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Same Shit, Different House
"Damn it, Lyndon. Where'd you put my weed?"
The angry words of my brother are immediately followed with the motion of my door swinging open, door knob slamming harshly into the wall. Annoyance floods me right after, the sight of Noah's face raising it higher.
"Hello, watch the wall! We haven't even been here a whole day and you already wanna wreck shit?"
He ignores my words, choosing to storm past my sitting form on the floor and start ransacking the room. I don't particularly care for the place. I can't even find it in myself to call it mine, no matter how nice it is. Mom gave me the biggest room out of us all, saying she hoped it would make me less angry about moving, but I suspect she offered it to Knox first and he declined.
As Noah shuffles around the room with his dirty sneakers, I keep my mouth shut, not caring for the rug, but the minute he starts ripping open previously sealed boxes and throwing my clothes on the floor, I snap.
"What the fuck?" I shout, reaching for the nearest object and chucking it his way.
He dodges the hairbrush, barely, and turns around, scowl present on his face. "The weed, Lyndon," he seethes.
I merely shrug my shoulders, trying to remain nonchalant, though it's hard to do when I just want to laugh at his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Total lie. I have it hidden somewhere he'll never find, having made it my mission to find a hiding spot before unpacking a single box of mine.
While Mom and the boys took a tour of the place, I decided to go my own way, hoping to find some clue as to why we moved back. It seems dumb to think Dad would have left something like that out in plain sight, but I was desperate. I don't want to be here, and I don't want to see him. Finding any piece of information that can get us back to Florida is my only hope.
Dad won't be back for another day, conveniently going away for business the weekend we arrive. Maybe he's avoiding me, just as I'm avoiding him. Mom did always say we were most alike.
God, what a fucking insult that is.
But, if that's true and we are alike, than anything he's done wrong that caused Mom to follow him here won't be lying around the house. He'd have taken care of it, he wouldn't allow someone else to find out and have the opportunity to hold it over his head.
I'm dragged away from my hatred for my father by a force, and it takes me two seconds to realize Noah's thrown the hairbrush back at me. It takes me three seconds to jump up from the floor and tackle him to the ground.
The element of surprise helps me accomplish taking him down, but the moment he's not caught off guard, I know I'm dead. After letting his head hit the box behind him, I push off of him and run out of the room.
Unfortunately, I run right into Knox, forehead coming right into contact with his boney chin.
"Ow!" I squeal, having not expected someone to be standing right outside my door. Definitely wouldn't have been running so fucking fast. "Why were you in my way?"
He rubs his chin, before shoving my shoulder, sending me a few steps back. "I was walking down the hallway, just minding my business, as usual. Why were you running like a child?"
You'd think Knox was the older one with the way he speaks to me, well, tries speaking to me.
"Excuse me?" I draw out, pulling my head back. "I'm the child here? Not the grown ass fourteen year old who insists on having his mommy scratch his back when he's tired?"
He rolls his crystal blue eyes, annoyance flooding his face, looking eerily similar to my father, Noah, and myself in that moment. I'm not sure if it's the unnatural, almost white eye color we all carry or the fact that we actually do look alike, but anyone could tell we're all Prince's whenever us four are pissed off. Sometimes it seems as if Dad freaking cloned us in a laboratory and just asked Mom to raise us, because we look nothing like that woman.
My shoulder is gripped extremely hard behind me, and I know it's Noah. Mom wouldn't try manhandling me like that.
"Oh, look who's risen from his nappy. What do you want, NoNo?"
Clearly, he wants his weed, but he won't dare say anything about it in front of Saint Knox. The side-look he gives me shows that. He opens his mouth and then closes it, realizing it's best to just shut up—for once.
He releases my shoulder and brings up his other hand, showing me my phone... my unlocked phone. Oh hell no.
Of course I reach for it and he pulls it away, taking advantage of the few inches of height he has on me and raising it above his head.
"Come on, don't be a dick!" I say while stupidly jumping for the phone.
"I think you know what kind of payment I'll take for the phone back," he says with a wink.
