CAIRO, EGYPT – 10:06 P.M. – AUG. 2, THURS.
"Again?"
The shriek pierced through Gaara's walls, overcoming the blaring metal in his ears. Misty blue eyes darted up to glance at the door that blocked off the world from his haven, and as he contemplated the idea of seeing what the commotion was, the music suddenly cut off. He growled inwardly, glaring at the iPod in his hands, battery dead now, exhausted from its extensive use. Shaking his head with a disgusted scoff, he tugged the earplugs from his ears and stalked to his charger, hooking up the small piece of machinery before turning back to the securely locked door he hated.
Silently, he slipped from his room and crept halfway downstairs; kneeling at the place where he could just catch a glimpse of the living room if he knelt on one knee. It was the perfect place for eavesdropping when somebody wanted to keep things from him, which was just about always. He glanced down and saw who had started the commotion: Temari.
Hands on her hips, his sister was glowering accusingly at Yashamaru, their legal guardian and uncle. It had been her who had screamed before, and there were only a couple guesses why. Gaara remained unmoving as his spunky older sister advanced on his hated uncle with little physical action, only words.
"God, Yashamaru!" she yelled, letting her hands fall so they could fist tightly at her sides. "This is getting to be absolutely ridiculous! Have you no will power at all?"
"How many times are you going to make us move, huh?" the brunette beside her questioned, though it was clear he wasn't seeking an answer.
Kankuro was always trying to get that edge of authority that Temari usually claimed for herself. He was the second born, and though he was never happy with it, he still got his fair share of bossing Gaara around whenever he could. Now, though, Gaara felt his brow furrow as his mind registered Kankuro's words.
"I apologize Temari, Kankuro," Yashamaru tried again, but Gaara could tell that he was getting nowhere. "But this is very urgent! My job is forcing me – I mean us – to move again. It's for the better, trust me!"
"That's what you said last time," Temari reminded him. She looked so pissed, Gaara almost expected her to snarl and rip off that pretty blonde head. "And look where this place got us!"
"I agree, Temari, but this will definitely be the last time we move!" Yashamaru claimed, hands rising in self-defense.
"Right, and that's what you said the time before last," Kankuro snorted, shaking his head pitifully at Yashamaru.
"All right, look," Yashamaru ordered, straightening his shoulders and standing a little taller. Gaara watched, noticing the posture as his "authority stance." This would be the time where he'd stand up for himself and his lame excuses "I may not be your father, but I'm certainly in charge of this household. If I say we're moving, there's no argument about it, got it? Plus, Gaara's been getting into way too much trouble here. It's about time we moved anyway."
"Don't bring Gaara into this!" Temari growled, taking a step towards Yashamaru as she jabbed a finger in his direction. "He's my little brother – your nephew – and I'm not just going to let you blame this move on him! Cut the shit and give a good reason to why we're moving!"
"Watch your language!" Yashamaru yelled, and Kankuro chuckled under his breath.
"No!" Temari said, crossing her arms and quirking an eyebrow at her uncle. "I can speak however I want!"
"Not in my house," Yashamaru disagreed, smirking at her like a true evil parent.
"Technically, this is the government's house," Temari retorted with the fakest sweet smile Gaara had seen her put up yet. The sarcasm didn't go well with Yashamaru, but he let it slide and brought up the other topic in her claim.
"Exactly," Yashamaru said, running a hand through his hair. "If they want us out, then there's nothing I can do about, so don't put this on me. This is my job, all right?"
"Get a new one," Kankuro suggested, attempting to ignore the look of idiocy Yashamaru gave him.
"I can't just quit being involved with the government, and you both know that," he said. Gaara mentally noted how no one had even thought of coming to get him yet. Didn't he have the right to know that they were moving? And then his name was in the conversation again. "Just like I can't stop being any of your guardians. Would you want me to just drop out on you guys? You try dealing with Gaara for a week and see how it feels."
Gaara gritted his teeth together, seething with fury as his uncle spoke of him so casually. He was the burden of the family, sure, but what gave that disgrace the right to talk about him in such a disrespectful way? Fingers curling into quivering fists, Gaara took a deep breath, trying to smother his anger with something else, but could find nothing to hold it down.
