"We are at the place where young Amber Darling was last seen. She has been missing since yesterday. The family says that she was going to meet up with a friend at a local park, but she failed to show. When she didn't show, her friend waited for about an hour before leaving to the victim's house. That is when the real panic started to set in. They looked every place that she could be, but they had no luck... So then they called the Police and reported her missing. Now the family are making posters and still searching.

But this raises a question: does this girl's disappearance have anything to do with the other girls that have been missing these past two weeks? Nobody knows for sure because each girl's location was far from one another and there are no similarities with the three teenagers, except to say that they are all female.

We'll keep you updated with information as soon as we can. If anybody has any information on these girl's whereabouts, don't hesitate to call the police.

This is Brock Denim and has a safe evening."

The channel switched to an episode of CSI Miami.

"Wow. How unfortunate." My father's voice broke the short-lived silence.

"Very." I agreed and scooted closer to my father who was relaxing on our couch. He noticed how I was scooting closer and put his arm over my shoulder.

"Don't worry, Pumpkin. I'll keep you safe." I smiled and leaned against him, glad for his comforting presence.

My father wasn't the man who had all the time in the world to spend with his family. His job was being one of the top lawyers in L.A. So most--I mean all--of his time was spent devoted to helping his clients. There were only rare days where my dad would be allowed to have a day off.

Today was one of those days.

Don't get me wrong; I'm proud of my dad. I mean, to be one of the best lawyers meant you had to be kick-ass. And that's exactly what he was.

So far the whole we ate ice cream and watched T.V.--thanks to summer vacation. And this was my first day of being free from all the tests, drama and teachers. Ah, finally, I could relax.

But things like this happening on your first day of vacation didn't blend right with the summer happiness. It was like hoping to get a sweet strawberry, but instead you got a sour one.

And on top of it all, she went to the same school as I did I had talked to her a few times since her locker was next to min, but I didn't understand it. Amber was very nice to people and she had a wonderful attitude to match. But since she was kidnapped that was a whole different thing. Why would anyone want to harm her? The people, or person, could have been close to her and could have taken her for some unknown reason. Or it could possibly some whacked out person on the streets just deciding to take these girls. And if that was so, then that crazy person could still be on the streets, waiting for another victim….

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

"Raya, your nails are digging in my arm."

I looked down and saw my nails were indeed digging into my father's arm. "Sorry." I quickly removed them and folded them across my chest.

"Is all this worrying you?"

My eyes were focused on the screen. "No. It-- I just feel sad for all those families." I looked up at him.

Just by looking into his eyes I knew he could see what I really felt. "Okay. I believe you." His face turned to the screen.

So we sat on the couch for another hour before my dad went to go take a shower.

I yawned and stretched myself out on the couch. The door opened and closed, letting in the bright light until it was all darkness again.

"Nice, sis." My brother set his backpack on the floor and sat in the armchair beside me.

I looked up at him. "It's summer vacation, so I can be lazy all I want."

"True, but there will still be parties, hanging out with friends and getting wasted. If we're doing that, we can't be lazy." He ruffled my hair into a mess.

That's when I sat up to look at him. "For me, Oliver, not so much. All I want to do is stay clear from the booze and parties. Don't you remember what happened last year?" My eyes narrowed as I saw him grin.

"Of course I do, how could I ever forget?" He started to laugh now, shoulders shaking up and down.

"It wasn't funny, Oliver." I huffed and shot him a deadly look.

"Ohh, she's mad now. Everyone else though it was hilarious, so why can't I think it's funny?"

"Because you're my brother and you should have helped me. Oh, but where were you? You were getting laid in some bedroom."

His grin vanished and his expression was quizzical. "Shh," he looked around; making sure no one was there. "How the hell do you know that?"

"It was spreading like wildfire that night and the day after. And guess who started the gossip? Your so called "friend" James." After a couple of seconds his face was changed into utter shock.

"Yeah, that's right, Oliver, keep that look on your face." I looked at my shoulder and picked off a hair. I smiled wickedly at him.

Oliver just waved his hand at me, waving off the subject. "Whatever. It's all done now." He stretched out in the armchair, arms grabbing out toward the ceiling. "Besides," he grinned, head rolled to the side so he could look at me," lots of girls want me now."

I rolled my eyes. "Pig."

