A/N: This is another quite short chapter but I had to end it at an appropriate spot. Reading it over, I realize it may be a little boring but I'm trying not to change too much because it worked out the way I originally wrote it. I mean, reading all of my notes and ideas, it came together alright. Definitely let me know what should be changed in the future though. I also have these chapters posted in my Livejournal named JumpTheTracks if you want more information about the story. Reviews are nice.


Okay so maybe I'm not perfect. But hey, my brother's got serious problems. When I was little, my parents were always leaving to go to important meetings and conferences with grumpy men that have comb-overs they think no one notices.

My dad must have thought that talented pitchers are experts at taking care of nine-year old girls.

My brother was the first source of my issues. Why I got all screwed up over time. Instead of playing with me or taking me someplace fun, or tucking me into bed, he left me alone up in my bedroom while he made out with a different girl every night in the glowing blue light of the television screen.

One night, I was having a nightmare and I woke up scared. I turned on all the lights upstairs and walked down into the living room and my shirtless brother was hovering over a skinny bleach blonde, his hands moving like sand monsters under the front of her blouse. I turned around and walked back up to my room and shut the door.

At the age of nine, I was lying on my floor, separating all of my pennies by the year. I was counting every flower on the wallpaper next to my bed. I was staring out my window, taking notes on how many cars of each color drove by our house.

Eventually I was old enough to be by myself in the house anyway. And it remained that way. Always here alone. For the past four years, I've sat in this computer chair, day and night, reading and writing, planning school activities, running for student council president. I don't even have any hobbies. Well, if you don't count, you know.

For the entire last month of my senior year at North High, I spent every waking moment doing research for my fifty-page thesis on John. F. Kennedy, His biography was my Bible for thirty days.

I open my bottom desk drawer and pull out the spiral bound essay, opening up to the first page. I press the tip of my index finger against the sharp corner of the plastic cover.

"If anyone is crazy enough to want to kill a president of the United States, he can do it. All he must be prepared to do is give his life for the president's."

I sit and think of how ironic it was that he said this before he was assassinated.


I've failed to tell you about my mother. My mother is Greek. I don't look much like her besides the fact that my hair is dark. She is thinner than me; she has long, straight, black hair and nearly black eyes. Her skin is almost the color of our coffee table.

My father goes around telling everyone she is such a wonderful stay at home mom. She was in the PTA while Matt and I were in school and she goes to the meetings sometimes now that Danny is in middle school, but she does nothing. Stay at home mom? Funny, I do all the cleaning around here because they are never home. And my mom simply doesn't have a job because she can't stop drinking wine long enough to spend a single day at work.

My parents aren't much of parents other than handing over the necessary cash to keep us out of their hair. I don't know why they even had Danny. Well I'm not sure they did that on purpose. I'm not so sure my mother can keep her legs closed, to be honest. I have the hot mom. The one that all the other neighborhood fathers wish they were married to instead of their own wives.

At least I don't have a hot dad. My dad is over six feet tall, with a beer belly that I swear Danny could have come out of. He has blonde-whitish hair, beginning to bald. He has pale green eyes that make him look almost albino. Looking at him closely, not on the news, I realize how creepy my father really looks. I bet if he weren't governor, the neighbors would just think he was the local child molester.


I shove my keys, wallet and bottle cap into my small, black purse. I throw it over my shoulder quickly and pace down the hallway to make sure Danny has his uniform on. I walk in as Danny is pulling up his pants. He yells at me so I turn around and wait in the hall, leaning on the railing of the stairs. When I turn around, Danny is dragging his bat bag through the doorway. That thing is bigger than him. Danny is following in Matt's footsteps. I'll only let that happen to a certain degree. I'm my brother's keeper. I drive him to all his games. My father certainly supports that Danny plays baseball but my father is always busy with town crap and seems to care more about Matt's games.

Matt is now playing baseball for North University right here in town. He still lives at home but I seem to only see him when he's sleeping. He is dating a girl named Rachel. They cheat on each other all the time. I think they just stay together because he likes sex and she likes the fame of being with a jock. She is possibly the most annoying person I've ever met in my life and I think my parents agree. She likes to steal Matt's spotlight. She's like his Yoko Ono.

I check to make sure Danny has his seatbelt on and I pull out of the driveway, looking at my bedroom window. My shade is crooked.