"What's that mean?" Temari asked, her irritation peeking once again. "Stop talking about Gaara like that. He's not a piece of trash, so you don't have to treat him like one, even if you don't love him like you should! I mean, it's not like you ever have."
Gaara twitched, sucking in another breath to calm himself, but it only wracked up and down his body, making it jerk unnaturally on the staircase. He finally regained his composure and was able to turn his attention back on the conversation.
"Drop it, Tem," Kankuro warned, placing a large hand on Temari's shoulder. She let out a huff, but retreated for now, not letting her flaming eyes leave Yashamaru's worried ones. "Look, Yashamaru, why don't we make you a deal, huh?"
Yashamaru was quiet for a short while before raising an eyebrow and crossing him arms, a small, "I'm listening," escaping into the air.
"How about…" Kankuro paused, thinking over his choice of words carefully so he got it right the first time. "If we make sure Gaara keeps his grades up and stays out of trouble for the next two years, we don't move again."
"Why two?" Temari asked, looking at her brother. Gaara noticed she probably knew the answer already – she just didn't want to believe her brother was suggesting it. He felt his heart drop.
"Well, you graduate this year," Kankuro explained, shrugging as if this were just a normal business deal. Gaara did not doubt that this was exactly what it was to those disgusting people. "And I will next year. Then Gaara really is all yours." He had turned back to Yashamaru for the last part, but Temari recaptured his attention by smacking him hard in the chest.
"We can't just ditch Gaara because we graduate!" Temari scolded, stepping away from her brother with horror written on her features.
Gaara figured she should be used to it by now – he was. This was the point in the discussion where Temari and Kankuro divided in agreement, breaking up so it became a three-way battle instead of two-on-one. He watched wearily as Kankuro rolled his eyes.
"Why not?" he scoffed, shaking his head at her as if she should have realized something long ago. "He's just a spoiled brat. It's not like we can do anything for him, so stop acting like he's some angel, Temari. I think we can all agree that he's not."
"He's your brother," Temari whispered disbelievingly, looking at Kankuro in a state of betrayal and shock.
"It's not like he cares," Kankuro muttered, and Gaara felt his blood boil.
That bastard didn't think he cared? Well, what exactly was he supposed to care about? Was he supposed to be thankful for the loving, kind family that some figure "god" had put him in? Yeah right. Like there could be any god. If there was, then Gaara owed him nothing. He owed nothing to anyone.
"I'll consider that," Yashamaru said with a nod, bringing his forefinger and thumb to his chin in thought. "Yes, I think I could manage that somehow. I could arrange that with my boss, but only if you can keep him under control."
Under control? They spoke of him as if he were a dog with rabies. Gaara felt a lump build in his throat, making it hard to breath, to swallow. What was he to them? He laughed inwardly at the question, the answer coming to his mind at once: a monster. That was all he was. He was not loved or respected – he was just something they had to take care of until they could let him drop, free from their responsibilities.
Gaara listened to the eerie silence that proceeded Yashamaru's words, how they all contemplated their decision, the actual dedication they would have to make to him. But no, not because they wanted the best for him – just so they wouldn't be inconvenienced any further. They were not a family, just a group of people stuck together because of the blood they all shared – Kankuro and Temari were siblings, Yashamaru was their guardian by law, and Gaara was a mistake.
"Whatever," Temari said, scowling at the idea, but Gaara could just picture her thinking of all the ways she could tie him to the leash, rein him in so he would not screw up her senior year.
"Good," Kankuro said with a nod, and Gaara knew that his older brother could not be feeling more smug than Gaara felt sick.
"Right then," Yashamaru said, wiping the sweat on his palms away on his slacks. A nervous smile was all it took to lighten the tension in the room.
Gaara's eyes narrowed as the atmosphere lightened, immediately disliking how everyone else had a reason to be happy, to smile. Smirking to himself for a couple seconds, he stood, took four more steps down and then leaned over the railing, glaring evilly at the three staring at him in surprise and horror. He knew what they were thinking: "How much did he hear?" Everything. His gaze locked with Yashamaru's wide-eyed one, and his smirk grew, the lines contorting the youth of his face.
