New A/N: I went back and (finally) fixed the mistakes in past chapters. I'm gonna be changing them out now. Woo!

I don't know why I made the stupid bet

My mom had just gotten remarried to this Chuck guy. He was alright and all, I just wish he would have realized that I was, in fact, seventeen and ten years younger. Chuck had a son named Bradley who was exactly a month older than me. I have an older sister, Kara, and she practically fell in love with Bradley's best friend when she first saw him. She actually did trip, though. I made fun of her. Anyways, her little crush stopped after my mom's wedding.

Let's try to tell this from the beginning.

My parents got a divorce when I was a mere two years old and Kara was four. My mom raised us virtually on her own without any help. She never has and never will accept charity. Sure, Christmas wasn't the greatest present-wise, but we had all of our family and I liked it that way. I know that that is so corny, but it's true, so shush.

The my mom met Chuck Roethlis. He had this red-orange hair that he had gotten cut really short. He was pretty tall, 5'11 with these scary looking dark brown, almost black eyes. Anyways, he had some sappy story about how his wife had died a few years ago; I wasn't fully paying attention when Mom told Kara and me about it after her first date with Chuck. I, for one, was still in shock that my mother just up and started dating after fifteen years and she was already serious about him.

Then my mom invited Chuck and Bradley over for dinner. She told us that Tristain, Bradley's aforementioned best friend, would also be joining us. Right away, I invited Samantha, who prefers Sam. She has always been my best friend. Kara found this "so totally unfair" and invited her best friend Shenny (pronounced like Jenny).

Bradley was very, very tall, taller than his dad at 6'2. His eyes were a lighter, chocolate brown color and they weren't as scary as Chuck's. His hair was a reddish-brown and he had it cut slightly short, but still long enough that he could have it spiked up. Tristain was almost his opposite, looks-wise. He was tall as well, barely an inch taller. But his eyes were a bright, baby blue that kind of reminded me of the sky. His hair was a light blonde, and the same length as Bradley's, but Tristain's was gel-less. It's no wonder that Kara would totally love him. He was obviously her type.

See, Kara had this bright, platinum blonde hair that reached the middle of her back. It was natural, mind you. She hated people who dye their hair blonde. She was taller than me, around the average height of 5'6. Her eyes were a bright green that were almost the same color as real green grass. Mom told her they were like Dad's. Mom and Kara looked quite a bit alike. They had the same hair, except Mom's was a bit shorter. Kara was slightly taller, which made Mom kind of sad that her own daughter was taller. The main difference was their eyes. Mom's were hazel, but with more brown than green. Once I told her that they looked like baby poop. She took away my phone for a week. She's too sensitive, if you ask me.

I guess I looked like Mom and Kara. I had blonde hair as well, just not as bright and a lot shorter; it reached just passed my shoulders. It probably didn't look as bright because of the blue and green streaks that I had at that time. Mom wasn't so happy about them. My eyes were kind of scary to me. They were a yellow-ish green. When I was five, Kara told me I was part cat and I believed her. I actually jumped off of the roof to see if I would land on all fours... I didn't. Anyways, I was a lot shorter than them as well. Well, not a lot, but shorter nonetheless. I was barely 5'3, and I took pride in my height for some reason. When I was in fifth grade, the librarian at my school told me that guys like shorter girls, so I'm guessing that's why.

The dinner that night was... Interesting, to say the least. Mom and Chuck announced that they were getting married in a month, at the end of July. I laughed. Seriously, who gets married in July when it's so hot? I voiced this opinion. Then Mom told me to go to my room.

For the next month, I was forced to work with my mom, Kara, and my soon to grandmother-in-law to plan the wedding. I would have rather been out with my friends doing... something. Not drugs or each other, but something I actually found fun. Maybe even basketball, even though I suck more than leeches. I didn't see much of Bradley or Tristain, except during the stupid dancing lessons we were forced to take for the dance we'd all do at the reception.