Knox makes a disgusted face. "That sounded kinky."
"If you think that was kinky then you got a lot of pent up tension you need to let out, baby bro. My laptop's sitting on my bed. History hasn't been cleared yet. Go," Noah says, motioning with his hand down the hall, where I assume his room is. I'm still not sure which room's they claimed.
I stop jumping, turning my head and pretending to gag, because what the fuck, I did not need to know any of that.
"You're gross," I say to Noah, as Knox shakes his head and, thankfully, walks toward the opposite direction. Probably going to his mommy.
Noah lets out an immature laugh, clearly pleased with how easy it is for him to disgust his siblings. I take his stupidity as my opportunity to lunge for the phone, successfully clawing it out of his hands.
"Damn, Lynnie. You didn't need to fucking draw blood!" He whines.
"My nails aren't even that long," I state with an eye roll, annoyed with his exaggeration. He could be such a drama queen sometimes.
He takes one last look at his hand, that most certainly is not bleeding, then does a double take down the hallway before reaching his arms out and pushing me into the nearest room.
I look around, embarrassed at how long it's taking me to realize we're in my room.
"Is there something you'd like to return to me, Lynnie?" Noah asks, crossing his arms over his chest, a motion he only makes when trying to come off as intimidating. It always worked with the guys back at Beach Way, but never on me. Noah is as harmless as a ladybug in my eyes. Even if he could beat me in a fist fight, I know he never would.
Besides, how could I be intimidated by him when he calls me Lynnie, the nickname given to me when we were younger because his dumbass couldn't properly pronounce Lyndon. Instead of my parents correcting him, they found it cute that he started calling me a name close to an animated mouse. Our other family members thought it was such an adorable representation of our closeness, when really, I had wanted to smack him whenever he called me it.
Thank God Knox was always so articulate.
"Nah," I finally say back to him, then motion with my hands around the room. "Now, unless you wanna help unpack my shit, I suggest you get out of here."
He nods his head a few times. "I see how it is," he mumbles, turning towards the door.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Dealing with Noah feels like a workout.
"Oh, by the way," he says, turning back around. Fuck my life, he's so annoying. "You might wanna call Liam."
My eyes narrow. "Why?"
"Jessica blew up your phone, saying how urgent it is that you speak to Liam," he says slowly, enjoying the way my eyes flicker to my phone, panicked. "She texted you seven times privately, and four times in your group chat."
Noah's known for exaggerating a lot of things, and this is sadly not one of those times. I have read messages—thanks to his nosey self—from Jessica, stressing how important it is that I answer her. And yes, she did use the word urgent, something not normally in her vocabulary.
I mentally debate who to call first once Noah leaves. Jessica, since she was the one blowing up my phone, or Liam, since she keeps mentioning his name. There's also the option of calling Bea, she's in the group chat too, but hasn't responded either. I usually trust her more, as Jessica tends to make things sound worse than they actually are.
I make up my mind and call Liam, seeing as he is my boyfriend, and if something's wrong with him, he should be the one telling me, not Jessica.
The phone rings, and then goes to voicemail. I remain calm, as Liam isn't the type to constantly check his phone, but he had just posted some photos on social media right before Noah came in and interrupted my day. I call one more time, just to give myself piece of mind that he's okay, but he doesn't answer. I refuse to call again, two unanswered calls is already too many in my opinion. I sigh deeply before calling Jessica.
She answers on the first ring.
"Lyn!" She shouts from the other line, causing me to pull the phone away from my ear and lower the volume as she continues yelling. "Where the fuck are you?"
"New York," I respond, emotionless.
"Duh, I know that, I mean where were you while I was texting! I said it was urgent!"
"Yeah, I know," I say while moving around the room, already expecting this conversation to go nowhere. "I was unpacking."
"Aw, you sound so sad, Lyn," she coos.
That's because I am sad, Jess. And angry, so so angry.
"I'm not," I say with a fake laugh. "I'm just tired from the flight and doing all of this work."