"You forgot to tell us where we're headed."
CAIRO, EGYPT – 10:59 P.M. – AUG. 2, THURS.
Gaara slumped against the window pane, releasing the breath he had forgotten he had been holding. Air filled his lungs all at once, and he growled to himself, hating how the dull throb still remained in his chest. It was that stupid little flame that kept dwindling down to a little flicker, just about to blow away forever, and then it would flare to life again. The slightest thing would kindle the fire, and Gaara hated how vulnerable it made him feel – it made him angry, infuriated at the entire world for what it did to him.
Shoving the black earplugs into his ears, Gaara randomly scrolled through his songs with little interest in what he was doing. How could they just use him like this? He was so unappreciated; as if he were a tool, ready to be used whenever he could come in handy, but not good enough for anything else, to keep.
Every once and a while, Temari tried to take his side, to defend him just a little, but it was not because she loved him. Gaara knew that something so miraculous as that was not even possible – no one could love him. She only did it so she could think of herself as a better person, so she could stand up and be proud of herself for such a pointless thing as faking affection. It had been all too easy to persuade her the other way when Yashamaru had promised her a move-free senior year.
Music filled his ears in a sudden blast of guitar – "Me Against The World" by Simple Plan. It seemed to fit the moment, if anything else, and Gaara was feeling more than rebellious. They thought he had gotten into trouble before? Just wait until his siblings saw what they would get for using him like some little puppet! He had no strings, and he was sure as hell going to make sure they knew before a month's time.
Ignoring how the music's volume created a dull ache in his ears, Gaara scowled, realizing just how much he hated the world for the way it treated him. It did not matter who it was, everyone treated him the exact same way: relatives, teachers, classmates, and even strangers he had never seen before. Everyone gave him the same look. Everyone said he did not belong. Everyone felt the same way, and made sure he knew, except Yashamaru, of course.
"We're not gonna be just a part of their game.
We're not gonna be just the victims.
They're takin' our dreams,
And they tear them apart,
'Til everyone' s the same."
At first, he had been kind and sweet, the only person Gaara had ever looked to for comfort and help. The words and actions he'd used to address or speak to Gaara were never less than friendly and loving. As Gaara grew up, it became more and more evident just how many people did not care about him, including his father. Once he had figured this out, he had thought of Yashamaru as a shelter to stand under when the world pelted him with storms of fury and hatred, the only one that could get rid of the hurt for just a little while.
"I've got no place to go.
I've got nowhere to run.
They love to watch me fall.
They think they know it all."
However, when Gaara was but six years old, he had overheard his father and uncle conversing in the kitchen. He had planned to simply ignore it, as he had been taught how rude it was to eavesdrop – then he heard his name. As he got closer, he heard more of the painful words Yashamaru was speaking. Gaara closed his eyes, remembering each cruel thing he had come to know as the truth in this horrible world.
"I'm a nightmare,
A disaster.
That's what they always said.
I'm a lost cause,
Not a hero.
But I'll make it on my own.
I've gotta prove them wrong.
Me against the world.
It's me against the world."
It was from that moment on that Gaara was positive no one loved him. It was something one could not deny, a proven fact when it came to Gaara mixing with anyone else – he was un-loveable. In return to the favor life had presented him with, Gaara loved not a soul back. They did not deserve it. He loved only himself, the disturbed young man he had become. Isolated and lonely, he shunned the world just as it had always spurned him. He would have nothing of these bonds of supposed love, the ones that tore you down the moment you put your faith in them.
"We won't let them change how,
We feel in our hearts.
We're not gonna let them control us.
We won't let them shove,
All their thoughts in our heads.
And will never be like them."
Growling to himself through bared teeth, Gaara opened his eyes to gaze past the glass his body was leaning against. Upon instinct, he began searching the swirling winds of sand, the rolling, shifting waves of light, grainy land. The silver moon reflecting rays of light from what could only be that place called heaven gave the desert its nighttime bluish tint, that eerie dark azure – it had become Gaara's favorite color. This was his favorite view of the desert they lived in, the ultimate reason he did not want to move.