The wedding wasn't a total disaster, surprisingly, considering I was involved and all. Kara and Bradley walked down the aisle first, looking all happy with me and Tristain behind them. Sure, I looked happy, too. But I was faking it. You would have to, too, if you had to walk with that egotistical jerk. Behind us was Andrew, my cousin. He was the ring bearer and he looked completely adorable. After him was Bradley's niece, Michelle, who was the flower girl. Then came my mom with her dad. She looked amazing. Before the wedding, Tristain actually asked me if it was right that she was wearing white. I resisted the urge to slap him and instead informed him that he had rhymed. The food at the reception was really good. Of course I would like it, I picked the caterer after all. Then came the dancing part. You have to understand this: I'm white. I can't dance. As in, at all. Luckily, we had an easy dance, and I only stepped on Tristain's toe once. Oh, but that was on purpose because his hand was lower on my back than needed be.

See how much trouble he causes? Everything that has gone wrong in my sad little life since I met him has been his fault. Well, except when Sam accidentally dumped her smoothie onto my favorite shoes. But I'm sure I could find some way to put that on him.

Somehow, I got stuck taking my mom and Chuck to the airport the day after their wedding so they could leave to Hawaii. It was my pan to do something that would efficiently make my mother angry at me before she left just because I didn't want to stay in the same house as my sister, Bradley and Tristain for two whole weeks. So in the morning, after forcing Tristain out of my room and into his, I carefully picked out my outfit. I decided on a pair of long, dark blue bell bottom-esque jeans. For my shirt, I picked a plain black tank top. After I put on my black and white Converse, I put on a million bracelets of all sizes. Then I used enough eye liner that would have been plenty for half of New York. Maybe not that much, but more than what was needed. My mother wasn't exactly amused.

After I dropped them off, I decided that I would just go home instead of Sam's house or someone else's. I parked my car in the garage then went in through the back door into the kitchen where I discovered Kara, Bradley and Tristain standing around talking.

"The 'rents are gone," I said, dropping my keys on the counter. Bradley and Tristain raised their eyebrows at my outfit while Kara mumbled "freak" under her breath, but I still heard her. "You should really speak up, Kara, darling. People might not be able to hear you. Oh yeah, and don't even plan on throwing a party this time unless you clean up your own damn mess."

"But you're so much better at it, Danielle," my sister replied sweetly. "Besides I already sent out the invites, so I guess it's a little too late."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Either way, I'm still not cleaning. You and all your preppy, stuck up friends can clean up." I sat myself on the counter, the three of them still just standing around. "Did you invite Lee, by any chance?"

"Who is Lee?" Tristain asked in that annoying deep voice of his. "Is he your boyfriend."

"Ex, actually. And if he's here, Kara, Ash better be here, too, 'cause he'll help not drink."

"I didn't invite Lee," Kara said in her "why-would-I-do-that" voice. "I did invite Ash, though, but he's going out with Cam again, so don't throw yourself at him."

"I never do, Princess."

"So, you're really having a party?" Bradley asked. "Dude, I did that last time Dad went on a business trip and he found out. He completely freaked."

"Yeah, well, you never, like, threw a party with us," Kara said. "We've never gotten caught and we totally have one every time Mom is gone for at least a week. Not that she would, like, care anyways. Unless we, like, supplied alcohol. Then she would go totally psycho."

"You have parties without alcohol?" Bradley and Tristain asked together, surprised. I laughed at them.

"You misunderstood," I said earnestly. "We don't provide the alcohol. We get other losers to bring it. And it's usually someone like Ash. Trent did last time, though, and he brought enough for all of China and India."

"Ahh, that makes sense," Bradley said. "So who all will be coming?" We all looked at Kara for the answer.

"Well, all my friends, for one. Don't, like, sleep with any of them, by the way. You'll get nothing out of it. Plus, they're, like, way too old for you. Plus there's gonna, like, be these guys that supposedly go to UCLA but whatever, they're totally hot. And, um, some Danielle's friends. I knew you'd invite them if I didn't. Plus, you totally can't run away to Samantha's to get out of cleaning like last time."

"I'm not cleaning, Kara."

"How about whoever is the least trashed has to clean?" Bradley suggested.

"Because that would most likely end up as me. You three all fall into that 'party like there's no tomorrow' crowd, and I don't. Plus, I've only gotten drunk off my ass once, and I had a not so pleasant surprise the next morning. So, how about whoever is stupid enough to get the most trashed cleans?"

"Oh my God, Danielle!" Kara exclaimed. "You know that it'll be me and I'll, like, have a hangover from hell in the morning."

