CHANGED

"Casey takes a trip down memory lane and, as always, over-analyzes everything."

SUBTLE!DEREK / CASEY.

Updated 9/1/11.

So. I've been over thinking again.

It's a personality trait that has its merits and misfortunes. I can analyze a situation down right to the last words someone said, which can help a lot. The conclusions I come up with are most likely true, but they get so jumbled up in the mess that is my mind. The one thing I can't organize is my mind.

Deciphering what someone says and what they mean is confusing work. There's not enough capacity in my brain to hold all the scenes that I star in. Funny how this part of me stayed and yet, I've changed so much.

Before we became the McDonald-Venturis, I was a preppy grade-grubbing girl among many. My all-girl school didn't seem to think this was as geeky as Thompson High does, because most of the girls there were exactly like me.

We weren't perfect, but we received almost perfect grades. A freshly-marked paper with the letter A on it was a highlight of our week, but that's not all we worried about or strived for. We met boys and tried to figure out with our friends if he was really into one of us. We just never met them at school, where you could only find males teaching, and none of them were remotely cute, to our dismay. We were, and still are, teenage girls, after all.

My mom dating a guy wasn't anything new. People tried to set her up on dates all the time, saying things like she needed a good man in her life that she wasn't 'just friends' with. She always accepted, not wanting to be impolite.

I already knew that the chances that mom getting back together with our dad were slim to none. They both did still have a somewhat friendship and never really fought. I guess they just weren't right for each other.

The day came when she went out with George. She did want to go out on a second date with him, which was kind of surprising listening to my mom's description of the first one. Unromantic as it sounded, he was 'being himself', so she wanted to 'get to know him better'. 'Okay,' I said, even though I knew doubt was filling up my mind as we spoke. But I tried to trust my mom's judgment. If this was a good guy to her, he was probably a good guy.

'Getting to know him better' took a few more dates and then she announced she was getting married on a whim one day. George was suddenly step-dad material.

We found out a while ago that he had three kids of his own. A little girl younger than Lizzie named Marti, a boy around Lizzie's age named Edwin, and a boy my age named Derek, who we were going to meet soon.

I didn't know what to expect and I had a lot of worries and concerns. What about school? Are we going to move into their house? What about our apartment?Why can't they live here?

I knew the last one was pretty stupid. As big as our apartment was for us, it couldn't possibly hold four more people comfortably.

"I like where we live!" Lizzie piped out.

I didn't blame her. Here she had her own room. According to mom, when she got a tour of the house, there were only enough bedrooms for George's kids and himself. They had planned the whole thing out a few days after he proposed. Nice to know they thought one thing out.

Edwin was going to have to sleep in the attic when we moved in. Lizzie and I would have to share his old bedroom, which wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't so small, as we saw from the tour of the house we got when we met George's kids.

I wasn't going to complain (to my mom's face), though. Mom was going to be happy, and I was going to be happy for her. She had found Mister Right, and I was happy for her. I was supposed to be, anyway.

George seemed nice, and although I didn't have any idea what his kids were like, things were going to be okay. We were just moving, switching schools, sharing a room, and getting a new step-dad and three step-kids to boot.

Perfectly okay.

I lied. I complained, a lot.

Whoever had said 'things were going to be okay', had obviously not heard of our situation. As much as I did want to support my mom, I did point out more negatives about the situation than the positives.

Derek was a conceited egotistical pig, and still is. There's no way to sugarcoat that. Forcing two dramatic teens that severely disliked each other after one meeting to live with each other was not okay, in any way.

Things weren't going to be all right. Like I said to Lizzie, 'George being nice doesn't make up for his three little monsters.'

Maybe it was just me throwing a tantrum in my own way. All I can say is that I was just angry and sad about the whole situation. We had to change our lives a lot because our parents decided to get married. I think my mom realized that sometimes, when I vied for my own room, among other things.

Call it something to lean back on, something I could guiltily slip in a conversation to try and give me an edge in our arguments. But I think she knows I've pretty much gotten used to it, so I really can't rely on that anymore.

Still, it got somewhat better. Derek's not really too much better, but he does do some thoughtful gestures every now and then. But only when there's something in it for the both of us, of course. Then again, I can't really expect anything more from Derek. He's more bearable, though still annoying. But I think we're getting closer to our 'feel-good family moment'.

Edwin's grown a lot since the first time we met. He's not really under the command of Sergeant Derek anymore. And I'd say he's better at collecting data and analyzing it than anyone I know.

Marti's still adorable, throws tantrums, has imaginary friends, and changes her favorite color every week (or day, depending on her mood). But she's grown somewhat too, whether she's pretending or not.

George has adapted to having me, Lizzie, and mom around and knows how to deal with girl problems a bit better. Emphasis on 'a bit'. As much as he wants to help, we women still hopelessly confuse him.

Lizzie's more than just good at soccer and earning a belt in tae-kwon-do now. And Mom's learned to help the boys too. Guess she understands boys better now and how they operate.

Me? I'm still trying to find the manual.

But really, I've changed the most. Not just academically, where I live, or who I choose as my friends, because those changes are insignificant. Those deal with status, and the status quo isn't everything.

I'm lying through my teeth, but what do you expect? I'm still in high school.