"I've got no place to go.
I've got nowhere to run.
They love to watch me fall.
They think they know it all."
This was his only sanctuary, the window seat in his room, so close to the world he hated, and so far away when he drifted off into another life. Every night, it was here that he calmed his hazardous emotions, and it was here that he thought when he needed an answer. Moving meant he would have to leave this inner peace that he had only just found behind him, never to see it again. He rested here, actually felt comfortable here. The sand was his relaxation, and the moon was his aide. Gaara always had good luck when the moon was complete, rounded circle in the starry night sky. Of course, tonight it was just a sliver of white.
"I'm a nightmare,
A disaster.
That's what they always said.
I'm a lost cause,
Not a hero.
But I'll make it on my own.
I've gotta prove them wrong.
It's me against the world.
Me against the world."
A sigh escaped his lips roughly, his deep voice making it come out more harshly than he planned, but he did not care. He turned his thoughts to the problem at hand, and gazed up at the illuminated orb he called a friend. Since they were moving, Temari would have been the one to tell him the news – Yashamaru hated him and Kankuro was too irritable around him – but because he knew, he assumed she would come up anyway. To tell him to behave. Like a good boy. She was the peacemaker, so the job came easily to her.
"Now I'm sick of this waiting,
So come on and take your shot."
She would begin by apologizing that they had not come to get him, that he had had to hear the argument from their side and not his own. She would try to get on his good side again, make sure she was not one of the ones he held a grudge against. As soon as she was done with that, she would tell him that cooperating with Yashamaru would be for the best – he knew what he was doing – even if she had been screaming at him just half an hour ago.
"You can spit all your insults,
But nothing you say's gonna change us."
Next would come a small lecture on growing up and being a little more serious. How he should be fair about this and not put it on anyone else – he had his fair share of mistakes, too. Gaara felt his fists tightened, squeezing his iPod harder, at the thought of being compared to any of the despicable monsters in this house.
"You can sit there and judge me,
Say what you want to,
We'll never let you in."
And then would come the usual talk Gaara had to go through more than the usual kid. She would talk about how they were moving, and he would have to try to make the best of it, be who he knew he should be. Gaara snorted, a small growl-like sound erupting from his throat. She could not tell him to try to do anything. He should not be anything. He was himself. That was it. If no one else loved him, oh well. He could just love himself. The "talk" was not his favorite time of the year, but Gaara had it at least three times ever twelve months, and it was not about puberty or hormones. No, someone would die for speaking to him about something as unimportant as that.
"I'm a nightmare,
A disaster.
That's what they always said.
I'm a lost cause,
Not a hero.
But I'll make it on my own.
Me against the world."
He had stop counting after hearing it fourteen times and it was the same thing every time.
"I'm a nightmare,
A disaster.
That's what they always said.
I'm a lost cause,
Not a hero.
But I'll make it on my own."
The difficulties of moving with Gaara.
"I've gotta prove them wrong."
Again.
"They'll never bring us down."
And again.
"We'll never fall in line."
And again.
"I'll make it on my own."
And again.
"Me against the world."
The knock came at the perfect time.
Rolling his eyes with an irritated sound similar to a dog's snarl, he turned his iPod off and moved away from the window seat. His hand grasped the handle and he yanked it open firmly, surprised teal eyes meeting his in the hallway.
"What?" he hissed, glaring at his older sister. She looked almost scared by the way she held her posture.
"Can I come in for a minute?" she asked, and Gaara glowered.
"No," he said, crossing his arms. "Hurry up and you should be fine out there."
She hesitated, and he took the opportunity to slam the door in her face, or at least try to. He twisted his face in rage when she caught it and gave him an apologetic look.
"Look, I'm sorry," she said, and then hurried to explain. "We didn't mean to keep anything from you. I was going to come tell you as soon as we were done, and I'm sorry about Kankuro. What he said was awful."
"You know I'm used to it," Gaara sneered, and attempted to shut the door again. "Get out of my way!"
