Author: untitled furniture PM
Dear Dr. Phil, how do you get over a guy who would never want you? Wait, scratch that. How do you get over a guy who's your step brother? No answers? You're useless. Where’s Oprah when you need her? CompletedRated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 27 - Words: 109,016 - Reviews: 808 - Favs: 319 - Follows: 44 - Updated: 12-03-06 - Published: 09-03-05 - id: 1999844
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Ch 1:Re-placeable or Un- replaceable
Summary: My life is just great, I'm already failing math, I really hate my step brother's girlfriend. I don't know if this real hot guy is a cool guy or a fake. To top it all off I am now falling for my step brother, it can't get better than this, or can it?
Anyways it all started when my dad died in a car accident, my parents got divorced when I was 11 so I was left all alone. Of course I cried when he died (who wouldn't?), I through a tantrum more then thousand times, until I decided I wasn't going to cry anymore. Crying shows a sign of weakness, and I hate being weak more than anything. I might sound like one of those head cases, but I'm not. Or am I….
Well during that painful year I was stuck at my Aunt Susan's house. I hated the thought of moving in with my mom, since she's remarried to a guy named Harold. Yes his name is Harold, what kind of name is Harold? It sounds like a farmers name, and everyone knows I am not going anywhere near a farm.
Living with my Aunt Susan was the worst year of my life. I never new my aunt Susan was such a slut. She brought different guys over every weekend, and they had sex every time. I am not kidding every fucking weekend; did they really think I could sleep through all of that?
You must be saying in your head; who gives a rats ass about her sex life, just because you're not getting any don't run on her parade or however you say it….
But you would complain to, if you saw a new person every weekend waking up every Sunday eating up all the eggs. Even If I hate eggs more than anything, (who wants to eat something coming out a chicken's ass) but still what If I'm about to starve to death, those eggs might come in handy someday.
A year later I had enough of my Aunt Susan, she leaves beer all over the counter and she never cleans up. If my mom knew how I was living she would have had an outrage. See she doesn't really like Susan; Susan is lucky to be on my dad side of the family. Considering my mom grew up from the Christian side.
Christian families do not necessarily loose their virginity when their 14. Once again I am not lying; my Aunt Susan lost her virginity when she was 14. I asked her, she was even shocked that I didn't, since she always going on how pretty I am, and how I never notice. She must be smoking the pipe. Me pretty? I think not.
I have black mousy hair that curls at the end no matter how hard I try to straighten it, tan skin that matches my striking green eyes. Red rose colored cheeks that always do well to embarrass me at the perfect moment. I'm 5'4, that's short in my school everyone is at least over six feet...including the girls.
So, you can see what I've been going through the last couple of months, so one day I called my mom and asked her if I could move in. Well I didn't actually put it in those words; I didn't want her to think that I wanted to move to California.
I live in New York and my mom lives in California, in a little town called Petersburg, so I had to sit for hours on a plane...god I hate planes.
I quickly walked down the steps to the pick up area of the airport, seeing cars lined up to drop off and pick up their family members. I walked over to a bench that was against the airport wall with my blue and black bags wheels squeaking behind my every footstep. I sat down slowly eyeing everyone who walked out of their cars, to pick up their guest.
I have no idea what car my mom was taking, because I have no idea what car she has. I haven't seen her in three year, unless your counting my dad's funeral than it's a year. It's not her fault she hasn't seen me, its hundred percent my choice. I decided to stop talking to her when I heard she got remarried.
I didn't even go to her wedding; I know what a selfish thing to do. But she deserved it, remarrying three years after getting divorced. Have you ever heard of getting out of the date lane?
I felt a stab of jealousy shot threw me, as I saw this little girl with a pink dress and a light blue jean jacket, blonde hair and brown eyes, run out to her dad while he was exiting the airport.
Oh stop being a baby Stacie; you cannot cry over the littlest things that reminds you about your past memories. "Daddy!" said the little blonde girl with her mom on her tail.
"Hey honey, you missed me." Her dad said, he was wearing a business suit and was carry more than three bags so he couldn't bend down to hug her.
The little girl reminded me of me when I was little, maybe five or six and my mom and I would pick up my dad from the airport also. He was a lawyer so he had to move around a lot, its one of the main reason they had a divorce.
"God its cold," I muttered to my self, trying to tune out their little reunion. I was wearing a plain black sleeveless shirt and a pear of blue faded jeans with holes in the knees. My clothes were not the only thing that looked horrible on me. My hair looked like it was having a war with my face. The wind was blowing hard and the clouds was spread out so far you could predict rain.
I pushed my hair behind my ear having enough of it smacking me in the face. Where is she, isn't she supposed to be hear by now. I took a quick glance at my watch 6:37(p.m); they were supposed to be here at 6:30.
Ok seven minute late, I'm over reacting. I folded my arms to my chest to keep warm; I wish I brought a hoodie. Well I brought one its just deep, deep in my black bag, and I don't want to miss my mom passing by or something.
