What Are We?

Prologue

Faith POV

He's my friend. My best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. That's what I've been telling myself, over and over and over. For the last three months.

Jordan and I have known each other since the third grade. We've been best friends ever since we were paired up for a science project. Now, as sophomores, were still real close.

Maybe too close.

I mean, come ON. I am SO not the type of person to actually find interest in the male population beyond tolerating ONE as a friend. I am a weird girl; I will admit it right now. I never denied it.

I'm being serious here. I am the girl who prefers to watch SpongeBob than go shopping. Sure, I like make up and clothes and all that, but honestly, I'm not the most social person around. People find my good friend sarcasm to be rude and bothersome, but neither of us is very big on manners.

But Jordan is so different. He's fun and popular and funny and nice and people ask us all the time, "How are you two friends?" and I always shrug and Jordan always says, "I don't know."

I stretch, yawning, and throw the covers off of me. I glance around my room, as if I expect something to have changed in the night. Nope, it's still the same. The same white desk, mirrored closet, window seat, nearly empty bookshelf, and assortment of clothes and stuffed animals that litter my floor. There is all of one picture in my room, of Jordan, Carla, and me. Carla, my only other true friend in this whole world. She smiles widely at the camera, both arms thrown around Jordan's neck, and mine, dragging us down. We're smiling, even though our backs are breaking under her weight. That picture was taken two summers ago, at Disney Land. The summer before high school, when we felt like we could do anything. We survived middle school!

When you're done with middle school, you expect it to be a blast from there. But no, this is exactly what it's like: Congrats, you've passed through three years of training. You may now have a two and a half month break before you start Hell. Have a nice day.

Okay, high school isn't that bad for the older students, but it is for freshmen. You are, once again, the babies of the school.

I check the clock. It's seven fifteen. Yup, that's me, Faith the early riser. I like to get up early so I don't have to deal with my Judy coming into my room. If she's coming in, she's going to be nagging me to clean up, organize, and break out the feather duster. Right.

I look in the mirror. A zombie stares back at me, and it's real scary. A whole head of wavy, knotted brunette hair, shiny green eyes searching for exposed brain, topped off with dark circles and cat scratches, crumpled pajamas, and bad breath. What a beauty! I shuffle to the kitchen in my fuzzy purple slippers and search groggily for a bowl. After stubbing my toe twice, hitting my head on the cabinet door, and blinding myself buy pushing the curtains back, I finally feel awake. I sit down to a poptart and juice, a classic gourmet meal.

I hear footsteps on the stairs, and a few moments later my little brother runs into the kitchen.

"I want orange juice!" Kevin demands, and I glare at him.

"Get some yourself."

"Why can't you get it for me?" he whines, and I sigh.

"It's like what Judy says, Kevin. You're eight years old now. You're in third grade. You can get things for yourself."

Kevin gives a very dramatic sigh, stomps over to the fridge, yanks the door open, and pulls out the juice like it weighs twenty pounds.

"Gimme a break," I tell him, and I plunk my dishes in the sink and go into the living room to watch TV. Thank gosh almighty for weekends, because without them and summer break, I would explode from overworking or frustration, possibly both. I like to spend my Saturdays sitting around the house, and Sundays at the mall with Carla (I don't really have a choice about the mall, because Carla makes me go anyway). In a perfect world, summer would involve doing that plus the beach the whole time. Of course, it isn't a perfect world so I have to do summer homework, chores, and whatnot.

Kevin comes in with a bowl of cereal and sits next to me, and I scrunch up in the corner of the couch, far away from him as possible. He eats like a pig, which is disgusting.

"I want the remote!" I roll my eyes and shove the remote beneath me, so I'm sitting on it.

"Thant's to bad." Kevin glares at me, but doesn't say anything. We sit in silence for a few minuets; then he speaks.

"Why don't you call her 'Mom'?"

"I've told you, because she's not our real mother. Unlike you, I remember Mom. She can't be replaced."