I look around the room at my closed boxes, knowing I haven't touched a damn thing or moved from my spot on the floor for the three hours we've been in this house. It doesn't feel like home, and I won't ever let it.
She hums, but doesn't say anything else. "So, what was so urgent?"
"Oh!" She shouts, again, as if she just remembered what was so important. "Tomorrow's the senior kick-back party!"
I tighten my hold on the phone. That's what she wanted to tell me? That the biggest party of the year, the party she, I, and Bea have been dying to go to ever since freshman year, is tomorrow? As if I needed a reminder. I had been counting down the fucking days, and now, I'm missing it.
She must notice my silence, or maybe the anger and sadness in me is finally reaching her over the phone, speaking louder than my voice ever could.
"Lyn," she says softly, and somehow, it eases my anger slightly. It usually does. Jessica's kind of an airhead and sometimes annoying, but she's always been my safe place. Bea gets my odd humor and is down to do any stupid idea I suggest, but Jess has always been the calming force in the group. Bea is honest and brash, while Jess is sweet and caring. Total opposites, but work perfectly as my best friends.
"I wish I was going," I whisper.
"We wish you were too. Liam's super depressed about it," she responds.
My ears perk up at his name. "Liam said that to you?"
She murmurs a yes and I'm shocked for a second. Shocked that he actually said that, and shocked he'd say it to Jess. She is an easy person to confess your darkest secrets too, but I never remember them being so close. Bea hung out with us and third-wheeled so much—much more than Jess ever did.
"We should FaceTime for the party," she suddenly says.
"Jess, I don't—"
"No, please! This was what we were waiting for, let's not let a few states between us ruin it!"
I bite my tongue, and think it over for a while. Seeing them all together, having fun will just make me more depressed, but if my plan works and I somehow get to transfer back, then at least I won't be missing anything.
"Sure, just text me before you call, so I'm party ready," I joke.
Just as she's ready to say something else, I get another call. It's Liam.
"I gotta go, Jess. We'll talk later, okay?"
"Okay. Bye, Lyn. Love you!"
I quickly tell her love you too and answer the other line.
"Oh, hello boyfriend who doesn't answer when I call," I greet.
"No, please don't do this, babe. Not when I can't just come over and tell if you're actually mad or not," he mumbles, voice sounding groggy.
I smile. "I definitely won't miss the days when you'd just show up out of nowhere."
He laughs lightly, instantly relaxing me. "Out of nowhere? You make me sound like a stalker, when you know damn well I'd only come over uninvited when you were pissed off and ignoring me."
I crawl onto my bed and lay down, testing out the mattress for the first time. I don't know if it's the plush or Liam's voice, but I'm finally comfortable. "Some people would classify you coming to my house when I don't want to see you as stalking, or at least harassing."
"I call it making sure my girlfriend isn't going to sleep angry at me, or thinking for one second that she's not loved."
"Mm, smooth like butter. If I didn't miss you before, I definitely am missing you now."
"I really miss you," he says.
"I'm sure you do. It's already been forty-eight hours since we last saw each other. How are you surviving?"
"Forty-eight hours since your mother whisked you away in the middle of the night," he says while laughing.
"Kidnapped, you mean. The bitch kidnapped me," I correct.
"Lyn," he reprimands me. "God, I hope those walls aren't thin over there and she hears. You'll never be able to talk to me again."
"This house isn't as big as the other, but that doesn't mean my father would settle for anything less. With the prices out here I'm sure he paid much more for this place than he has for any other home in his life."
"The man works hard for his money, might as well spend it," he says over noises in the background that indicate he's moving around.
"He's spending it, alright," I say dryly. "Paying for, as my mother says, the absolute greatest private school on the East coast for us to attend, because he cares so much about our education. Bull-fucking-shit."
I hear draws opening and slamming, then a door being opened. "I'm guessing you're not excited to go to school with all the preppy, rich kids?"
"I wish you could see my face right now so you'd know how stupid what you just said is. And what the fuck is all that noise? You can't focus on me for more than two minutes, Li?" I say jokingly, but I'm not entirely joking.
