Arranged Disaster

Back to normal (somewhat)

My Life always finds some way to destroy me. First, my mother died, and then my father remarried to a gold-digging hoe. Thinking that my sister and I needed a mother figure in our lives. AND NOW THIS!!!

"Good morning," my father said as he read the newspaper. I grunted as I went to my seat and waited for breakfast. My father and I were close when I was younger; I was my daddy's little girl. My sister, on the other hand, preferred spending more time with our mother, but in the end, we loved them both equally. People often say we look like our father, but I must disagree. Many of my features are from my father. I'm 5'5 with rich, dark skin, low-cut dark brown hair, and dark brown doe eyes. The doe eyes came from my mother. My Father is 6'4", has brown, low-cut hair with grey on his sideburns, rich brown skin, dark brown eyes, and a fit body, which is suitable for a forty-seven-year-old man. I heard footsteps and turned around to see my lovely sister, Summer, and Diana.

My sister is 5'1 ", has smooth, medium-brown skin, beautiful honey-brown eyes, short, tightly curled brown cinnamon hair, a little thick and all in the right places, and the face of a gorgeous Egyptian queen. I always thought she was the prettiest among us, but she always denied it, even though guys constantly tried to get her attention. She's also like a mother to me. Even though she's only twenty-one, she's kept the family intact all these years, especially when my father and I had some personal problems. Today, she looked presentable. Don't get me wrong, she has always known how to put an outfit together, but she hasn't put any effort into it since our mom died four years ago. I'm glad she's starting to return to normal.

Then there's Diana (A.K.A. hoe). She's 5'3, has delicate olive skin, mesmerizing Amethyst eyes, perfect strawberry blond hair, a somewhat skinny but curvy body, and the face of a goddess like Hera. That's probably how she got my father to marry her so quickly. That evil siren. She's old enough to be one of my sisters' friends. It makes you wonder what a twenty-eight-year-old woman is doing with a forty-seven-year-old man.

"Morning, Autumn," Summer said as she smothered me with kisses. "Good morning," I said groggily, pushing her away. "Good morning, Dad," Summer said sweetly. "Morning, pumpkin," he said, still not removing the newspaper. "Morning, babe," Diana said, kissing him. I gave them a look of disgust as I was holding in the puke that was rising in my mouth. Before Diana could say anything, the chef came to serve us breakfast, which was a relief because I had grown to dislike her voice. We ate silently for a while until my father decided to start a conversation.

"So, how's college life?" he asked.

"Fine," Summer and I said in unison.

"How's Tank?" he asked.

Alister (also known as Tank) has been my sister's boyfriend since the first grade. That's fifteen years, people; they are relationship goals. Alister is also 6'4, has the most beautiful sun-kissed skin I've ever seen, and is handsome. He's built like a military tank (which is why we call him... well, Tank), but he has the most love-filled hazel eyes for my sister. Every person he encountered feared him; little did they know that he was shy, caring, and a lover, not a fighter.

"He's fine. We're going on a date later," Summer said.

"That's good. When will you two get married? I'm not getting any younger," he said.

"That's true. I think I see some grey hair coming in, old man," I said teasingly.

His hand twitched slightly as he moved his paper away, revealing a mischievous look that said he would get me later. I smirked at him, letting him know his challenge had been accepted. Our father is a serious all-around guy, but he can't help but be a little childish around us. He's also the master of pranks; he hasn't lost to us yet.

"We're still...we're still in college, Dad. He wants...he wants to wait till we graduate," she said, holding in her laughter as she watched our silent conversation.

"That's good. It's nice to have a plan. What about you, sweetheart?" Diana said. I swear I rolled my eyes so far into my head I could see my brain. Her voice annoys me. I wish she would drop dead.

"I'm too busy with school to think about marriage," I said honestly and rudely.

"Well, don't get so busy that you forget to fall in love," Diana said, never taking her eyes off my father.

"I need to get ready for school," I said, going to my room.

When I arrived at my room, I went straight to the bathroom to freshen up; after freshening my breath, I took off my pajamas and stepped into the shower. After ten minutes, I went to my closet to select my outfit for the day. Looking through my closet, I pulled out my dark blue and black shorts-sleeved graphic t-shirt featuring a bird, black cargo pants, and black, grey, and blue sneakers. Next, I put on blue eye shadow, black eyeliner, and dark blue lipstick. I quickly lotioned my skin, brushed my low-cut amber hair, and left my room. Walking down the stairs, I could hear my father, sister, and Diana talking to a voice I knew way too well. I slid down the banister to get down there faster. Noticing me, he opened his arms, and I happily jumped into them.

"Thanks," I said excitedly.

"Hey, munchkin," he said.

"You two are so silly," Summer said, laughing.

"What happened to your hair?" Alister asked, putting me down.

"I cut it," I said happily.

"I don't know why you had such beautiful hair." I rolled my eyes, not paying attention to her words.

"Now we're twins," he said, laughing.

"Except you have more hair," I said as I messed up his hair.

"Hey, I just picked it out," he pouted.

"Aw, my poor baby," Summer said, kissing Aliter on his lips.

We all just laughed. It was slowly returning to normal—a house filled with laughter, as my mother would call it. After being silly, we kissed our father goodbye and went out the door. The drive to school was lively, filled with loud music, constant playful bickering, and laughter. I haven't felt this happy in a long time. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can bring me down.