“Bloody $#!! If only I $# knew that you’d be this $$## little %$#%#then I wouldn’t $#$# let Mary bore you!” a man bellowed on top of his lungs, his deep, throaty voice cracked when he yelled, but he kept going.

“Who the #$#$ would want to have you as his $#$# father, anyway?” another man shouted back, his voice was a bit higher than the first, indicating his youth. The venom in his words, however, matched the older one.

“Can you two just top fighting?” this time, a woman piped in, but instead of calming things down, the two men’s fight became even more worse, resulting higher volume with more profanity in the words they chose. Sometimes, slapping and clacking sounds could be heard, which meant that they had already started throwing things to each other

-

I rubbed my eyes sleepily. It was not even six thirty in the morning, and yet already it was noisy enough around me. My cellphone was under my pillow, and it was supposed to ring twenty minutes later, but since I was already awake and it would be difficult getting back to sleep again, I shut the alarm off. Trying to ignore the thunderous curses coming from the house beside me, I pulled out my hair, an exclusive way to keep my blood pressure moderate. And also to keep my sanity stay in my body. Those dirty words had managed to seep through my eardrums.

The bickering volume was still incredibly high, and since the fight that my neighbors wass having took place only 17 meters beside my house, I could hear all the things they said, whether I liked it or not. It was supposed to bother me, them fighting early in the morning and all, but when you’d become their neighbor for more than ten years and had heard all of this in every –friggin- morning for at least five years, the last thing you’d do is to be surprised. Or irritated.

In fact, lately, the Montgomery’s –that’s my neighbor’s surname, by the way- ‘good-morning’ fights had become my personal alarm. This week, I always woke up earlier than the usual because they’d been clashing at one another more often.

I’m still contemplating if it’s a good thing or not. Sleep deprivation is something that I’d very much like to avoid. But by getting up earlier, I can pass up my mom’s wrath. Somehow, Mom’s mood always in its worst at mornings. (That’s why I hate weighing my weight at dawn.)

-

“$%$# you, Marcus!” the older man shouted. It didn’t take a psychologist to recognize the absolute hatred in his voice.

“#$$ back at you, Gregory!” Marcus briskly retorted.

-

“Not a good option, Marcus… everytime you say your father’s given name, the battle would last more than three days” I mumbled to myself as I took my toothbrush. My family was generous enough to give me a joint-bahtroom in my room. I turned around to the mirror, examining my rather-dull face. Looking good in mornings is really not my forte. Somehow, my looks deteriorate when I put my head on the pillow.

Ah!

Is that another pimple? Why pimples love to grow in my face, and my face only? Cerella and Caleb share the very same genes as me. We’re triplets for God’s sake! And among us three, only I get pimples and pores this big. My sister, Cerella, has a fetish for face paint and eyeliner, but she has a face as clear as recently swept floor. Even Caleb, who always deals with mud and dirty balls and doesn’t have ‘Clean and Clear’ to wash his face, never has any skin problem. But me, Corina, who has tried her best to keep her face devoid from any dirt and all of its kind, has to deal with these bloody pimples!

Probably someday I should stay all night and watch my cheeks; I really want to know how a pimple would pop out.

-

“Marcus!!” Aunt Mary scolded him. But he just snorted his mother off.

Yes, his snort was that loud. Although, my ability to hear –or eavesdrop is the more appropiate term, really- things that was not supposed to be heard is also an X-factor.

Even from this distance, I could hear Uncle Gregory gasping. Or at least, I was imagining I heard him gasping. I’d already seen it so often that it was not hard for me to have the mental image. “You’re $$#&*$ insolent and $##$# disrespectful! You’re not my ^$$$ son!”

-

Hah! I make a face and the girl before me makes a weird, ‘I-knew-it’ expression. Told ya that Uncle Gregory would go loco if he said that. Another score for Corina!

Anyway…

I’m very much aware that I’m acting like a complete ignorant whackjob here. A neighbor of mine is having a serious fight with his father, and yet, here I am, wondering how I would conceal my pimples… I know I should try to placate them, or at least sympathize them. Courtesy of being a neighbor. But when we’ve never had any real human interaction with any of the Montgomery before, I doubt I can do that.

My family and Marcus’s family have never been close, even after living side by side for years. And not only that. You could say that none of us Hales has been engaged in a real conversation with any of the Montgomeries. Sometimes when we accidentally meet in front of our house, we exchange a nod of recognition, but that’s all. No more, no less. Even I and Marcus, despite our same age, school, and neighborhood, have never talked more than 10 English words. Ever.

Yes, we’re that anti-social.

And besides, we’ve ignored each other for ten years. Why start caring now?

-

“Get the $#$# out of here!” Uncle Gregory shouted, and a moment later, the door was slammed. I surmised that Marcus was the one who did it.

