“I don't care what the reason was! You still left!”
“And your point is?”
“Don't back-sass me! I'm your mother!”
“Oh really? You sure as hell don't act like it.”
Sighing, I shook my head and brought my plate to the sink. It was only seven fifteen; the same argument has been going on since five-fifteen—when my alarm clock went off. To add on to my already long lists of stress and aggravating things, because of Trace and his constant nagging, I didn't fall asleep until at least four, and that means the mean side of me was going to show in school. Not mean, per se, but the smallest thing is going to be able to annoy me today, and I hate being irritable in school. At home? That's another story, especiallysince my brother is back and is causing such an uproar in the house.
So, after two hours of listening to their constant, repetitive arguing, I decided I'd just head to school early and finish the homework that I didn't get the chance to last night. Trace wouldn't stop bothering me about the whole 'Guy In My Window' situation, and that made it both impossible to finish my homework, let alone sleep. I was about to make him go sleep on the couch as opposed to my room, but that would have given him another reason to complain, and I really wasn't up for hearing it. After having two different guys break into your room, two days, back to back, you wouldn't really be all that happy, either.
I walked over to the front door and grabbed my black book bag off of the floor; putting it on over my coat; my only cover from the hideous uniform that I was required to wear everyday. It was pretty much every Asian girls nightmare; the green and black pleated skirt, the white button down with matching tie and a black blazer over it. I didn't even go to a private school, so why we were forced to wear uniforms was completely beyond me. Maybe something with the budget, but then again, that doesn't make sense. What would the money our parents spend have anything to do with the money that the school gets? I shook it off, not really feeling like thinking of anything trivial this early in the morning.
Looking back at my mom, I saw her with her hand on her face; something she did when she was aggravated. “Well, I'll be off to school now.” No one answered—not that I expected them to when they were in such a heated discussion. It would probably still be going when I got back from school, but I'd avoid that bridge when I came to it. I honestly think that this argument could have ended hours ago, but since they were both the kinds of people who fought for attention, there was no doubt in my mind that this was going to be a long argument—and again, for no reason.
I quickly shut the door behind me and began the freezing commute to school. The snow was up to my ankles, and I thanked the school for not making us wear any specific kind of shoes. If they had, the snow would be in my shoes as opposed to sticking to the outside. Now, I wasn't as stupid as most girls who wore—or bought—hundred dollars UGS and then ruined them in the snow. Bargain or not, as long as my feet were warm, I didn't care what I wore. 'Which is why I'm such an outcast. . .'
Shaking my head, I brought my headphones up to my ears and listened to the song Bring Me To Life. Rock music calmed me down—and no, I'm not one of those cliché girls who only says that to sound cool. I genuinely prefer rock over any other kind of music, though I'm open to listen to anything. Variety keeps the brain healthy, or some crap like that.
The snow around me began to blow around in the breeze, making me shiver. My torso was warm and protected, but my legs were freezing in this skirt. Knee length or not, I had skinny legs; I was going to get cold no matter what I wore!
At this point, I would pretty much do whatever I had to to stop focusing on how cold my legs were, so I looked up at the clouds and watched as more snow slowly began to fall. The small flakes of white cascaded in a disarray and landed on the ground; making the piles of snow even bigger than they needed to be. I couldn't deny that it was pretty, but I'd enjoy it a bit more if the price of seeing it wasn't losing the feeling in my body. Though, snowball fights were definitely epic with Cassie; she never let a winter go by when we didn't have at least one snow ball fight—and I mean a real one; not a cheap 'I throw one, you throw one'. She wanted wars, and somehow, she always talked me into getting into one with her. But who was I to complain? Snowball fights were like a right of passage; not liking them would be almost inhumane! So, every year, towards the middle of winter, we'd have the biggest brawl with the snow, most of the times, resulting in some bruising, but that made it all the more interesting.
The song was about halfway over when I decided to turn up the volume in attempt to block out the sound of the cars driving by. That wasn't a very good idea considering cars tend to slide and crash when there's a lot of ice on the ground, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I was quick on my feet when necessary—unless caught off guard. Then I'm screwed. . .
