There is no true definition of disaster.
Not even when you come home from a friend's house one summer night, thinking everything is completely normal, when your single-since-you-can-remember father decides then to tell you he's planning to marry one of his coworkers in only five months.
Not even when you meet said coworker the next day, and it turns out that said coworker has a son, a teenage boy a mere six months younger than you, whom you will be sharing a house with in only three months.
Not even when you are paired up with said coworker's son for a Chemistry project, which happens to be the one course you're currently failing and he's taking a year early because he's some kind of kid genius. Awkward.
Not even when you actually move into said coworker's house, a far ways away from your hometown in quiet, peaceful Pennsylvania to a snobby rich suburb in New York...only to learn you have to share a tiny bedroom with said coworker's son, who is, as mentioned before, almost the same age as you and a boy.
All in all, after eighteen years of nasty surprise-after-surprise, you could say I was prepared for anything.
Well, almost everything.
My day started out normal, at least. On days like today, it nearly always does, so I really don't know how I missed all the warning signs.
So, after suffering through seven periods of nonstop lectures on homework, homework, and more homework, at the end of the torturous school day I finally am able to grab all my textbooks from my locker and dash out of the old brick building, not daring to look back.
Taking my usual shortcut, as my skateboard rolls across the black pavement, I can't help but sigh out of relief.
It's finally the weekend.
Finally.
Words cannot describe how much I look forward to the weekend. Long days and long nights of nonstop music, relaxation, and exploring? Sign me up.
I've never been a particularly outgoing, social person; but I have to admit I'm a sucker for outdoors. Even if it's just for a little while, breathing clean, fresh, unconditioned air helps wake me up and rejuvenate me in ways no artificial device ever could.
While every girl my age is obsessing over prom dates, five-hundred-dollar dresses, and university, I could care less about that. All I care about is music, my few friends, skateboarding, and the nature that surrounds me.
I mean, what else could you ask for? The unaltered features of our planet are often the best ones.
I give the gravely ground another push as the wheels of my board continue to roll down the road, and I feel my speed begin to accelerate. The hill is coming up soon; it shouldn't be too long before I don't have to physically give my board any momentum. Gravity takes care of that on its own.
Finally reaching the steep road, I steady myself on the body and focus only on the speed at which I'm traveling, the many curves of the road, and the momentum I'm getting.
It's the perfect combination for a kickflip, which I execute perfectly before curving to a stop before the small house on the corner, my father's coworker's/fiance's.
I tug at my beanie, readjusting it so that it's no longer sitting crooked upon my brunette waves but more perfectly perched. My hair is really temperamental and always gets tangled up after doing a trick, but I love it anyways.
On the other hand, my step-mother, Anne, would definitely kill me if my hair was too messy or if I took my skateboard into the house. So I leave my board by the garage, kicking my Converse off and shoving them into one of the overcrowded cubbies.
"Kaci Allison, where were you?"
Literally the moment I walk through the door my father is already yelling at me. He sits at the counter, reading the paper, as if he's just casually waiting for me to come home; which, apparently, isn't the case today.
"I'm-I'm sorry?" I croak, unsure of what I've done wrong. I'm home at regular time; hell, I came right from school with absolutely no detours. Why is he so angry?
But he's already moved on from me like it's nothing, as predicted. "Where's your brother?"
"I-I don't have a brother." I reply quietly, deciding it best not to retort back. I know who he's referring to, but I'd rather not address him as my brother. It's just too weird to think about.
As predicted, my father grits his teeth when he responds. "Fine. Okay. Step-brother. Ashton. Where is Ashton?"
My heartbeat suddenly stops. Shit.
I totally forgot that I was supposed to pick up Ashton from his band practice.
"Shit." I accidentally curse out loud, mostly to myself. Why can't I ever seem to get my shit together? "I was supposed to pick him up, wasn't I?"
"Language!" He scolds me at once, I can't help but roll my eyes. "And take your mother's car- the moment you get home we're leaving."
"Wait, leaving?"
My father gives me a strange look. "Yeah. We're driving up to Canyon Park, remember?"
"That's today?" I nearly yelp, mentally face-palming. It's bad enough that my father decided to break our tradition-our tradition, as in my father and I's-to invite Ashton and Anne on this Labor Day weekend camping trip, but now this?