I’d finished brushing my teeth and took a peek of the room across my window. Marcus’s room and mine are in a row, I just need to crane my neck, and I could get a very clear view of his room.

The fight that he and his father have usually takes place in the kitchen, and after uncle Gregory drive him out, Marcus would likely go to his room to pack his bag and rushes to school. He almost never closes his curtain so I could easily spot him entering his room furiously. This morning he was wearing a simple black shirt with khakis. His dark hair was disheveled and his whole face was red from anger. Without words, he lunged for his backpack and checked his cellphone.

The way his face fell already told me that he had no new message from his friends.

“What the #$#$ are you doing up there?!” Uncle Gregory shouted from downstairs, and Marcus rolled his eyes. His impatience was very clear.

For a moment there, I almost felt sympathy for him. As much as I’m concerned, Marcus is a pretty good student, albeit rumors say that he has numerous issues. Thing is, his marks cover up his notoriety. But still, his parents treat him like he’s an unwanted child.

Sure, my mom is a bit eccentric and my dad never fails to embarrass me, but they never yell at me like I’m an outsider. You could say that we’re pretty close, in our own way.

Okay, I’m aware that ‘our own way’ includes spanking in the middle of the night and bone-crushing hugs at unnecessary events… but the thing is, we love each other… We just express it in a new, fresh, and torturous way.

Uncle Gregory yelled again, and Marcus suddenly slammed his cellphone to the floor. Of course, with his strength and fury, the phone broke into pieces.

Oh my God. The fight must had been more serious than the usual. I’d never seen Marcus broke anything over anger. He might be fond of punching things (or cheeks, in some occasions) until it breaks and incapable of being fixed again, but he certainly loves his things. I should know. I’ve lived 7 meters beside him for ten years.

I must have said it out loud because Marcus lifted his face and our gaze met. His eyes were dark-colored, but I couldn’t decide the color. The closest that I had ever seen him was in this distance, so I didn’t have the chance to study his feature at all. One thing I knew that he was a pretty good-looking guy, and he had this big, strange tattoo on his abs (which is pretty well-toned, too, yum). Don’t ask me how the hell I know it.

His eyebrows were raised in recognition and I do the same. This might sounds weird, but I guess this was probably our very first interaction after our first meeting eleven years ago. I almost didn’t identify him, due to the vast changes that he’d had over the years. Last time I had truly seen him, he was only a three feet tall, and had this pair of chubby cheeks that was naturally rosy. He was round eyed and always showered people with smiles. I remembered my mother had said that Marcus was one of the cutest kids around, and I responded by pouting my mouth until four centimeters from my face. That was quite a feat, I tell you. Even Cerella, who was known for her sulking, couldn’t pull it off.

But…

Right now, he looked like a stoner who hadn’t gotten his weeds for three days. Aka.. totally, immensely, indisputably disastrous. His face was still clearer than mine, but something in his skin complexion told me that he hadn’t been eating and sleeping healthily.

I had to frown at this unusual moment. Sure, he was sleeping right 17 meters beside me. Even I’m fairly positive that I’d seen him completely naked and vice versa. But still I found it weird when we finally had a proper eye-contact. Even weirder was the fact that we were able to hold it for a few seconds.

Another three seconds passes, and I just realized that I must have looked like a stalker whose hobby is watching other people’s room. Stifling a gasp, I drew my curtain so that neither of us could see each other again.

However, his intense gaze had stung to me so deep that it was hard to forget it. Even with my curtain hiding his figure, I somehow could feel that he’s still eyeing me.

-

“Get out of here!” Uncle Gregory repeated, Marcus’s door was violently rapped.

There was a short pause before,

“Gladly,” said Marcus. There was another moment of silence. I was still leaning against my window, motionless and quiet, waiting for the right moment to open expose myself. I just didn’t think I could manage to see Uncle Gregory’ angry face. He’s already a scary man to begin with; him being angry wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

I waited for another few seconds, and then brushed the curtain open…

Marcus’s room was empty.

‘Well,’ I tried to shrug it off, and not surprised when I could forget this so easily.

It’s not like I hadn’t seen this before, anyway…

When I walked downstairs, I was not amazed to find the whole Hales were already lurking in the kitchen for breakfast. The Hales are morning people, after all. We love hearing the birds chirping and adore the fresh air.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, everyone but me is more interested in the fights between the Montgomerys than the morning’s natural phenomenon. The statement was confirmed by the discussion about the fight as today’s ‘morning table talk’ topic. There are five people in the Hale family, and every each of them has their own ‘heroes’ at the Montgomery household.

“I’m disappointed Mary didn’t join the battle this morning…” My mom said, she put her hand on her cheek and let out a depressed sigh. It was a patented action that she always made whenever Aunt Mary didn’t yell at either her husband or her son.