Not really caring, I continued my walk to school; legs shaking and music blaring. The passerby's on the sidewalk all looked at me for my loud music, but I ignored them and walked the last mile or so to the school. I didn't usually walk; my mom didn't think it was safe or something like that. So, every chance she got, she'd drive me and then head back home so she could sleep before she went to work. But since she was so busy arguing with my brother, she didn't have the time to—or the attention span to notice that I even left the house. That left me walking a mile and a half in the snow, and as much as I hated it, I'd put up with it. There was something wrong with my mom when she was mad, and it was something no one wanted to deal with. 'Smart people,'I thought to myself, 'smart people indeed.'
I had been walking distraction free for about ten minutes before my phone went off, and surely enough, when I looked at the caller ID, it was my mom. She would probably be a bit upset because I left the house, but had I stayed any longer, I would have tried to shoot them—or myself. I'm pretty sure suicide is something that they want me to avoid—along with homicide—so me leaving was good for everyone!
Taking a quick breath, I pulled one of my headphones and brought my phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
She didn't say anything for a few seconds, but when she started, I wished she hadn't. “Where are you, Adriana?! You had me worried sick! You know I don't like it when you walk to school, especially when there's snow out there! How do I know you're not getting mugged or kidnapped or run-over or something?!”
“Mom, you need to calm down. This is New York; it's not like I'm going to get shot out here.”
“Now you're talking about guns?!”
I mentally smacked myself for even bringing up the subject. My mom was sensitive to something as small as me getting confronted by a stranger—male or female—at the mall, so me talking about guns probably wasn't one of my brightest ideas. But whatever, what can she do? Sue me? “Mom, I-”
“-don't move! I'm coming to get you!”
“But I-”
“-no!”
“Mom, I'm fine-”
“-I said don't move!”
And then she hung up. Something in my gut told me to stay put and do as she said, but then there was another part of me that told me to run as fast as I could and get away from here before my hysterical mother had a chance to show up. So, going with the second option, I quickly turned around and began speed walking in the direction of the school. I was about three fourths of the way there when the sound of a car beeping it's horn stopped me right in my tracks. My first thought? Rapist. There was a rapist behind me in white van who wanted my lady parts and he wasn't going to stop until he got them.
Much to my surprise though, when I turned around expecting to see my rapists' van behind me, I saw something else that caught me off guard. It was a black jeep with tinted windows and a silver plated rims. The car itself screamed 'Intimidating' and whoever was inside clearly had the wrong intentions. 'Who would have thought my mommy dearest was right...'The first thing I wanted to do was turn around and just continue walking as if I never saw the car, but when the window rolled down and the all too familiar face appeared, I knew I had nothing to worry about. “What are you doing here?”
“Am I not allowed to give a pretty girl a ride?”
Laughing at his stupidity, I turned around and continued walking, only to have him drive really slowly behind me. “You know, I'm almost certain that this is harassment.”
“It could be, but you're my sister; I have nothing to worry about—and neither do you.” Stopping the car, he got out and walked over to me, all but throwing me over his shoulder and into the van. It sounded like something a kidnapper would do, but my brother isn't that stupid. 'Or is he? He's been gone for four years; he could be a serial killer for all I know! Plus he almost hit me yesterday! I'm pretty sure that qualifies as having some sort of stupidity in him!'I shrugged it off; anything it better than being with a hysterical mother and a drunk father. Was he drunk for sure? Probably not, but that seems like the cliché way to get over your problems; drink until they're dust in the wind or something sentimental like that.
Once I was inside the car, Trace walked around to the other side and began driving in the direction of the school—which caught me off guard. “How do you know where you're going?”
Rolling his eyes, he sped up a bit and shook his head. “You forget that we haven't moved. I knew where everything was before I 'ran away' as mother calls it. It helped a lot too,” he grinned, “it gave me options of places where I could go if I needed to.”
That wasn't something I really wanted to hear, but I didn't say anything. What he during his time away was his business, and while I was curious, I knew better than to ask. Why? Because if I asked what he had been doing, he'd ask about Haydn, and I didn't want to explain a lost cause.