"So what, all of the guys are like me. Are you going to call your boyfriend a pig?"

"Correction, not all guys are like you and your friends. There are a handful of guys that are nice and decent." My eyebrows knitted together. "I don't have a boyfriend anymore, remember? He dumped me three months ago. And for your information he is a pig.

His head turned to look at me, his expression one of confusion. "Really? Wow... Well I didn't like him anyways so it's good he is out of the picture."

"Not only are you a pig, you have no feeling either." I crossed my ankles and examined my feet.

"Hey, I don't like to be insulted by anyone, especially not my little sister."

"I'm only younger than you by a minute!"

"You're still my little sis." He pushed his hand against my head. I struck back at him, barely missing him by a centimeter.

"UH!"

A throaty chuckled uttered from his throat. "Nice aim."

My arms folded across my chest. Having a twin brother was not only a bad thing; it was more like a curse. We shared some similarities, for instance: hair, cheekbones, face, and we have similar traits in our personalities.

But on other things, we are just different.

The T.V channel changed from CSI Miami to MTV. I looked down at where I had the remote. It was gone.

"Oliver!"

"What?"

"Give me back the remote!"

"Uh, no. CSI is so boring. Why the hell do you even watch it?" He kicked off his shoes and kicked his feet up on the footstool.

"It's interesting and a great show." I got up and leaned quickly to the side, trying to swipe the remote away. Oliver dodged my hand, covering the remote.

"You're not going to get it." Oliver teased.

"Just watch; I'll get it." I settled back down in the couch.

He scoffed. "Sure."

I rolled my eyes. He always underestimated me. Just because I'm smaller than him, he thinks I can't do anything. I'll show him. Stupid brother of mine.

So I just sat there, looking around at the condo, ignoring both the T.V. and my twin.

It was a nice place, the walls painted a light brown, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a large living room and a large patio that overlooked the city. It was a fantastic view at night.

There were some painting on the wall, but they were either of fruit or flowers. Our family photos covered some parts of the wall, mostly the hallway. Those photos were back when we were in sixth grade and down. They were dorky pictures and weird poses. I hated dressing up and then going to take pictures that were suppose to go to our family for keepsakes. We didn't even have that much relatives in L.A.

A curio cabinet was on the side of the T.V. and had small glass figurines inside. They were something my mom loved to collect. It made the house feel complete and we were told never to touch it and she used to tell us when we were kids not to get too close to the cabinet. So there was no rough play ever in the condo. And if there was, then there were always consequences.

No shoes were allowed on the beige couches for they would stain. And there was a no drinks rule also, but they were always put on the table in front of the couch. Of course there had to be coasters underneath, so nothing would stain.

My mom was a freak about these things.

I eyed my brother's backpack that was on the floor, close to my feet. Why did he have if it school was out? He never had his backpack unless he had something important in it. I bit the bottom of my lip and looked at my brother from the corner of my eye. He was concentrated on some music videos that were playing. I flexed my fingers and then lunged forward quickly, grabbing the straps, pulling it toward me.

Oliver saw me and his eyes widened. "No! Put it down, Raya!" He held out a hand, moving slowly.

"Watch it, or I'll drop it."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Ya think?" I held it out toward the side, holding the strap with two fingers. I didn't know what was inside it, but id had to be important if Oliver was getting worried. So, would I really drop it without knowing what was inside? "What's inside?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It must be important if you're getting all worried, Oliver. Tell me or I drop it." I moved it with my fingers and something inside clinked together. It sounded like bottles.

Oliver held out two hands in a stopping motion. "Okay, I'll tell you, but keep it in your lap."

"Fine." I grabbed the backpack with two hands and lifted it into my lap. The things clinked together again.

"Careful!" he hissed.

Drama queen. Now I was really interested in what he had in the backpack. "I'm waiting."

He exhaled and looked around the living room, making sure no one was around. "Where's dad?"

"Taking a shower. He barely got in about ten minutes ago. Wait--don't get me sidetracked!"

His eyes rolled. "I'm not. I was just making sure he wasn't around." My eyes narrowed. Did I really want to know what he had? "I have hard liquor in there: Tequila, Vodka, and a couple of other things." Once he saw my reaction--which was pure shock--he quickly explained. "It's for a party tonight, some guys wanted it, so I had to supply."