"Please calm down," Temari pleaded, offering a hopeful smile. He glared at her once more before swinging the door open and shoving her back into the hallway. She stumbled back a little before sighing and saying, "Gaara, please grow up!"
"Take your own advice," Gaara suggested, slamming the door shut with a bang. She persisted, though, shouting through the door.
"You know you shouldn't be acting like this!" she scolded. "This is completely unacceptable, and if you don't at least try to help out a little, then you're going to grow up old and lonely."
"So I'll be old," Gaara snarled back. "That's one difference. Not so much of a loss."
"Stop acting like that!" Temari yelled, kicking the door in pure frustration. "You're being selfish and spoiled! Start acting your age! At least try for ten! I know a lot of people don't treat you right, but that doesn't mean you can be a total jerk to us, too! We're your family, so be a part of it and stop feeling sorry for yourself!"
"Go away before I hurt you," Gaara warned angrily, locking his door and receding back to his window. He turned up the volume before she could say anything else.
CAPE CARTERET, NORTH CAROLINA – 5:45 P.M. – SEPT. 14, FRI.
The words still burned in her mind, not for their meaning, but for the fact that she had not been the one to say them. Streaks of dried tears stained her flushed cheeks, the skin around her eyes and lips puffy and swollen. A small hiccupping noise rocketed through her, triggering that part of her that wanted to bawl her eyes out, though she had been doing so for the past hour. He was absolutely heartless; how could he do this to her?
Why would he do something so absurd and undeniably dumb? Was she not good enough for his stupid, mindless perfection? What a jerk!
The knock on her door awakened her from her inner ranting, and she wiped her nose sloppily with the back of her hand as she stumbled away from the couch. Opening the door, Ino found herself looking into two pairs of eyes – one a deep chocolate brown, the other a bright emerald green. Her bottom lip trembled once at the sight of her two best friends, and her façade crumbled immediately. Face contorting with the pain inside her, she nearly collapsed in a tiny ball of tears in the doorway.
"He broke up with me!" she wailed miserably, falling limp even as two pairs of strong arms pulled her back to the couch. When they reached the soft, leather cushions, they let her fall into a pile of sorrow and self-pity, as usual.
"We're so sorry," Tenten said, stroking the back of her head momentarily before moving away as if she had thought of something. Sakura on the other hand wasted no time trying to comfort Ino, moving immediately to what she knew would cure her broken ego.
"He wasn't a good boyfriend anyway," she said, nodding in confirmation.
"Really, I don't even know what you saw in that guy," Tenten said, shaking her head and handing her a box of tissues. Ino took them gratefully, blowing her nose seconds later.
"But he broke up with me!" Ino shrieked, hitting her feeble fists on her knees repeatedly, letting out multiple whimpers of anguish. Why did they not understand? How could they be so dense? "Don't you get it? How could he possibly do that? It's not fair!"
"Oh…" Sakura seemed at a loss for words, and when she glanced to Tenten for help, Ino saw her shrug hopelessly. "Maybe it was just a trick…"
"No!" Ino yelled, shaking her head furiously. Her usually glorious blonde hair was now an untidy mess of tangles and frizz as it bobbed around her head. Tenten skillfully swiped a strand of it away from her face so it would not stick to the tears wetting her face and clipped it back for her. "Why would he break up with me at all?"
"I don't know…"
"Maybe he thought he was holding you back or something…?" Tenten's guess was immediately shot down by an angry glare from Sakura, whose look told her to definitely keep her suggestions to herself. Ino felt a giggle rise inside her, especially when an evil gleam lit up Tenten's dark brown eyes. "If you want, I could ask Nej-Nej to go kick his ass for you. You know he would if I told him to, and can you imagine the look on that loser's face when his head ends up in a toilet just for breaking up with you?"
Before Ino could find the words to respond, Sakura had doubled over in a fit of insane laughter, clutching her sides so hard she had to collapse on the couch beside her blonde friend so she would not fall to the floor. Not able to help herself, Ino also began to giggle, small hiccups that quickly became hysterics as crazy as Sakura's. Soon, all three of them were laughing loudly, holding onto each other for dear life as if they could die of it. After a couple of minutes, Ino was able to sit up and look at Tenten disbelievingly.