I sighed; it is just way to cold. I unzipped my bag and promptly started searching through it. "Excuse me miss, are you Stacie?" I looked up impatiently, my right hand still stuffed in my bag.
I saw a man he looked to be in his early forties, but attractive for his age. He was wearing a green raincoat that zips half way up his chest, blue jeans with a crease straight in the middle, and brown heavy-duty boots.
I couldn't tell if he was trying to go for the clean look, or the fishing look. His honey blonde hair also was blowing wildly from the breathtaking wind. He had this big friendly smile on his face, which brightens up his brown glamorous eyes.
"Who's asking?" I asked as politely as I could, as I was roughly zipping up my bag.
"Oh I'm sorry how rude of me. My name is Harold, Harold Jenkins." Said Harold reaching his hand out towards mine.
I looked up at him in a stunned expression, not wanting to believe that my mom sent him here to pick me up. "Umm... I'm your step dad...your mom wanted me to pick you up... she thought it would be nice for us to get to know each other." He continued, talking slowly.
I chose not to say anything and got off the bench grabbed my bags and waited impatiently. "Well.… I guess we should get going then, follow me!" Harold crossed the street and into the parking area, with me on his feet. We continued walking until we came upon a white Expedition, well I passed it, because I didn't even know it was his. He didn't look like an Expedition kind of guy.
"Stacie we're over here," he said jangling the keys. I did a quick U-turn and walked on the passenger side. It took him a while to figure out what key he was trying to find, I'd just stared at him with a confused expression.
He gave out a nervous chuckle, "Son's car." I nodded and it took a while to sink into my head, son's car.
"You have kids?" I asked anxiously. He shot me a worried look and quickly found the key and unlocked the doors. I opened the door and sat cozily on the tan leather seats.
"I'll take that," he said grabbing my bag and disappearing be hide the car.
I slammed the door and fascine my seat belt. I looked around the car, it was huge it had eight seats. Three in the back, three in the middle, and two in the front I have know idea why one person would need all theses seats.
This car was great, if this is for his son, they most be a rich family. All I know is his son better be over twenty with a beard, their is just no way my mom would bring me down here not telling me this man has kids. Just no way. Harold returned few minute later, "Whew its cold today. It's usually warm in California." He said quickly shutting his door and turning the heater on.
"Is it this cold in New York?" He said adjusting the seats so it's suitable for his long legs.
"Sometimes," I muttered. Here comes the awkward silence.
He backed up slowly until we were out of the parking space. I was right, there was a major awkward silence.
We drove in silence for a while making are way onto the highway. "So what grade are you in?" Harold said trying to start up a conversation.
"Eleventh," I said shortly. He waited for me to say something else and finally got the hint.
"Well you'll like this high school its called Rocky Lake High school. It's really nice I graduated there; well I lived here in Petersburg California all my life. Of course I've visited other place but I just can't help coming back."
"That's nice," I said dully, my eyes suddenly capturing the amazing window. I felt his eyes beaming on the back of my head, but I chose to ignore it.
"Stacie if you don't feel like calling me dad or..." He paused seeing me wince at the word." Of course you don't want to call me dad you can call me Harold. I don't want to feel like I'm replacing anyone."
Hah! You can never replace my dad, Mark Madalena, was the best man on earth! I placed my head on the window; I'm so tired woke up at 5:00a.m left at 2:00p.m and made it back 6:20. I woke up early because I forgot to pack the other day. Stupid Time zone different, I could be sound asleep by now.
That was the last thing I thought, as I drifted off to sleep.
"Stacie, we're here home sweet home." I opened my eyes slowly expecting to be in my old queen size bed at Aunt Susan's. But only to be in a Harold's car, pulled up to a two story white house with five garden gnomes sitting in the front yard.
"Are you ok?" Harold asked waiting patiently for me to step out the car.
I hopped out the car not even answering his question and ignoring his concern looks. I know I'm acting like a bitch, you would be to if you had to move in the house with the guy who supposed to be replacing your dad.
As I got out the car I took the time to analyze the house, and it sure wasn't a farm. The house was made out of wood that was painted white; there was a little porch with a wooden fence, so you couldn't have climbed over. And on the porch was a gray and white swing. The green grass looked like you could have slept on it, and the driveway looked to be Aunt Susan whole apartment.
"Here's your bags," Harold said, we both were standing side by side staring up at the house. I mutter "thank you" and snatched the bag out of his grip.
"Well lets go in," he said excitedly, and ran up the steps and opened the door, so I could enter.
For an old guy he was kind of fast. Runner I mean. I slowly walked up the steps and entered the house. I felt the warmness hit my cheeks as soon as I walked in.
People who read my other story Camp Lakewood will know whose her step brother is because I kept most of the characters.
Like Stacie, and Jesse yea I just don't feel right switching the names every time. But there not the same people, they've got totally different personality's but same looks.P.S: R/r and tell me what you think about the story no flames please. It would be better if you told me in a nice way instead of telling me how much it sucks and no reason.