My teeth clenched together and my left hand balled up into a fist. I was ready to strike at him. "Were you even going to tell me about this?" I jabbed an angry finger at his backpack.

His hand reached around to grab his neck. "Uh, not really. I wanted to keep it away from you as long as I could. I didn't do very much of a good job."

"Hell no you didn't!" My eyes closed, and my fingers wrapped tightly around the straps. The beating of my heart accelerated and anger flowed through my veins.

"Whoa. Calm down, Raya."

Another intake of breath. I opened my eyes to see Oliver's creasing forehead. "Why should I?"

"Because your lip is bleeding."

Bleeding? My lip was bleeding? I touched my fingers to my lips and looked down at my hand. Oliver was right; there was crimson blood on my fingertips.

I flung my head back on the couch so that I was looking at the ceiling.

"I'll go get a napkin for your lip." He made no sound as he got up. Just an excuse to get away from the subject.

Now there was a pain in my lip. It throbbed and I glided my tongue over the open flesh, which made it ache even more. The pain felt good.

Oliver's footsteps grew louder as he came. "Here" His hand held out the napkin. I accepted it and applied it on my lip. Another sting.

"Don't think the subject is through."

Silence. "I know."

The napkin left my lip and I stared down at it: there were spots of blood.

"You could get caught with that crap."

"I know."

"Then go to jail."

"I know."

"Stop saying 'I know'!" My voice went an octave high.

"Okay."

I sighed. "This is a big deal, Oliver."

"Don't you think I know that, Raya!" He practically growled at me.

My eyes closed. "Then why did you agree to it!"

"I don't know!" he yelled. Then, as if all the energy had drained from his body, Oliver slumped down.

Now I felt bad for him. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "We'll get through this. I'll help you."

He looked over at me, watching my face closely. "Will you really?" I nodded and he smiled a little. "Then you have to come to the party with me."

I jerked my hand back. "No."

"You just said you would help me, Raya!"

"But I won't go to that party with you."

"All we need to do is drop off the booze and we'll be on our way."

"Are you positive?" I peered suspiciously at him.

"I promise." he spoke gravely.

And I trusted him. "Alright; I'll go."

He grinned. "Thanks, sis."

"But for five minutes and then I'm hauling your ass out." He made a face at me, so I made a face back.

In the back of the condo a door closed. Oliver's eyes widened. "Is that Dad?"

"Probably, it was just me and him all day. Mom and Corrine went to go grocery shopping."

He tried to pull the backpack off my lap.

"Don't touch it!" I whispered. Oliver let go and turned his eyes back toward the screen. I lowered the backpack toward the ground, carefully, and kept it at my feet.

A heartbeat later I did the same, slowly turning my head toward the television. I fiddled with my fingers, suddenly nervous.

"Raya?" called a voice.

"Yeah, Dad?" My voice was shaky.

"I heard a door; did your brother come in?" His footsteps echoed down the hall.

My brother stayed still, breathing softly. I turned my head and gave him that look that meant stop-being-so-nervous. His lips set into a thin line and spoke, "Yeah, Dad, I'm here."

"Oh, okay." He came and stood beside my side of the couch.

I glanced up at him, watching him fix his tie. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing, but it's the first time in a long time that I get to eat with my family. I want to be dressed up for this. It's going to be a nice dinner." A smile lit his soft, aging face. He was wearing black slack pants and a plain blue dress shirt with a gray tie.

"So do Oliver and I have to dress up?"

"If you want, you don't have to."

"Well I'm not going to dress up for this. It is just dinner." Oliver had a smirk on his face.

My dad looked down at him. "No one said you had to, son."

I glared at Oliver. He wasn't going to ruin Dad's day. "I'll wear something nice, Dad." A hand patted my shoulder.

"That's nice of you, dear."

Oliver glanced my way, smiling and shaking his head. I replied with a smug smile and a shrug.

"So where were you, Oliver?" Dad asked?

"Oh, I was at Josh's house playing video games, you know, that kind of stuff."

"You're still into that stuff? I thought you got out of that phase." Dad stopped fiddling with his tie and sat down beside me.

He just smiled mischievously. "There are just some games that I can't resist." I rolled my eyes. He definitely was not into video games; he was into partying. That's not something he would easily admit, not unless he was hardcore wasted, and that level was pretty was easy for him to get to. All you had to do was stick a beer in front of him and then he would do that rest. It was just that easy.

