You're Already Mine

Chapter One

I picked up another rock and tossed it into the lake as my foot slipped on the wet sand. I didn't mind.

The seashells across the shore glinted and glimmered in the sunlight. Further down the shore, my little sister, Sally, is picking up conches and clams from the warm, dry sand that's soft like flour.

"Five more minutes," Mom reminds us. We're going to the bakery afterwards to celebrate our parents' two-year anniversary.

My stepdad reaches the sand in his kayak. He went out with my older brother, Lucas, who was paddling up to the shore as well.

I sat down and scooted my feet into the sand while the rest of my family went back to the cabin to change.

"Week's almost up," Kenneth said, nodding at Mom. "Almost time for summer vacation."

"Yup," Mom agreed. She folded her towel and shoved it into her bag. "Taking the van on Saturday at noon," she said to me, Sally, and Lucas. Today was Thursday.

Mom, Kenneth, Sally, Lucas, and I piled back into the car and drove to the bakery in town. We each got a cinnamon roll and a bottle of soda and then we drove to the pit stop to get gas on our way back home.

I unraveled my cinnamon roll to break little bits off and eat them. Sally made a show-off of herself as always and licked the frosting off of her cinnamon roll like a cat and then nibbled the actual roll like a mouse would nibble a cracker or piece of cheese. Lucas just stabbed his with a plastic fork and chopped off the end of the frosted bread.

We live in a cabin on stilts on one of the beaches in Colorado. When we got home, my German Shepherd puppy, Cocoa, leapt up from her peaceful state in her ratty old bed into her wild and crazy jumping, barking frenzy where she chases her tail around my legs, doing a figure-eight around my ankles and nipping at her tail. Then she stops, sits down prettily in front of my toes, and looks up at me with longing eyes. Her dad, Spruce, groans as Sally rubs his ears.

"Hey, my silly little ball of energy," I say, offering her a dog treat. She takes it from my fingers and gobbles it up. I pick Cocoa up by the waist and turn towards Mom. "Why can't Cocoa come? We'll be gone for more than a month."

"I don't know," Mom says again with another sigh. "Your dad and I'll talk about it. Cocoa isn't really a good hiking dog or a water dog, and Spruce is staying with the neighbor. We'll see."

I go upstairs to my room. "Cocoa," I call, turning back a second and patting the back of my right thigh. She wags her tail and trots up the stairs after me.

My dog and I go upstairs to my bedroom. After I open the door and turn on the fluorescent lights, the little furry ball of energy trots inside and flops down on her dog bed.

My room would be about as big as the kitchen if it weren't so crowded.

Along the wall opposite the door there's a double bed with the head end beneath the window. On either side there's bedside drawers next to where the pillows are.

Left side has a digital alarm clock and a charging station for my phone. In the top drawer there's a stash of candy and salty snacks and in the bottom drawer are a few of my favorite books and magazines.

Right side there's a lamp and noise machine. Top drawer has my jewelry box and the bottom drawer is where I store all of my trinkets.

I can't sleep when there's no background noise because Cocoa is always super noisy at night. I also like to collect trinkets from the garage's storage room so I can make money off of them one day.

I pace around in the open floor space and Cocoa itches her ears with the back left leg, and dog fur spreads all over the satin sheets.

"That dog," I murmur with a smile, shaking my head as I pace back and forth from side to side of the bedroom.