“Someday, I swear I’d ask Gregory out for a couple of drinks.” Father proudly announced as he spread the butter to our bread. It was already the seventy seventh time he told that to us.

“Count me in, Dad.” Caleb hit father’s arm lightly.

Caleb and my father seemed to be having a good time. They both supported Uncle Gregory. Father supported him because.. well, I think it had something to do with their ‘fatherly’ nature and all. Even though they never shared a word, I’m sometimes convinced that my father and Marcus’s father is spiritual siblings at heart.

And Caleb… well, Caleb supported uncle Gregory simply because he secretly wished the tragic demise of Marcus. I don’t really know how the implicit, yet lethal rivalry started between those two. But I’m fairly sure that the reasons involved a few punches, kicks, and the title of the school’s bad boy.

Yes, my dear brother is that vain. But as much as I dislike his vanity, it doesn’t stop me from loving him. He’s always the one who helps me, no matter how complicated my situations are.

Like, at the eight grade, and somehow a 9th grader brawny –and not to mention bloodcurling- quarterback there was convinced that I was head-over-heels for him then tried to give me my very first kiss, Caleb was the one who helped me and pulled out three of that said man’s teeth.

Of course, the brave, but idiotic action led him to be the target of some jocks afterwards. But because of that particular event, Caleb was notorious for his smarting punches, agonizingly painful kicks, new techniques for beating people’s face into bloody pulp, and last but not least: his bloody-teeth smirks.

Just for you know, chicks in my school dig the very last thing, which explain Caleb’s full schedules at weekends.

Talk about peculiarity…

“Dominic didn’t even say a word…” Cerella sulked as she stirred her Milo. Her black eyeliner was a lot thicker today, meaning that she had just had a bad night. “I think I will brood and slit my wrists…”

The next few seconds were filled with silence.

Cerella was the sole supporter for Dominic Montgomery. I personally think that this is kinda twisted because Dominic is… Dominic. He kicks puppies and he eats kitten, plus, he wears purple nailpolish!

I mean, what kind of sane man who would willingly let his nails gets colored purple, of all colors?!

And hate to say this, but it seems that Dominic has a huge impact for my sister. His emo-ness (I know very well that it’s not a proper English word, so please keep your lecture) is contagious, and my sister has been infected... big time.

“Ah, you’re so emo, my daughter…” mom cheerfully tapped Cerella’s back, totally ignoring the lethal glares that the younger girl gave. “Be happy! Thanksgiving is a few days ahead.. and then…”

Suddenly, I felt a strong emotional urge to behave like a kid, “I know, I know!” I chirped, lifting my hand to gain mum’s attention. “It’s going to be Christmas!”

Mom and I shared an identical, wolfish grin. We love Christmas. We love to decorate things and experiment with our culinary skills. But above all, we love to shop the gifts.

“I hate Santa Claus…” Cerella said with her melodic, detached voice. Sometimes I wonder if she has trained the way she speaks, just to make her sounds cooler… and dying inside.

“Because he’s just another monster in red suit who loves to laugh a horrendous laugh?” I guessed, trying to be as cynical as possible. According to my knowledge, Cerella cherishes cynicism.

She responded differently than I’d intended. Cerella’s lower lips quivered and then she covered up her face with her –gasp- purple-polished nail hands. “Y-you steal my line!” she accused me, her voice was tremulous.

Oookkayy… it’s like I’m seeing a miniature, female version of Dominic (aka, the biggest emo in the world) right in front of me.

Caleb was kind enough to untangle me from this unholy situation. “Marcus’s totally beaten.”

Everyone’s eyes but Cerella’s were fixed to me, as I’m the only supporter for Marcus.

I coughed to distract their attention, my mind raced back to the brief contact that we had upstairs. “Uhm, yeah…” I said unwittingly, “he’s… totally beaten.”

Caleb’s brows shot to his forehead, “I meant that as an insult.”

“It’s more like a statement to me.” I defended myself. And Marcus, in a way.

“It’s an insult.” He said.

“It’s neither!” Cerella shrieked.

Alright. A gauche silence. That happens often in my family’s reunion.

“Hem hem, your Milo is getting cold, Cerella…” my mom said, breaking the silence with such sagaciousness that I so adore.

Our morning breakfast was completed with Cerella refusing to drink her milk and saying that she’d shave her hair… because we had let her milk went cold. Caleb calmed her down by promising that he’d buy her a tarantula, and even though he’d been promising that for the last two years –and never fulfills it- Cerella stopped brooding and agreed to go to school.

And then, dad took us to school. Mom came along, too, and gives each of us the dreaded ‘bone-crushing hug at unnecessary events’ before we stepped out the car, all sore and stinging because Mom really gave it all away in those hugs.

Is it twisted if I say that I love my family?

AN

Currently, I'm writing chapter seven of this story. Do you like it? I'll try to have regular updates of one chapter per one/two weeks of this.