"Video games are boring, especially the ones you're into." I smiled. "Remote, please." I held out my hand, waiting for the remote to be placed on my hand.

Knowing that Dad was watching he handed the long, white remote over. I grinned at him and winked. I always got my way. He rolled his eyes, grip still tight as I grabbed for the remote. I glared at him and he just let go, smiling.

"What shall we watch?" I glanced at both my dad and my brother, and said, "CSI it is." before either one of them could open their mouths. With just one push of my finger the screen changed to my favorite show. I settled deeper into the couch, happy to be having my way, even if it was just for a little while.

"Dude, Raya, why can't you be like other girls and watch those stupid reality shows on Vh1?" Oliver was made that I had taken the remote from him by using our father. He considered that cheating. I got him pissed; my job was done for the day.

"Because," I turned my head to look at him. "I'm not like other girls, Olly." I batted my eyelashes, smiling wickedly as his cheeks turned a shade of pink on his light brown skin. He hated being called Olly, especially when his little sister called him that. Olly was only to be used by his girlfriends or his hook ups--and that occasional chance of my mother getting caught up in past memories and blurting, "Oh, Olly, remember how cute you were with your chubby cheeks!"

"Oh, really, Ray." Comeback. His brown eyes darkened. Those evil brown eyes.

He knew I didn't like to be called that. For god sakes Ray was a guy's name! No girl should be called that. It wasn't girly sounding enough, but Oliver certainly knew how to hit a soft spot.

"Yeah, Olly, really."

"Are you sure, Ray? Maybe that inner girl is still buried deep inside of you, waiting to be unleashed." Oliver's eyes narrowed, but he still had that evil smile on his face.

"Oh, you must be confused. Poor thing. I think it's the other way around. By the look of those jeans it seems to me that the girl in you is waiting to be unleashed." I laughed, eyes his jeans. They weren't super tight, but they were tight, he just sagged them a little.

Though I knew he would get mad at me for saying that. When anybody brought up his jeans and said they looked like girl pants he got defensive.

His eyes flashed, mouth open, ready to go off on me. My dad stopped Oliver from saying--yelling--anything at me. "Calm down you two. Raya, don't make fun of your brother about how he dresses." My dad gave me a stern look and then switched it to my brother. "You, Oliver, don't pester you sister about what she watches. Your sister is a girl, but she just likes to watch crime shows. Now, both of you just stay quiet and watch T.V."

My brother glanced at me, eyes baleful, and then turned his gaze on the screen. We both stayed quiet.

Oliver huffed every three minutes and kept asking what time it was. 'You have a phone, Oliver, put it to good use." My dad told him, calmly.

"I left it at Josh's house. I'm gonna pick it up later." Oliver looked at me. "What time is it, darling sister?"

I scoffed, pulled out my phone and looked back at him. "Four thirty."

He gave me a knowing look, which I understood clearly. Oliver was still going to make me go to that party. "Thank you."

"Welcome."

My brother kept on giving me these funny sates. I returned them, wondering what he wanted to tell me. What was so important that he couldn't just say it in front of Dad?

Our father noticed Oliver's weird facial expression, because the next thing he asked was, "Is your stomach bothering you?"

I burst out laughing, clutching my own stomach because I was laughing so hard.

"What's so funny, Raya? If your brother is in pain it is no laughing matter." My Dad's eyes turned serious.

I bit my lip. "Oh, yah. I forgot, Oliver in pain isn't funny."

Oliver looked at my dad, clutching his stomach, his voice filled with sudden pain. "Yeah, it does. I need to go to the bathroom." He attempted to get up, but fell down in the armchair. "I don't think I can make it."

"Did you eat something bad?" My Dad's voice was filled with worry.

"I think it was all that junk food I ate at Josh's house." He grimaced, clutching his stomach tighter.

"You are so foolish. Here, let me help you to the bathroom." Dad got up and started toward him.

"No, you just sit down. Raya, help me please." His eyes were pleading, but there was a stranger urgency in them.

"Sure." I watched my Dad back away, allowing room for both Oliver and I. I put my left arm under his right arm and over his back. Oliver clutched me tight with his right arm. Very slowly, we began to move past the living room and down the hall. The bathroom was the second door on the left. Awkwardly, I opened the door with my right arm, pushing Oliver to the side.

