I stared at the assignment in the open folder I was holding. I knew this day would come, but why'd it have to be now? Of course, with my luck I should've instantly known what specific topic I'd get what when the "general topic", famous assassinations and their impact on society, was announced a week earlier.

I'd have to tell Dad soon since he demanded to see all my grades anyway. It was 4:01 and time seemed to be moving slower with each passing minute. About three more hours and my dad would be complaining about how this was not fair at all. He'd probably let a curse slip here and there as he ranted about how teachers would always find a way to point it out that you were a Booth. All of it was true, but I didn't want to bother with asking for a different topic to write on. I'd already learned that sometimes we're going to have to deal with people and things we don't like in life, and this was no different.

I guessed that I should get started on the research. I placed the assignment folder in one of the drawers in the ridiculously expensive desk my mother had bought. Only the best quality would do for her, but that's besides the point. I slid the drawer closed and took a seat in my new, surprisingly comfortable desk chair. The last one had broken after my older brother, Parker, had came to visit. He'd gotten in a fight with Michael when he caught him in my room. Mike had been slammed into the chair with so much force that the legs had collapsed. Truth be told, he was only in my room because his mom had forced him to help me change a light in the ceiling fan, but Bubba didn't know that, and dad didn't frown at all when he found out what had happened. He was just too overprotective.

Honestly, though, there was no reason for him to worry about Mike. We actually had each other, but for the sake of our parents we pretend to have a brother/sister bond. Apparently, according to Dad, his expressions around me were inappropriate and he didn't see me as a sister. Daddy automatically assumed we were taking part in things that could and should wait until we were older. Somehow, Mike had pretended to well when we were around each other.

When I finally realized my thoughts had gotten off track and I'd been thinking of Michael I looked up at the clock. 5:30. I wanted to puke, since, for some odd reason, I, Christine Booth, had just spent an hour and a half thinking about a guy I was supposed to hate. Supposed to? No. A guy I definitely hated. Before that train could roll of its tracks again, I opened up my laptop, and pressed the circular power button.

The music signaling it was turning on slowly faded in until the color came on the screen. It proceeded to fade out when the words "Welcome…" and "Loading" appeared and disappeared respectively. I tapped my fingers on the right armrest and wiggled the mouse with my left hand. Momma insisted on buying a special mouse even though I could've easily adapted a normal one. She even made me carry it to school and to use during computer class. I did it, but only because I knew it could become confusing learning how to use two different mice growing up.

Uh oh, I'd caught my thoughts about board a second train. I had to focus, and I refused to hit three strikes in a row. Since I'd been tangled up listening to my own thoughts I hadn't even realized the loading screen was gone. The password screen was in front of my eyes. I moved the mouse so the arrow on the screen was over the little text box for the password. I began typing. C-A-B-1-4-9-2-1. I held my finger over enter and paused for a split second before clicking the button. I expected the normal desktop screen with all the icons and the task bar to pop up but instead, the only thing I saw were the flashing words "Invalid Password. Please Reenter. Make Sure Caps Lock isn't on." I checked Caps Lock. It wasn't on, but that didn't matter because I had held the shift button while I type c, a, and the b. I started retyping,but by the time I hit the 2 key I realized what might be going on. I click the highlighted blue words that indicated I wanted to see a hint to my password. I read the words "So Christy, Round 7. Try to decode the hint this time. As always, there's a note taped under your desk. Good Luck!"

I didn't even bother to check the note. The first five were so hard, but somehow I figured them out. Then the last incident, which was about a month ago. Daddy had to spend seven hours over two days decoding it, and he was really angry. He vowed he'd whip Michael Hodgins so far into the future that he could attend his own funeral. Right then, I was saying a silent prayer that Daddy would keep his promise.

I opened my eyes and snatched the folder from the desk. Fuming, I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed my keys from the key holder, and pulled my coat from the coat rack. I slipped it on along with a cute, black, feathered fedora from the hat rack. I heard the wind begin to howl outside and the patter of rain hitting the roof, so, very swiftly, I reached for and umbrella and darted outside. I dashed to the garage and fumbled with the door in front of one of my two cars, a 2028 Velocity Yellow Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 3ZR with chrome wheels and cashmere leather seating, for a few seconds. I was actually thankful for this Michael on this note because since his family was richer than ours his mom made him get me my dream car. Mike made sure it was clear it was only because his mom force him, but he'd been using that as an excuse a lot lately come to think of it, but that didn't matter since she had an awesome car. The one Momma got me, a 2028 Techno Pink Chevrolet Spark 2LT Automatic was okay, but goodness, I was almost willing to give Mikey a kiss when he drove up in the car with a big red bow adorning the hood. Almost.

Suddenly, as I was driving, I began to feel like my gift to him on his last birthday, a home made fruit bouquet , was inadequate. I wanted to cry. It was unfair the price difference in our gifts. Just unfair. I pulled the car over and tried to calm myself. I wiped tears away, but as fast as I could clear my face more would keep falling. It better was just to sit there and let the crying run it's course. I decided against telling my dad what Michael did, for a short while anyway. He deserved that since he gave me, even if by force, what became my first taste of freedom. No matter how mean he could get he'd given me something that could never be replaced. I had to thank him some how..

I tried to crank the car up, but it was no good. The rain had slackened off a little, so I knew someone could come to help if they were willing to. I dialed Daddy's phone and he answered. "Honey, is something wrong?" I couldn't even form an understandable word due to my tears, partly again because of Michael and partly because I felt Daddy would be furious that I was driving in pouring rain since he had a rule against it. He spoke once again. "Christine. CHRISTY. Are you alright sweetheart? Has something happened?" Momma's gasping and her tearing up on the other end of the line got me upset. I didn't want to make them think I had been injured, so that's when I finally calmed myself enough to the point where he could hear words form. They were muffled, but they were still words.

"Daddy. My car won't start and...and...and" I had to think quick. It was a long shot since the twins wouldn't leave day care until 7:30, but I went for it, "I was going to pick up Luke and Kayley. I know it was a little early, but I was just burned out from trying to working on my homework but not being able to accomplish anything, so I thought I might as well spend some quality time with them." I thought Dad would call my bluff, but I heard Momma say 'awww'. I knew when she approved of something, he wouldn't yell as much. "Listen. I can't help you, right now. We're searching for a suspect in Pennsylvania, and we won't be back until morning. That includes Angela and Hodgins." I sighed which obviously showed I was let down. It was a moment or two before I heard Daddy's voice again, but he ended up asking, "Well your homework. What is it? Maybe I can help."

I gulped. Daddy could sense tension from miles away, so I'm sure he could feel it from through the phone. "Honey?" I shook my head and managed to say, " I have to write about Lincoln's Assana-" before I could finish I was cut off by one his rages. I could hear brakes slamming in the brackground. "Listen hear. My daughter is not going to be forced to do anything like that. It is unjust that society will just find a way to point out that your a Booth. Tomorrow afternoon your schoo-" I closed the phone. Listening to Daddy wouldn't help my current situation, anyway.

There was a knock at my window and I looked up to find Mikey outside with an umbrella. Ugh.