ONE

"Dan, do you have to do that in here?" My mum was glancing cautiously over at my step-brother, who was sitting at the dinner table and fiddling around with a packet of cigarettes. He ignored her and continued to replace all the cigarette sticks back into the cardboard container, slowly. I looked over to see my mum sigh as she turned back to stirring the contents of the saucepan. I frowned. If that had been me she would've taken that cigarette packet and thrown it in the trash, after she had kicked me out of the house.

I turned back to look at Dan.

When my mother had told me that she was getting remarried, I'd immediately rebuked the idea. I didn't want another father. I didn't want a father period. My dad, he hadn't been a good guy. He'd died before I'd turned ten but when he was alive he was always arguing and shouting at mum. When he'd finished yelling she'd come up to my room, red and crying, and sing sad lullabies to me.

She'd introduced me to Ted Dawson five years ago when I was twelve. He'd seemed like a genuinely nice guy and I'd been happy for mum, but I hadn't thought she'd been serious. It had often happened; she'd bring home a guy and the next week he'd be gone. Three years later they'd married, and another one and a half years into our "happy" new family Dan had pushed his way in.

Ted's ex-wife, Marie, had died from some type of cancer, stranding her son whom she'd gained custody over. With no one else to look after him and still underage, Dan had been forced to move in with us.

I observed him casually as he stuffed a couple more cigarettes back in. He had bright red hair, the colour of a tomato, and piercings galore. He wore a black band t-shirt with some unreadable name labelled across his chest and a pair of black jeans that he'd cut off into shorts. He was a rebel, a misfit, a stoner, a hooligan, a freak. My mum, I could tell, disapproved of him.

As if sensing my gaze he snapped his head up. His clear blue eyes were amused.

"Finished staring at me, Lolly?" I looked away, embarrassed that I'd been caught. I heard him laugh.

We'd been living together for two years but I just couldn't get used to him. He was like an elephant in a house of mice. He always stood out, made his presence known with his insubordinate behaviour. Since the day he'd arrived I'd been wary of him. He was rude and uncaring to everyone in the house but it seemed as though he had developed an instant soft spot for me. He wasn't horrible to me, like he was to his father, and he didn't shove me into the back of his mind and ignore me, like he did to my mum. He was almost friendly, and the nickname he'd christened me with, 'Lolly', was a prime example. I still didn't understand where he'd pulled it from.

"I wasn’t staring," I replied softly, twiddling my thumbs. After a pause I snuck a look up at him and gave him a small grin when I saw him smiling at me.

"You weren't?" He piped in a thoroughly amused tone and I shook my head, standing up at the same time. Mum suddenly twirled around and looked at me.

"Sherrie, dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Could you set the table for me?" Her tone was bossy, as per usual, a no-nonsense bite that was preserved just for me. I sighed, my shoulders drooping; I'd wanted to sneak in a call to my friend, Nelly, so I could discuss the recent psychology project we'd been given. My teacher had blabbed on about it for the whole of the lesson but I was still confused.

I dragged my feet around the table, behind where Dan was sitting and, still under my mother's watchful gaze, gestured to him wildly. My mum frowned sternly at me and turned back to her stirring. I made a quiet sound of frustration and stepped, annoyed, over to the cutlery drawer, pulling out four soup spoons and four forks.

I know why she chose me to set the table, I thought grumpily as I pulled out four bowls from the cupboard, balancing all the items precariously in my hands. It was because she knew that Dan didn't like her, so, naturally, she was trying to be as nice to him as possible, whilst trying to get rid of her only daughter at the same time.

Roughly, I set the bowls and cutlery down on the table, leaning across Dan to fix up his dinner set when he wouldn't move. He gave me a superior grin, also completely aware of my mum's grossly sweet and unfair nature. By the time I had stormed back and forth between the table, the cupboard and the fridge to fix up the glasses of water, my mum had bustled over and placed the rice and stew onto the bench.

"Can you tell Ted that dinner's ready?" asked my mum, my glare going completely unnoticed when she'd turned away to pick up the dish of vegetables. Dan snickered and I whipped around to him

"Tell Ted that dinner's ready," I ordered and sat down at the table, propping my elbows onto the table. Ted's study was buried at the back of the house and even shouting for him couldn't reach him through the maze of hallways, nor penetrate the heavy oak door he always closed behind him. Dan made a face and reluctantly got up, taking his cigarettes with him. As he moved out of the kitchen he ruffled my hair in a dangerous fashion, still smirking as I screwed up my mouth in an unattractive scowl.

My mum came over to the dinner table and looked curiously at Dan's empty seat.

"Where did Dan go? And did you tell Ted that dinner's ready?" I took a leaf out of Dan's book and ignored her. "Sherrie? Did you tell Ted?"

I shot her a withered glance and was about to slap back a retort when Dan emerged again followed by his father who was rubbing at his eyes, wearing a tired grimace. My mum noticed and smiled over at the pair.

"Did you get it finished, honey?"

Ted sat down and slouched in the chair. "No, Mark's going to fax some more information over later. This case is going to kill me." Ted was a public lawyer who worked for one of the government operating authorities that lent out defence lawyers to people who couldn't afford one. It was damn lucky my mum was the manger of her company. Ted's pay wasn't exactly meant to sustain a broken family of four.

My mum reached over and rubbed his arm with her left hand, trying to reassure him with kind, supportive words.

"So, Lolly, how's school?" I groaned at the word 'school.'

"What do you think?" I asked rhetorically, reaching over to barrel some rice into my bowl. I almost dropped some onto the mahogany table underneath. Dan chuckled and lent forward as well. I passed the rice spoon over to him. "Surely your memory can't be that bad. You only finished last year, remember?" I continued, teasingly, still collecting the food from the dishes.

"Touché."

The rest of the dinner was carried in snippy conversations, mostly existing between my mum and Ted. Dan quietened and barely ate anything, much to my mum's dismay, and I left the table at first chance. I sighed, trudging up the stairs, my belly full.

Family dinners were so awkward.