"Sorry, sorry," he responds, not sounding too apologetic though. "I took a quick nap and forgot I was supposed to meet up with the guys. I'm about to go shower."
I stay quiet, feeling weird knowing he's going to hang out with his friends—people I consider my friends too—and I won't be there. I won't be with the girls, and we won't end up meeting each other somewhere and combining our groups, laughing as we try playing matchmaker with Jess and one of the single guys.
"I mean it though, I miss you, Lyn," he reiterates, probably worried I'm mad at him.
But I'm not mad at him, well, I'm not mad at him for being distracted or going out. I'm mad at him for being able to do that, while I know no one here and just want to go home. I want to lay in my real bed, and go out with my friends, and then end the night in Liam's arms.
"And I miss you," I say lowly, but for some reason, the words feel like a lie. I don't feel like it's him I'm missing in this moment, it's Florida. It's Beach Way and everyone there.
We end the call shortly after that, seeing as Liam has plans to go out and I have plans to cry myself to sleep. Just as I'm getting my laptop out in hopes of the perfect rom-com to cry too, my door opens, and it's my Mom.
Great, one of the last people I want to see right now.
"Hey, honey," she says while slowly closing the door behind her and inching into the room.
"What's up?" I ask, not really wanting to talk. I'm upset at being here all over again, so she's not the best person to be starting a conversation with seeing as it's partly her fault.
"I was just wondering how you're settling in," she says with a small smile.
Oh wow, she really has the nerve to wonder?
"Horribly," I respond. "I am settling in horribly. And you?"
Her smile drops, sadness enveloping her face. "That's not what I wanted to hear."
"Then why'd you ask?"
She closes her eyes and takes a breath, clearly trying to find the patience to deal with me. I don't know why she's stressing herself out. No one asked her to come here, I certainly didn't. I purposely went straight to this room once we arrived and haven't left since. If that's not a sign telling her to leave me the fuck alone, then I don't know what much more else I can do besides saying the words to her face.
"Give it a chance, will you?" Her words sound strained. Again, not sure why she's killing herself over this.
"I could, but it won't change anything," I smile at her, showing my pearly whites and all.
My smile does nothing to ease her. I knew it wouldn't.
"School starts next Thursday," she comments, before turning around.
"Wait, what? Why so late?"
She faces me again, and actually looks happy to see me finally interested in this conversation. "New York starts later than Florida, and it ends later."
My shoulders drop. So I'm supposed to sit in this house for a whole week doing nothing? That's more time to run into Dad, someone I'd rather avoid like the damn plague.
"What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy to not start right away."
"Yes Mom, super happy to sit around the house all day doing nothing, because I have no friends here." I give her another sarcastic smile, and this time, I'm rewarded with a scowl from her.
Ooh, is this the part where we finally argue?
"Well, maybe stop acting like a spoilt brat and go get a damn job."
Her words shock herself, but not me. I know she'd love if I worked, it'd get me out of the house and spend less time irritating her, but Dad won't allow it. Noah and I tried getting summer jobs a few years ago like our friends did, but he immediately shut it down, claiming he was the provider. He said he worked hard so we wouldn't have too, and that was the end of that.
Just as I open my mouth, ready to remind her of what her husband said, she talks over me. "Actually, there's something else you can do with your time. Go visit your cousin."
My face scrunches in confusion. My cousin?
"Malia," she emphasizes, rolling her eyes and taking a seat at the edge of my bed.
Um, who invited her to stay?
I shake my head and refocus. Malia? Then my mouth drops.
"Oh my gosh, I forgot all about Malia," I comment out loud, shocked at how I could forget someone who was once my favorite person in the world.
"Yes, Malia. Your childhood obsession," she teases.
"Alright, I wouldn't say she was my obsession," I defend myself, but Mom's having none of it.
"Lyndon Alessandra Prince, don't even try to deny it. You were obsessed with that girl. Everything she had, you wanted. Everything she did, you wanted to do. You copied her clothes, the way she talked, even the damn way she walked." Mom's now hysterically laughing as she travels down memory lane.