For a while, I just looked out the window, but I got bored after about two minutes and I decided to look at what my brother was wearing. From what I could see, it was a pair of black dress pants, a new pair of sneakers that I've never seen before and just a black sweat shirt. I put the three things together and grew wide eyed. “Why are you wearing a uniform?”
Grinning even wider than before, he shrugged. “You have a new student attending your school. You're looking at the newest edition to your senior class.”
My jaw fell open as I stared at him in awe. “Please tell me you're not serious. . .” Not in an incest way, I knew my brother was hot. He had the blue eyes, the blonde hair and the body that most girls in my school went after. And since he was hot—and they were skanks—there was no doubt in my mind that they'd attack him, and then befriend me as an attempt to get closer to him. That just means more problems for me, and I wouldn't have it!
“Why wouldn't I be serious? Do you now want me there?”
“Um, no?” I shuddered at the thought and looked away from him. “It's going to be like. . . Attack of the Living Sluts when you get there. Since they're going to know we're related, they're not going to hesitate to come after me to get to you.” He didn't seem to understand so I went further into my explanation. “I don't want your trash coming after me so they can get inside your pants. You can whore around all you want, but I don't want to be brought into any of it.”
He rolled his eyes at my comment and stopped at the red light that was in front of us. “It's good that people know we're related. It gives them all the more reason to stay off your bad side—thus getting rid of all of the drama.”
“You're only saying that because you want to see how hot the girls have gotten since you were a freshmen. . .”
“OK, you caught me.” See what I mean? “But seriously, I'm just trying to look out for you. Last time I checked, there was nothing wrong with being protective of my baby sister.” When I didn't say anything, he took it upon himself to turn on the radio and he forced me to listen to some rap group I've never heard of before. The main aspect of what they were saying was that they were getting money, slapping people with their guns and showing off their cars. Not all rap was like that, but this particular group was, and I couldn't stand it.
When the school finally came into view, I thanked him for the ride and walked over to the front of the school where my best friend Andrew was waiting for me. He noticed that I had gotten out of the car, quickly followed by my brother, and he frowned. “Are you cheating on me, Adri?”
Gasping, I shook my head, trying my hardest not to smile. “Never, babe.”
He smiled that innocent smile of his and quickly pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back and couldn't keep the smile off of my face. Andrew and I never had much of a romantic relationship, but we've been friends for as long as I could remember, so the flirty behavior was pretty much expected. We made sure we never fell for each other and risked the friendship, and for the past sixteen years of my life, it's been working out pretty well. And besides, I'm not his type anyway; he likes guys. He was one of my only gay friends, but he sure played off the womanizer role pretty well. Going to school where we did gave him a lot of time to study—checking out guys in the process—and it showed him a thing or two of how to play the roll of a straight guy. When we were alone though, that was a completely different story. It was almost like there really were two girls in the room!
“Tell me, shorty,” he said once we pulled away, “who's the cutie who gave you the ride? I sure wouldn't mind getting a piece of that.”
I couldn't help but laugh at him, and I'd laugh even harder when he got the news that the 'cutie' was my older brother who used to bully him all the time when we were kids. But who knows; things change, right? “Um, that's Trace.”
He looked at me with an all too serious face and then back up at my brother. “Trace who? Trace Hitch? As in your older brother from Hell?” I bit my lip and watched as his facial expression changed from lustful to shocked. “He sure as hell grew up, hasn't he.”
I shrugged, not really caring or wanting to go down this road with him. Sure, it had been funny at first, but when I remembered how he would check out guys as if it was his born right to do so, I shuddered and tried to keep him from looking over there, and making myself from showing any real interest in the topic of conversation. “I guess.”
“You guess?” He looked at me as if I had three eyeballs and rolled his eyes. “His muscles are bigger, his entire demeanor screams 'attack me' and I'm pretty sure his package-”
“-I'm not having this conversation about my brother!”
Almost all too quickly, I heard the sound of footsteps running in my direction and before I knew what was happening, Andrew was pinned against the door and all but begging my brother to let him go. I sighed and grabbed Trace by the hair, forcing him to look at me and I quickly glared. “Let. Him. Go.”