I don't grade-grub much anymore. An A on a particularly hard assignment is still high up there on my list, but a kiss from Max has knocked it out of first place.

And though school's still way more disorganized than my last, there are perks. I can hold hands with my boyfriend in school and steal a kiss in-between classes.

Dad visits more now than before…and I've found my ballet CD that Derek's been hiding! The last one's a bit more recent, but it does add a happy feeling to my day, even if it was under the musty, old, crusty couch pillows-

I look up from my journal to hear glass breaking upstairs. I think - no, I know that whoever did it starts with a 'D'.

Miraculously, it's something he didn't already break and try to (unsuccessfully) glue back together. We're running out of fragile objects around here as it is.

Ugh, I'll probably have to clean it up after I yell at him. Honestly, it's just sad how-

Thump.

Great, now Edwin's involved. He probably saw the mess and threatened to blackmail Derek. Is it sad that I recognize him being smashed into the carpet?

I sigh and close the entry from when we first moved in with the Venturis, knowing I'll be interrupted in a bit anyway. I'll somehow be dragged into this too, as usual.

I can hear Derek's footsteps and they sound pretty close. I didn't think he'd be this quick, but it's too late to think about that now.

I don't have much time to hide my journal before he comes, so I hurriedly stashed it under a pillow. He could use it as blackmail material, no matter how cliché and predictable that was.

"Hey Casey, if Dad asks, tell him I went out for…waffles or something," he said, grabbing his trademark leather jacket and putting it on. His hair is mussed, and his cheeks are flushed from hurrying down the steps. It'd be a good look on him if he wasn't asking me for a dim-witted favor.

…Um, ignoring the not-so-subtle Derek-might-be-somewhat-attractive (something I had been ignoring for years) comment, and back to coherent thoughts that made sense.

"Derek, you think he'll seriously believe you'd go out for waffles at eight o'clock at night?" I said, rolling my eyes.

Obviously, his lack of logical thinking under pressure, or even normally, was getting to him. He was the Lord of the Lies, and that was the best he could come up with? I was sort of disappointed.

If I didn't disapprove of lying, that is.

"Yeah, thanks." he said distractedly, having found a small mirror left on the banister by Marti. Oh god, he seriously stopped in his efforts to flee the crime scene to fix the actually-messy hair to turn it into looks-messy-but-he-did-it-on-purpose hair?

I scoffed. "Unbelievable," I muttered as I laid back onto the sofa, trying to discreetly hide my journal. But that didn't escape him. This from the guy who can't pay more than two seconds to anything that isn't in a skirt! Why does he always catch anything I do? I wasn't even wearing a skirt!

With a Cheshire grin, he paused. With the way he was leaving, our parents would come home to find us wrestling over my journal and Edwin sweeping up the glass.

I put my guard up, which wasn't much, since it was always up whenever I went anywhere Derek was.

A pause.

Suddenly, Derek was next to me (darn his athleticism!). He grabbed the journal as I did and we played tug-of-war with it.

"Oh, come on, Derek! Get out of here so you can eat your fake breakfast!"

"Not a chance! If I can't blackmail you, who's to say you'll lie for me?"

"How do you know this isn't the night I turn into your darling, devoted stepsister?"

He stops altogether, though still manages to have the same hold on the book while I'm still trying to pry it out of his fingers with all my might. Seriously? Since when has Derek had super strength?

"Ew. When will you ever be darling? Seriously, Case, use some words from this century."

I finally manage to get the book while he's distracted and make a run for the stairs. Realizing what just happened, Derek cries, "Oh no you don't!" and rushes towards me. I'm halfway up the stairs when he dives for me. His fingers just manage to brush part of my ankle. He curses as he lies on the stairs, pounding his fist into the stairs before taking off after me again.

I manage to reach my bedroom and had my hand on the doorknob when I felt arms suddenly grab me around my middle. I screamed, kicked, flailed, anything to get me down.

"Let me down!" I screamed, threatening to let everyone on our block (and possibly China) hear us.

He complies, putting me down in the hallway. But before I can safely hide out in my room, he turns me around and pushes me against the wall with an effortless little tap on my shoulder. He puts his hands on either side of me, effectively blocking any way of escaping.

Damn him and the stupid fake waffles he should've fakedly gone to get already.

"All right, princess, here's how it's going to go. You give me the journal, lie to the parentals for me, Edwin will clean up the mess a little faster," –with a pointed look in Edwin's direction, who only grumbled – "and Dad and Nora won't suspect a thing. Got it?"

I lunged and grabbed his wrist, as if that would stop him from exposing all the (secretly fake) thoughts I had written in my journal. He paused and looked down at our joining of hand-and-wrist. He seemed to consider it for a moment, his eyes flickering between that and my eyes. I wondered why on earth he didn't just pull away and run out. My hold couldn't have had that much power over him, could it?

But just as quickly as it happened, he yanked his arm out of my grip. As predictable as it was, he did have the upper hand now.

"Just to be sure you comply," he smirked, quickly recovering from the weird incident as I was still processing it. He grabbed the book out of my hands without taking his gaze off of me. I let him. Breaking this contact seemed like the wrong thing to do.

Just as suddenly, he gave me a two-finger salute and ran downstairs without a word. I rolled my eyes and leaned over the banister. "Der-rek!"

Some things never change.