How could I have forgotten the family camping trip?
My gaze immediately jumps to the refrigerator, scanning for any marks or reminder to symbolize the importance of today.
Right. That evil witch erased my agenda from the whiteboard, stating that it "wasn't professional-looking." My step-mother, Anne, with her fancy, non-Eco-friendly clothes and mile-long shopping lists. Great.
But, God. I can't believe I forgot.
No wonder he looks like he's going to murder me.
I mutter an apology to my father and quickly scurry out of the kitchen, grabbing the keys and my Converse. The moment they are slipped on my feet, I jump into the car and start the engine.
And yet I face another problem.
I forgot to ask where I'm even going.
Sure, Dad, of course, send the one family member who doesn't know her way around New York to navigate. Just perfect.
I remember vaguely Ashton saying that band practice is always at this guy Luke's house, so I quickly search the GPA database for any Lukes.
And to my luck, there are about a million Lukes programmed into the system. Figures, as Ashton is apparently insanely popular in the 11th grade; a far cry from myself, who's at the way bottom of the social ladder of 12th.
Luckily, I recognize Lukes A and O right off the bat as being Anne's friends, Lukes G and I as Irwin family members, and Lukes F, K, and N as out of state, which leaves one Luke.
Luke H.
Thank God.
I start the engine, cringing as I hear the motor starting up. I absolutely hate cars and their fumes. Just the thought of pollution makes me feel sick, and yet here I am in New York (the suburb) and surrounded by pollution at every turn.
Soon I find myself in front of a tan-colored home with an Australian flag hanging from a window. Weird, considering that we're in the middle of New York state. It wouldn't be that unusual had we been somewhere near the coast like California, but of course we just have to be in New York.
I don't have to wait long for Ashton, who is climbing in the passenger's seat faster than I can even process.
"Hi, Kaci!" Ashton's dimples appear as he shoots me a wide smile. "I didn't know you were picking me up."
"Yeah, well, neither did I." I flash a fake smile, shifting gears and preparing to pull out of the spot. "You ready to go?"
"Wait, we have to wait for Luke." Ashton stops me, I internally groan. I don't even know who Luke is, but I do know that we don't have any time to wait, not for anyone.
"Luke?" I can't help but ask. "Why?"
He gives me a mixed glance. "You know he's coming with us, right?"
My eyebrows furrow. "Why would he come with us? Isn't this his house?"
"Well, yeah, but..." Ashton sounds as confused as I am replying. "Wait, no, I mean he's coming with us. On the camping trip. His parents are going out of town for the weekend, so Dad--I mean, your dad--offered to let him come with us. And, um... Some of my other friends might be coming too. I'm not really sure yet."
I stay silent, simply nodding along. Great.
It's nothing against Ashton's friends, whoever they are, but I just despise talking to strangers and socializing in general. It's bad enough my father is making me go on this "new" family camping trip, but now I have to put up with Ashton's annoying friends, too?
Now that I think of it, of course my father would let Ashton bend the rules. He's always concerned about Ashton, Ashton's well-being, and Ashton's happiness. I bet he would take a bullet for him, matter of fact. He would never do that for me.
I shift in my seat, my foot hovering over the pedals. So close, but so far away.
"What are you thinking about?" Ashton's voice rings out, I jump and turn to face him.
"Oh, um. Nothing..." I murmur; he continues to stare at me. "Don't worry about it."
Ashton doesn't buy it. "Are you sure? You look really-hey, there's Luke!"
I look up to see a tall, blonde boy with a grey backpack and black Vans suddenly emerges from the home, a Red Bull can gripped in his right hand and his cell phone clutched in his left. As he approaches the car, I can't help but catch his blue eyes, staring back at me with the same intensity.
Wait. He's in my grade, not Ashton's.
I actually know him.
Scratch that. Everyone knows him.
It's Luke. Who wouldn't know him, especially me?
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and focus my gaze on the road rather than on the boy in the backseat giving me the negativity I was trying to get away for the weekend.
Now, shoving that idiot and I in the same car for a four-hour drive, that's a disaster. A train-wreck just waiting to happen, even.
Because, as it turns out, I don't just know Luke Hemmings.
I happen to hate him.