The cabin had some sort of musky smell, yet it wasn't unpleasant. Everything in the cabin, from the dark mahogany hue of the wooden walls, to the faint touches of color and spring brought about by the furniture fabrics, reminded me of a little quaint cottage found on the countryside. I felt almost at home in this little cabin. Yet it also reminded me of those getaway scenes in the movies. That is what our father said it was. A safe haven.
My life is almost this never ending cliche. I have the evil grandmother, well, usually it's the step-mother, but it's the same idea. Then there is us - the good guys - trying to save someone, or rather something. We were trying to save our family. I can only hope that it follows the most cliche part of any story: the good guys prevail. This was going to be our hideout, like our own bat-cave in Gotham City, our own ABC Cafe in the French Revolution. Maybe I was making too big a deal about this. We're talking about my grandmother here, not a whole army, or a creepy dude who wears too much makeup, has creepy scars, and not to mention kills people in any disturbing way possible. My grandmothers no Joker, but they do both wear an outrageous amount of makeup.
"Megan, can you please just tell me what is going on?" Mace whined.
"Mace, sit down. Okay so where do I begin?" I pondered. My fingers were tapping on the table as I thought. Tap, tap, tap. I felt pain in my fingers. I saw Mason's hand retreating, and his expression one of utter annoyance.
"Meg, just tell me what the hell is going on!" Mace bellowed.
I let out a deep sigh.
"Okay, I can do this, I can do this," I muttered under my breath.
"Meg, really?"
"GrandmotherpracticallyhatesmebecauseIremindherofourfatherandshewantedtogetridofhimsothatwecouldneverseehimagain." I rushed out.
"Pardon?"
"So, Grandmother hates me and our father, but she hates me because I remind her of our father. And she tried to get rid of him because she thought he wasn't good enough for the Forester family," I explained, twiddling my thumbs.
Mason looked at me incredulously for a second. Then, for some reason, he started laughing. Laughing!
"Honestly, that's good Meg. You sure got me, ha, Grandma? Grandma hating someone? You're funny Meg!"
"What?" I inquired, positively confused. He thought I was kidding? He looked at my expression and sobered up.
"Please tell me you aren't serious. Did he brainwash you or something?" He pointed toward out father, using an accusatory tone as he spoke.
"No, but if you don't remember the past correctly, I'll have to enlighten you. Why is it that we spent all our time in the trailer parks?"
"Because he ditched us, and we had no where to go!" he yelled. I kept my cool.
"Don't you think that if Grandmother really cared about us, she would have rescued us from the get-go because she is powerful like that?"
"Well, I - uh..."
"And what about all the times you and Erin, and Max, and Jacob, and practically everyone else in the family got presents for Christmas, what did I get?"
"She must have given you something. I don't remember what it was..."
"What about our birthday party? What did the sign say?" I questioned, folding my arms. He started to realize. He put a hand over his mouth.
"'Happy Birthday Mason', and then on the side it said 'and Megan'"
"See?"
"Well, it doesn't explain anything else. Like why would she be that mean to you?"
YOU ARE READING
Luckless
RomanceMeg Forester is your average teenage girl, except for the fact that she's in love with the guy that is dating her cousin, Aaron Miller. If that isn't bad enough, she has a bratty little sister who doesn't shut up, a grandmother that thinks she's the...