"That's why you don't get completely intoxicated so that Dumb or Dumber get to clean."

"Hey!" Both Tristain and Bradley said.

"That sounds good, I guess," Kara muttered.

"So, is this a 'whoever drinks the most cleans the house' thing?"

"Yes, yes it is," I said brightly. "So, deal everyone?"

"Deal," they all replied.

"Shall we get prepared, then? Well, I've never actually set up for an ever famous 'Anderson Sisters' party. I usually just come home to them, clean them up, and cover for why Kara doesn't get up 'til five in the evening. I'll let ya'll set everything up while I clean my room."

"Planning on taking someone in there?" Tristain asked, mockingly.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. As I started to leave he continued, "Just, you know, it looked pretty clean last night."

I stopped mid-step. I felt Bradley and Kara staring at me, burning holes into my back.

"What was he doing in your room last night?" Kara asked in a curious voice. I bit my lip, debating my answer and not turning around to face them.

"He was, uh, doing...," I was drawing a blank. I was going to tell her the truth. Hell no.

"You," Tristain finished for me. Damn. I closed my eyes tightly, still not turning around.

"Really?" Kara asked. I could just see her eyebrows shooting up.

"I have to go," I muttered, quickly leaving the kitchen.

"Dude! You slept with her?" Bradley's half-angry, half-surprised voice rang through the house as I made my way down the hall. I quickened my pace and entered my room.

Near the end of the party (midnight), I was obviously not going to clean the house. I hadn't had anything to drink, but I was watching the other three. Kara had two beers, Tristain had five, and Bradley... Well, I lost count after six. Our house was packed with people, mostly people I didn't know. A lot of them were ones that Kara met when she had freshman orientation at the community college she was going to go to. Some of them were older guys that she had met there, but were going to be seniors and stuff like that. They were the ones that brought the beer seeing as they were old enough to buy it.

By two thirty, most people had gone, unless they were all ready passed out or were just hanging around. Most of the guys still there that weren't out were hitting on me. They didn't realize that it was pointless to try to hook up with me. Sleeping with guys I just met at a party just wasn't my thing. Around that time, I realized that I hadn't seen Kara for awhile. Then I realized I hadn't seen either of the guys for awhile. Sighing, I decided that it was time for the party to be over. I made most of the guys leave because they had a sober driver. If they didn't, I told them that they were to stay the night and they better be gone in the morning.

After everyone had been taken care of, I sulked down the hall towards my room. I paused at Kara's door, slowly opening it, and half dreading about what I might see. I saw her sleeping on her bed with a random guy next to her. Groaning quietly under my breath, I closed the door to her room. She would regret that in the morning and I knew it. I moved across the hall to my mom's room, quietly opening the door. I was pleased when I found it empty. I moved on to Bradley's door. I opened it so see him passed out on the floor, fully dressed. I smirked. He'd most likely be cleaning the house. I went to the next door, also opening it quietly. Inside, I found Tristain sitting on his bed still awake.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just checking on everyone," I replied quietly. "Kara made another stupid choice and Bradley's out cold on his floor. It looks like he'll be cleaning tomorrow. Plus, there's still idiots here that I wouldn't let leave."

"Why not?" he inquired with a frown.

"I'm not letting anyone drive drunk."

"Bradley'll be pissed if they're still here in the morning, you know."

"Well, then he can yell at me if he wishes, but there is no way in hell I'm letting those stupid drunk asses drive home drunk from a party at my house. If they got in some accident, I'd feel bad, even if I wasn't driving or even in the car."

"You feel strongly about this, don't you?" He sat up fully on his bed, more alert.

"Yeah, and you should, too. I've had enough shit happen to me when I was drunk, let alone my friends. Plus my sober friends that..." My voice trailed off. It wasn't something I liked to talk about so I decided to just drop it. "Never mind. It's just... People get hurt when drunk or when with drunk people... Or even on the same road as drunk people."

"I didn't say that I didn't care. I just don't feel as if it's my responsibility."

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. "Yeah, your type never does."

Before he could respond, I left his room and crossed the hall into my own. After changing into my penguin pajamas, I crawled into my bed, longing for a nice, deep, long sleep.

A/N: Ah, my first story. Please tell me what you think.