Author's Note: This is an old story I used to post at . I'm trying to revive it so I'm posting it here. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter One - Accelerate.

She saunters down the stairs with great ease. She's faultless. The perfect combination of both her parents. Wavy, long hair bounces around her immaculate face with every step she takes. Her posture determined, head erect, blue eyes blazing, scanning the living room for one particular individual.

She's still upset.

Earlier that day, she had gotten in a heated argument with her mother, the same one that has happened countless times. The dispute ended with the teenager stomping up the staircase yelling obscenities and insults at her old lady.

That was three hours ago.

She had self-secured herself in her room. Frustration had gotten the best of her and she turned to her iPod for release. Blasting the infamous 'don't-fuck-with-me' playlist through the speakers, she began bobbing her head to the beat and sang along with the words already sketched into her brain.

This is beginning to become some vapid routine.

And still, that thought did not stop her. Instead, she screamed harder along with the music, arms suddenly mimicked the words being heard. Pillows hit the floor. Blankets were tossed into the air. Fists pounded into the walls. Miscellaneous items found new homes. The point was to make as much racket as humanly possible. When she was done, that point was certainly made.

But, even as a young, lively teenager, exhaustion was powerful enough to fight against her. Amongst all the rubbish, the beautiful blue-eyed girl laid herself down to stare at her vacant ceiling, the only thing untouched by her previous rampage.

She only wants to help, yeah that's what she says. But, that's what she always says! It's getting fucking repetitive. The embarrassment department in my body can tolerate so much. Ah, I regress…she is my mother. I love her. Plus, I still need that favor…

With that she got up, grabbed her journal, and traveled downstairs.

She spotted her target right away. Her mother was situated on the couch, one foot resting on the floor, the other positioned under her. She had her reading glasses on and was leaning over the armrest, gazing over papers. Her eyes stayed fixated on these documents, even when her daughter came stomping into the room.

The feisty teenager took a seat directly in front of her mother with a loud thud. The middle-aged woman appeared not to notice. Next tactic: an exaggerated sigh; still no reaction.

Annoyed and out of ideas, the young girl shrieked, "MOM!"

With a smile as fake as the boobs on Pamela Anderson's chest, the wise woman lifted her head and said, "Yes honey, did you want something?" There was a dangerous glare in her eye.

Seems like she was still upset too.

"We're both mad…clearly you agree. But we've had this 'make-up' discussion so many times before. Let's skip it this time. You love me and you're sorry. I love you and I'm sorry for the way I reacted. Sums it up. And now, I need to ask you a favor."

"And what's that? Clean the mess you just created in your room."

The young girl rolled her eyes, "No…well yes, but not only that. As you already know, I'm taking philosophy with Mr. Portman. Our final paper consists of writing about one of the most overexposed subjects…love. We are required to write about the greatest love we've ever witnessed. Many of my colleagues are writing about romantic affairs they've read in a book or seen in a movie or whatnot. But, I'm trying to break the mold, I actually want this paper to be accurate. And the greatest love I've ever witnessed has been between you and…well, you and Ma."

She stopped there and looked up to see her mother's eyes that matched her own. That unique shade of blue. The two women, they were almost identical looking at each other the way they were. Except, Johnnie had full luscious brown hair, while Spencer was a dazzling blonde.

Yes, Johnnie Rae Carlin-Davies. 50 percent: Davies attitude, fashion sense, hair, and nose wrinkle; 50 percent: Carlin intellect, compassion, head-tilt, and stunning blue eyes. Yeah, don't worry, other people drool over her too. Spencer and Ashley had produced quite the little girl.

Fact was, though, she wasn't a little girl anymore. Just as fast as love can hit you, this realization hit Spencer. Johnnie was never the one to show a 'soft-side.' When she did, oh, you noticed. Everybody within a five-mile radius noticed. It was powerful.

My goodness, she's just like Ashley, Mrs. Carlin-Davies thought. As any other mother thinking about their offspring growing up, Spencer felt a wetness in her eye, tears barely on the edge of streaming down her face.

"Awww Mom, don't get all sappy on me."

And, just like that, the moment was gone.

The brunette continued, "I've never actually heard the complete story between you and Ma. It'll be interesting, I'm sure, and furthermore it will help me get an A," she finished with a smile.

"Are you sure Jo? It's a really long story."

"Well, I'm supposed to include examples, so…tell me all that you can remember. I know your memory is fading."

"Excuse me?!"

"Face it Mom, you're getting old."

Not able to keep a stern face at such a witty comment, Spencer giggled, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Alright Mom, reminisce away."