I know I've hit a sore spot, because he winces. Our real mom, Rene, died five years ago, when I was ten and Kevin was three. Kevin barely remembers her face, but I remember her face, her shape, her sound, and her scent. I remember her favorite place to sit at the park and read, what made her scrunch up and turn away in disgust, and what made her laugh and smile. She was kind, caring, and the most perfect mother anyone could ever ask for. She took me shopping for my tenth birthday, and made fairy tale plans for my sweet sixteen, and told me stories every night before I went to sleep. She always had a new story, all of them true, and each and every one a surprise.

Guess how she got repaid for all her kindness? She got sick and died. The end. Goodbye Mom, thanks for the ride, it was fun, but now were done, so we don't need you anymore. That's why I don't believe in any god, because if there were a god or gods then my mother would still be here.

Dad met Judy three years ago, and they were married six months later. I know that Dad misses Mom, and that Judy is a nice person who makes him less lonely, but we never really hit off. I can't hate her, because she really is nice and I know she tries so hard to fill the gaping hole my mother left, but she can't. No matter how hard she tries, she can't replace Mom. Maybe for Kevin ( who actually really adores Judy) and Dad, but not for me, and Judy knows this.

"Can we watch Tom and Jerry?... Please?" Kevin asks, and I turn his favorite show on. Kevin may be a brat, but he's a little kid, the little kid who I have tell stories to each night, who I have to comfort and chase away his nightmares.

Or at least I did, before Judy came.

Three episodes later, I hear two sets of footsteps on the stairs. Dad and Judy are coming down. Judy usually wakes up around the same time as me, so I forget that she likes to sleep in on weekends.

"Good morning," Judy says with a little wave. Judy, like my Dad and like how Mom was, is young; in her thirties. Mom was thirty- eight when she died. Judy is thirty-six now, Dad is forty.

"Hi!" Kevin says, spilling his bowl of cereal as he rushes to hug them. I clear my throat and point to the mess, glaring at Kevin.

"Oops," he says, raising his eyebrows and drawing out the 's'.

"Can you clean that up, Faith?" Dad sais as he shuffles groggily into the kitchen.

"No, Kevin spilled it, Kevin clans it up. Get to work, kid," I snap. Ever since Judy came, Dad and I have not been getting along.

"Faith," Dad calls warningly, saying: Do not start the weekend out like this, or there'll be trouble.

"I'm not cleaning this up!" I call back.

"It's okay, Jeff, I'll get it," Judy cuts in before the argument can leave the ground. She comes in with a towel and dustpan. She scoops up the cereal, and pats the floor with the towel. I pick up the bowl and take it into the kitchen, and plunk it down in the sink.

"Do you want more cereal, Kevin?" Judy asks, and he nods. I escape up the stairs and into the bathroom. I turn on the hot water and take off my pajamas. I open the glass door and a puff of warm steam blows out, fogging up the mirror and tickling my skin. I shiver and step into the hot water.

The water fully wakes me, and a few minuets later I'm wrapped in a towel, pulling my brush through my hair and scrubbing my teeth with overly minty toothpaste. I put a towel around my hair, gather up my crumpled clothes, and enter the frigid hallway. I run into my room and shut the door. I dry off and pull out a light orange v-neck and faded jeans from my closet, good Manhattan autumn clothing. I look at my figure in the mirror.

For a sophomore, I'm pretty damn short. Four foot five, to be exact. I'm kind of curvy, not chunky, but I have curves that attract stares. Carla always asks me how I can be curvy and slim, and I tell her: Twinkies and tennis. Voila.

I pull on my rainbow fuzzy socks and curl up on my window seat with a book. I'm not a big reader, but I love some authors, and I read their books over and over again.

It's raining outside. It's the perfect mood, rain outside, the smell leaking in through the cracks of the window, a good book, and a warm room. All I need is some Goldfish and hot cocoa.

I jump at the sound of my phone. I check it. It's been two whole hours, just like that. It says: Message from Jordan. I scowl as my heart skips a beat, and try to ignore the excitement in my tummy.

Seriously, Faith? Interested in guys? Riiight.