I roll my eyes and tap her to get her attention. "Are you done?"
She still laughs, reaching to grab my hand and shake me. "I remember when you even told people you were the same race as her. Oh God, that was so funny."
"What? Mom, stop," I say, getting a little embarrassed.
"Lyndon, you did. You told people you were Puerto Rican and Pakistani. A beautiful, unique mix, yes, but certainly not what you are," she says, barely containing her laughter enough to get the words out.
I pull my hand from her grasp. "Yes, I certainly am not. You made sure of that."
She contains her laugh long enough to assess me. "What? Are you bitter that you're half white?"
"No, not bitter about being half white, just bitter about being a Prince."
Now it's my turn to contain my laughter as she sobers up, the joking atmosphere in the air disintegrating as she frowns, looking similar to the way she did when she first came in here.
"Pequeña mierda," she mumbles as she gets off the bed and walks out the room.
"Hey!" I shout after her in fake offense. "I may not know a lot of Spanish, but I definitely know you just called me a little shit!"
She's already gone, clearly not caring if I understood her or not.
A weird feeling comes once she's gone as I get up to close the door. Once upon a time, Mom and I were close, well closer than we are now. Knox was always the clear favorite, something that hurt me, considering we were the only girls in the house and should have been the closest. But still, I always preferred her over Dad, mainly because she was around more. Now, I don't prefer her over him. I don't prefer either. I have such a strong dislike for both of them that it's almost scary. Who knew it was possible to feel this way about your own damn parents?
I look to the spot where she had sat on the bed, and notice a piece of paper. I hadn't even seen when she left it there.
It's a phone number, and it doesn't take rocket science to figure out it's Malia's.
Should I text her? Or is that too awkward? We haven't talked in years. I barely remember what she looks like.
Okay, that's a lie. I remember extremely well how perfect she was. While I was lanky and tall and awkward in every possible way, Malia was always perfectly proportioned, and she knew it. Even at the age of ten the girl had already known how to command an entire room with just her body language, and it both amazed and annoyed me. I envied her, yet looked up to her in so many ways.
Moving to Florida after fifth grade was hard, and a major reason for that was because I was losing her. She was my best friend, idol, and nemesis all wrapped into one.
We said we'd call and text all the time, but that promise died the minute I landed in Florida. We talked maybe once a week on the phone up until middle school started. Last I heard of Malia, she was attending her mother's wedding to one of the wealthiest men from one of the greatest companies in New York. She changed her last name, transferred schools, got a new house, and gained a whole new family.
She upgraded, while I gained a simple life in Florida. Both without each other.
Now I'm entering her territory. Dad's sending us to Arlin Preparatory High School, the school Malia's been attending since ninth grade. Technically, she's been in this system and with—as Liam said—these preppy, rich kids since sixth grade.
Suddenly, I feel like an intruder. I hadn't even thought about the life she already created here. The thing that eased my worries of starting a new school during senior year—other than knowing Noah will be there too—is that I was at least starting fresh. I wasn't going back to the public school I left seven years ago. I was meeting new faces and making new friends, but now, I'm going to Malia's world.
If she's anything like the little girl I knew years ago, then we'll be fine. But if being around rich kids has changed her, if becoming one of the rich kids herself has mended her into another person entirely, then I don't know how we'll co-exist.
I guess the first step to dealing with this is by talking to her. And it's much wiser to speak with her before school. So, I text her.
hi Malia. this is Lyndon... your cousin. my mom gave me your number. i don't know if you know but i'm living in NY again & going to Arlin Preparatory for this school year. i was wondering how you've been? it's been so long since we talked.
I hit send and feel my stomach drop. What a stupid ass text. I don't know if you know? Come on Lyndon, what the fuck. She's gonna think I'm an idiot and never respond and have me exiled to the loser table in the fucking cafeteria and—
Holy shit, she's calling me.
"Hel—Hello?"