Once it was open, Oliver began to hobble inside. He let go of his grip on me and when Oliver got his posture straightened out, he grinned. "Shut the door. Hurry!"

I did as he said and closed the door shut behind me, locking it in case my father tried to check up on us,

"Aren't I a great actor?" Oliver hopped up on the countertop.

"You faker! And here I was the tiniest bit worried about you. So was Dad!" I folded my arms across my chest. "Jackass."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not a donkey." I rolled my eyes ay him. "Hey, come on, this was the only way I could get you alone without Dad hearing anything."

"You could have taken a different approach to this situation." I leaned against the counter on my side. My arms were still folded across my chest. "I'm waiting, Oliver."

Both hands went in front of me, to stop me from saying anything else. "You have to wait; I'm still thinking."

"About what?"

Two, solid brown eyes stared at me. "About how we're going to get to the party without setting off the sirens."

"Didn't you tell Dad you were going back to Josh's so you could pick up your phone?"

Stuffing his hand in his pocket, Oliver pulled out a black phone, waving it in my face as if I were blind.

"Okay, I get it." I slapped his arm away from my face. "You like lying to people, don't you?" It was a rhetorical question, because we both knew the answer, but he answered it anyway.

"Yes, I do. There's really no harm in it, Raya, they are just little white lies."

I coughed dryly. "If that's what you like to call them: '"little white lies" ." I put emphasis on the last three words.

Oliver jumped down from the counter, clearly annoyed with me. "That is exactly what they are called." He shook his head. "Hey! We are getting off subject here. So how we going to this?"

"Well you "white lie" would work out just fine. Tell them that you'll be staying overnight at his house. They'll believe that."

"So my plan is figured out, now what about yours? He tipped his head to the side, black hair spilling along with gravity. He stared blankly at me. I opened my mouth to say my idea, but he put his two stupid hands up, stopping me." Before you speak, I'll tell you my perfect idea. It is brilliant, genius in fact."

Hating to be interrupted, I shut my mouth and let him speak. "Proceed."

"This isn't a trial, Ray." He smiled, pushing his long, silky black hair to the left side of his eye.

"Don't call me that! Remember I know you don't like to be called Olli so don't call me Ray."

"Hey, Ray is such a fitting name for you."

"So is Olly for you." I waited, expecting him to launch in why I shouldn't call him that.

"Lets not get into this right now. We have bigger things to take care of." He set us on the right path again.

"I'm waiting for your genius idea."

His eyes got big and he wagged his finger at me. "Thank you for reminding me. Okay, so I was thinking you could call on of your friend and ask them if you could stay the night. But you need to tell Mom and Dad that you forgot about the big sleepover that was taking place tonight, and tell them it is really important to you. Though I think they will let you go easily with just the girls' night thing."

I stared at him, a slight smile on my face. "That is actually not a bad idea. Who knew you had a brain?" I joked. "I thought all that beer would have killed all those brain cells already."

Oliver fake laughed. "Ha ha ha. Very funny, Raya. I do appreciate the compliment though, despite all the other garbage you added."

"You're very welcome." I unfolded my arms, keeping eye level with Oliver. "Is that plan figured out now?"

"Yeah. I think I--I mean we figured out the plan. We're all set."

"So are you going to play sick again? Or should I got out first and let you come out a couple minutes later?" My hand was on the doorknob, waiting for his response.

"You should probably go out first, so I could stay I threw up." Oliver nodded.

I made a face. "Vomit? Good luck with that, big brother." But I could hear him exhaled sharply and then tell me that he would fake throwing up. I laughed a little, unlocked the door, slipped out quietly and closed the door behind me. Still staying as quiet as I could, I crept into the living room and came up behind the couch where my Dad was sitting. I was feeling mischievous, so I held my breath, and then put my hands on his shoulders. "BOO!"

He jumped and turned around. "Raya!" His eyes were wide, and he placed a hand over his eyes. "You scared me!" he whispered, breathlessly.

"Sorry, Dad." I apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you that bad."

"Ah, its fine, I know you were just having fun. I need a little scare every now and then." Regaining the color back in his face, he asked. "Is your brother okay?"

"He just wanted m to leave him there by himself. We got to the bathroom, I made sure he was okay and then he told me to leave him there."