Jordan wants to know if I'm busy. I'm totally gonna be busy on a Saturday! That's when I do all sorts of productive things, like solving world hunger and finding cures for cancer!

I just say: no. y?

A few minuets later, he answers: Bored. U?

Me: no. I was readin.

Him: oh. Wel if u wanna go back 2 reading…

Me: no its fine. do u wanna do somthin?

Him: lets go meet Carla. She says she wants 2 splash in the puddles.

Me: kk. Be there in a min.

I put my book down, put my phone in my pocket, and pull my Uggs and Mom's old black raincoat on. It goes down just past my butt, so I don't look like a creepy detective. I grab my keys and call, "I'm going out! I'll be back later!"

Dad calls down the okay, and I leave.

The rain pats on my head as I walk, but the high collar that goes up just past my chin keeps the rain out. I leave the collar open, finding it more comfortable. Also, it looks better.

We actually have a house with a yard. You never hear about then, but even Manhattan has single-family houses with actual lawns and such. It's very nice, actually.

I soon see Jordan, waiting with Carla. I smile and wave, and start running to them.

A tiny part of me wishes Carla wasn't here, and I scoff at that. I'm not in love with anyone! Especially my best friend! I shout at myself as I reach them. Carla pulls us into a hug, squishing all three of us together.

"Oof!" I huff. My stomach flips over, and I try to ignore it. Carla is rambling on about some movie she saw last night, and I'm glancing at Jordan. He seems distracted, looking around.

He's cute! A tiny voice says in my head. Shut up. I tell it. I cross my arms and sigh quietly to myself, angry with myself, but also finding this quite confusing.

We start walking down to the park, chattering about this and that. I can't seem to meet Jordan's eyes without blushing, so I don't.

Seriously, me, actually in love? With my best friend? I don't like it, but…

I guess I don't have much say in it, hmm.

Jordan POV

Faith looks awesome in her coat and boots, splashing through puddles at the park. I hate not being able to meet her eyes, but I guess I'm too shy to.

I mean, Faith is not a girl to be interested in guys. She would never, never dream of liking any guy, especially me. She doesn't think the "male population" is very mature.

Well, she's right, but still.

I hate thinking of my best friend like that, but I guess it's uncontrollable.

We walk through the park, Carla and Faith talking about going to the mall again tomorrow. The rain is letting up, now just a drizzle. There's only a few people here today, mostly ones who have to walk their dogs.

"Hey, Jordan!" I turn. Mark waves, struggling to keep his black lab Lulu under control. He half-stumbles half-jogs over to us, and Lulu nearly nocks Faith over, with her being so short.

"Lulu! Off!" Mark orders, and his dog stops licking Faith's face. "Sorry, Faith. Hi Carla," he says, and then turns to me. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"Enjoying the rain!" Carla says.

"Huh. I hate rain, but I'm the only one who can control Lulu," Mark says, shaking his brown hair out of his eyes.

"Sucks for you," I tease.

We talk for a while, and then Carla butts in. "If you two are going to talk, we girls are going to Faith's house, 'kay?" I nod, although I wish Faith would stay. They walk away from us, back the way we came, and Mark releases Lulu.

"No one's around right now, so I don't have to worry about her trampling any old ladies," he says, and I laugh.

"Yeah. It's good to let her run around," I reply. Lulu races around in circles, full of energy, then takes off around the trees.

Besides Faith and Carla, Mark is my only other best friend. A lot of people don't understand why I hang around girls so much, but honestly, they are wayyyy saner than a lot of guys at our school. Besides, when I first moved here Faith was one of the few people who didn't seem to notice I was new. So there.

"I wish it was still summer," Mark said after a while.

"Why? No rain?" I said half-jokingly.

"Yeah," Mark laughed, "And no school."

"Mm. Definitely nice not to have school."

"Well, I've got to go. See you around!" I told him and I headed home.

Is it wrong to like your best friend?

NOTE:

So what do you think?

Sorry it took so long to get a story up.

I really like how this is going (despite it being the first chapter.)

Yay!

~Wings