids that live with us, to me they don’t count though.

Drew has blue eyes. I mean I am like a major sucker for blue eyes but his hair doesn’t quite match up to my standards. He has black spiky hair. He is way tall though. I mean I am tall for a fifteen year old girl but he still overthrows me easily. He is six foot three inches tall. I mean is it just me or is that tall? All in all though I think he is my type. Again everything said in this book stays between you, me, and the front to back covers.

Now me, I hate how I look. I am a complete tomboy. I don’t play by the rules and if my mom knew half the stuff I did I would be dead meat. I have dirty blond hair and grey eyes. I am five foot six inches tall and I hate make-up. I love listening to rock music. Most people I know classify me as punk!

Now back to the situation at hand. Drew and I are sneaking into my brothers’ room. My mom and other foster kids are on a vacation. We said we would rather go stay with a couple friends. Then we arranged it with the friends’ moms that we would stay at the house and they could just come and tuck us in. So now we have the house to ourselves for the next week.

“Drew? Drew?” I was looking for him. He picked the lock perfectly. He was in. He was slowly filing through papers and boxes. There it was. The iPod was sitting on the dock on the shelf. He grabbed it and we walked out carefully. He shut the door and then he locked it. Perfect. I thought. I then started to go over the list.