"Good." he nodded, "that's great. He'll be fine, though he'll probably just throw up all that junk."

I made a face and went to go sit back down beside him, cuddling into his side. "Ew."

"It's a natural thing, Raya."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." A smile tugged at my lips.

"Besides your mother should be getting here soon. I'm positive her food will make him better."

I shrugged. "I guess." Though, I was pretty sure his food would be no help to him at all; it would probably just make him content. I didn't tell Dad that though.

"It will, just you wait and see."

"I'll be waiting for that then." I leaned over and tried to grab the remote from him. "You changed the channel." He was watching some cooking show.

"But I'm fascinated by how these people cook. It is amazing." His eyes were glued to the screen, his grip tight on the remote.

"They just love to cook; that's their hobby, but it is not yours, Dad. You r hobby is reading on spare time." I tugged at the remote. "Come on, give it here."

"No. It's addicting."

My laughed echoed in the living room. "Go watch it in your room and let me watch my show."

"But you always watch CSI and I deal with cases like that every day. Now let me have one day of escape from all the madness." The grip on the remote stayed strong and I surrendered by both his words and strength.

"Fine, fine. You win this time." I turned to the screen, getting hungry as I watched the cook make some delicious looking food. My stomach growled and I looked down, embarrassed.

"Was that you, Raya?" My father turned his head toward him, eyes slightly big.

I blushed. "Yeah."

"Is it because of the show?" He was laughing.

"Aw, Dad! It's not funny; I'm hungry. Watching this isn't helping my hunger keep at bay either."

His arm was draped over my shoulder and he gave my shoulder a tight squeeze. "Blame your mother for not getting here fast enough."

"I'll do that." I placed my hands on my stomach, fiddling with my fingers. "Did you know what mom was making?" The hunger kept gnawing at my stomach.

"It's a surprise. She wouldn't tell me."

"Eh, well I hope she will get the dinner ready fast."

"Pumpkin, she'll be here. Just try to keep your mind off of food for about another hour."

I looked at him, "Oh, yeah, Dad. Keeping my mind off food for another hour is going to be so easy." I pointed at the T.V. "Look what's on."

He shrugged a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, love."

I sighed. "No worries, I'll be fine."

"Thatta girl." Dad shook my shoulders briefly.

The sound of feet shuffling came to my ears. I shifted on the couch and twisted to look at the beginning of the hallway where Oliver came walking slowly. He was a pretty convincing actor, which even surprised me. "Hm."

"What is it, Raya?"

I flicked my head in the direction of Oliver.

My dad turned and watched as Oliver shuffled toward us, clutching his stomach. "Are you okay, Oliver?"

Oliver didn't bother to answer his question right away; He moved to the armchair and slumped down, brown eyes flicking to the side, watching us. "Yeah. I just threw up."

"That's good; you got all that junk out of your system." Dad made himself comfortable once again. "And there is nothing else that is bothering you? Do you have a headache or do you have a fever?"

My brother's eyes closed and he shook his head. "No, no. I feel better now. It was just the junk food, but now it is gone, so I'm much better."

Dad slowly nodded his head. "Just double-checking. Your mother is probably going to make you take some medicine pills."

My nose scrunched up. Our mom made us take these big pills that were the size of a quarter. They hurt going down the throat and I felt sorry that Oliver decided to play sick. My mom knew we didn't like to take the pills when we were little so she would stay in the kitchen with us until we agreed gloomily to swallow the pills. No doubt that our mom would do the same with us now, even though we were both sixteen. I know I hated the pills, but I absolutely hated drinking the liquid medicine; it made me want to puke, so I would rather take pills than liquid anytime. I wasn't so sure what Oliver preferred though.

Oliver's eyes widened, he clearly didn't like the idea of quarter sized pills going down his throat. I could only keep from laughing out loud by lightly biting my tongue.

"Do I have to take the pills?" Oliver asked my father.

Dad turned his face so that he was staring at my brother. "Ask your mother that, but it's either the pills or the liquid medicine, take your pick."

He made a face when dad brought up the liquids. "Nah, I'd rather take the pills." Great. We shared the same taste in medicine.

"I feel sorry for you, brother."

"Me too, sis."

"Hey, its medicine and the medicine helps you guys get better when you're sick." Both dad and I looked at Oliver, but dad was annoyed, I could tell. My dad got easily annoyed too much.