“But he made you scream-”
“-he's my best friend, you dumb ass, now let him go!”
Looking from me to Andrew, he let go of him and I watched as he gasped on the floor for air. I thought he was being over dramatic, but when I saw the red marks on his neck from where Trace had grabbed him, I gasped and bent down to help him. “Ohmigod, are you OK?” He opened his mouth to answer, but the only thing that came out was a hoarse 'yeah' and he started coughing again. Before he choked to death, I reached into my book bag and gave him the water bottle I brought for lunch, sending my brother a quick glare. “Are you just going to attack every guy I talk to?”
“I thought he was hurting you. . .”
“How?!” Annoyance all but dripped from my voice.
Not knowing how to answer, he went with his previous answer. “I saw an annoyed look on your face, and a hug that lasted way too long! Plus, you screamed and-”
“-you should have asked first. You know as well as I do that Andrew wouldn't do a thing to hurt me.” A look of realization crossed his face and I watched as he took in all of Andrew's features; most likely comparing them to the last time he saw him. When he caught me staring, I gave him my best poker face. “Surprised that I'm still friends with him?”
“Surprised that thisused to be that little brat who lived next door!”
“Hey!” Andrew said once he regained enough strength in his throat, “I'm not a brat, and I don't necessarily appreciate you calling me one, either. Also,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “I still live next door. It's not a 'used to' just yet.”
Trace rolled his eyes. “Now you're talking like a chick? We need to man you up a bit; Friday night at my place, we're going to have a guys night. Just you and me, and no, you can't decline.” I was going to say that wasn't a good idea, but Andrew beat me to it and accepted the invitation. There were several things wrong with it though: One, Trace's 'place' was myhouse and his room was myroom. Two, Andrew was gay and wanted to see every inch of my brothers body. Three, my brother—as far as I knew—wasn't gay and he'd totally kill Andrew if he tried anything. These were all things that no one took into account but me—and I wasn't even invited to this so called 'Guys Night'.
I had just opened my mouth to say something when someone beat me to it. “Well, what do we have here? A new student, I'm guessing?”
Trace, Andrew and I looked up to reveal none other than Christina Gilbert staring down at us. Her blonde hair was waving in the wind, her skirt (barely) covered her essentials, and her hungry eyes scanned my brothers body as if her life depended on it. How she wasn't freezing cold in this December weather was completely beyond me, but I didn't really care for her welfare. If she wanted to whore it up, who was I to stop her?
Andrew, now gaining his voice back, spoke before I had gotten the chance to, but I didn't mind. That was just going to make this confrontation of ours all the more interesting. “Wow Adri, look was the slut train dragged in.”
I grinned at him. “I didn't know that they delivered their trash in front of the school. Who would have thought?”
Narrowing her blue eyes, she moved closer to me, causing me to stand up and get in her face. Even with her heals, we were the same height and she didn't intimidate me. “What was that? Last time I checked the flea market was on the other side of town.”
Laughing—sarcastically of course—I moved closer to her and prepared myself for one of her low blows. “Hey Andrew?”
“Yeah babe?”
“Did you read that article in the paper about the circus losing one of their monkeys?”
He laughed, way harder than he should have, but continued on and answered me anyway, making me feel like I was on top of the world. Insulting Christina wasn't the main thing I did everyday, not to her face anyway, so whenever I got the chance, I took it. And Andrew was always there to make sure he got to see the show. “What about it?”
“I think I just found it. Itmust have woke up in a barrel of non-matching make up.”
Letting out an unattractive snort, she raised her hand to hit me, but was quickly stopped by my brother. They stared each other down for a while, like they were exchanging some kind of secret message, but when he narrowed his eyes, I knew that he was probably just threatening her the same way he did to me. “You really don't want to do that.”
Staring from Trace and back to me, she pulled her hand away and flipped her hair. “Whatever, there are way cuter guys anyway.”
As she walked away, I grinned. “None of which who want your herpes!”
Flipping me off, I smiled and watched as she walked inside the school. I couldn't help but laugh at Trace's reaction, but this is what happened when I didn't get enough sleep.