"I know, Dad, but don't you remember how big those pills are? Because if you don't, I surely do."

"You should have thought of that before you decided to pig out on junk food." Dad turned back toward the television screen.

"I--It was a onetime thing!" Oliver said, trying to get out of taking the pills. I knew he was flustered because he had to take the pills when he wasn't even really sick. And he made things worse by pretending to throw up. Well, he just had to man up and take the pills.

"Just stop fighting it, Oliver. You're going to have to just take them."

"You're one to talk, Raya. You don't even have to take them!" I narrowed my eyes at him. What the hell was his problem?

"Hold up you two. Don't try to start fighting again. Oliver, you know you are going to have to take the pills, so stop complaining."

"Alright." he grumbled, focusing his attention on the cooking show. Oliver looked back at both me and dad. "What are we even watching?"

I answered before my dad could. "Food Network."

"Dad, why don't you change the channel?" Oliver clasped his hands together and put them behind his head. "This is making me hungry."

"See, Dad!" I nudged him with my right elbow. "Isn't it making you hungry, too?"

"A little."

Oliver kicked his feet up on the footstool, leaning back into the armchair, relaxed. "Then change it; this is torture."

Dad glanced at him. "You seem pretty relaxed for someone who just threw up."

His shoulder went up in a shrug. "I feel lighter now." He smiled. "Plus, now that my stomach is empty I'd like to fill it up again."

"That's unusual, but then, you are you. Which means you are a mystery, even to me--your own father."

There it was again, that grin that Oliver loved to use on the girls he wanted to hook up with. "I love being mysterious." If I could, I'd call him a very mysterious person, but I had found something else to call him behind his back. Man-whore. The name suited him very well.

Hands reached up to pull off his glasses. "Just make sure your mysteriousness doesn't get you in trouble." Too late, Oliver had crossed that line already.

"Me? Get in trouble?" He tried to sound innocent. "Don't you trust me? Remember it wasn't me who got into a fight."

I would have attacked Oliver right then and there if our dad wasn't sitting right next to me. I glared at him, shaking my head slowly, letting him know he had just crossed the line between us.

"Hm." My father put his glasses back on. "You've gotten in trouble before Oliver. I do trust you, but sometimes you abuse my trust in you." Dad's arm held on tight to me. "Raya just made a bad decision."

The house exploded with Oliver's laughter. "A bad decision?! What about the lawsuit!"

"But we got her out of it. The past is the past." I knew my dad was trying to defend me from my brother's comments. In my dad's mind I was still his little girl that liked to sing 'I love you' every time he got back from work. I was Daddy's Little Girl--I still was Daddy's Little Girl.

Oliver waved off dad's words. "Yeah, we all know Raya is a Daddy's Girl. That's why you'd do anything to help her."

Dad shook his head, getting angry and annoyed with my brother. "Do you think I'd do anything to just help her? I'd do anything to help you, Raya, and Corinne."

I, myself, was getting pissed off at my twin's cheekiness. "Shut up, Oliver! What the hell is up with you?"

He put up his hands, pretending to be scared. "Oooh! Raya is mad now. What? You going to beat me up? Will you break my nose like you did to that girl?"

"Oliver, stop this now." Dad was staring at Oliver with those scary eyes that said don't-go-any-farther.

But he did. "You know what? I bet you can't even beat me up."

"Oh, really, Oliver?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to bet your backpack on it?"

He stared at me dangerously. "No."

"Then shut up or I will break your nose. You have no idea what even happened since you weren't there! Oh, but where were you?" My hands curled into tight balls. "After I break your nose we'll see how many girls like you after that."

"Whatever, Raya." Oliver pulled his backpack toward him.

I knew dad wanted to say something, but he let it go. All the chaos was put to rest--for now.

I exhaled sharply, folding my arms tightly across my chest. I didn't understand my brother sometimes. There were times where he was nice and easy to get along with--like this morning--but there were times when he was such an ass. I swear my brother was bipolar.

I love him, and then I hate him. That's how I felt about Oliver, and I was sure he felt the same way about me too.

A couple minutes later the doorbell rang and I got up to answer it. My mom and little sister Corinne hurried into the condo with plastic bags.

"Who's hungry?" My mom held up the bags and smiled.