"Does he let you call him that?" she asked, using her thumb to swipe at the tears of laughter that had sprung to her eyes.
"Nej-Nej?" Sakura repeated, and when more giggles erupted from her throat, she grinned and covered her mouth with a pillow to stifle the sound.
"Of course," Tenten said with a proud look of triumph in her smile. "I've got him wrapped around my little finger. I could call him whatever I wanted and he'd let me get away with it. Plus, I think it symbolizes our relationship. You know…Tenten…Nej-Nej… It's fitting."
"Somehow I doubt he agrees," Ino scoffed, shaking her head and pulling her feet up under her in a cross-legged position. It was easy to forget about her issues with her best friends around.
"But you are right," Sakura said with a taunting smirk that Ino knew Tenten would hate, "It symbolizes a whole lot more then you know."
"Whatever," Tenten snorted. She threw a pillow at Sakura, who squeaked and ducked behind Ino. It hit her in the side of the head, and she sent merely a half-hearted glare at Tenten – normally, the brunette would have gotten an earful for messing up her hair…but Ino decided that it really didn't matter today.
"Cut it out, guys," she murmured with a crooked smile, nudging a vase on the glass coffee table in front of her with her manicured finger. "Remember when we almost broke that one-of-a-kind sculpture from Italy my dad got on his fourth anniversary with my mom?"
"Dude, he would've flipped so bad," Sakura said, eyes going wide in muted horror. "No joke."
"Well, what do you say?" Tenten said, reverting back to the most important subject at hand. "Need me to call Neji up and see if he'll help out? Straighten out Mister Too-Good-For-Anyone so he knows his place?"
"Come on, Ino," Sakura said, giving her an encouraging look. "It would be fun to see him the next day. He's a loser and he should–"
"Stay a loser," Ino finished for her, and both friends exchanged an uneasy glance at the sly grin that broke out on her face.
Both Tenten and Sakura watched as Ino lifted herself from the couch and stumbled over to her purse, lacking the normal grace she always possessed on her better days. She unzipped the top of her Prada bag and pushed some of the items inside around for a bit before pulling out a rhinestone-covered cell phone. Flipping it open, Ino quickly found the number she needed and gave the digits a smirk.
"Oh yeah," Ino said with a small nod. She pressed the send button and put it to her ear, hugging herself and blocking out everything but the heavenly sounds of ringing on the other line. "That freak is going to wish he'd never even asked me out. He'll go through hell before I can even get to him."
RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA – 11:23 P.M. – SEPT. 14, FRI.
Gaara had lost count of the hours they had been traveling by the time they stumbled off the plane and piled into the cab waiting for them at the airport in America. His iPod had long since been dead and Kankuro had been snoring for the past hour, hardly a distracting feature when compared to the anxious way his uncle would not stop looking at him. There were moments he wished he could just blow his own brains out, or better yet Yashamaru's, but he held it all in, expression blank and his posture limp. It had been a while since he had found it impossible to sleep, but the fact that just a few days ago he had been on the other side of the world made his insomnia come back to haunt him.
With nothing better to do, he watched what was going on outside, taking in the sights as best as he could through a vision blurred with anxiety and tiredness. Buildings of solid brick and concrete lined the streets in varying sizes and markets – bigger than Cairo yet smaller than Rome. People who dotted the sidewalks were dressed in everything from tourist attire to skimpy fishnets and rags for clothing, ranging from geek to slut in just a couple of feet.
America was a strange country.
For one, everyone here drove cars, which he supposed was not too bad if it were not for the fact that half of the population could not drive to save their lives - literally. Four times already, drunken teenagers and old men about to fall asleep had caused moments of high tension, swerving out of control along the highway. In Japan, most people just rode bikes to where they needed to go. In India, the barefooted, calloused feet of the marketplaces and towns filled the streets more than the hand-pulled carts did. Those in Egypt hardly fathomed the luxuries of having cars of their very own to drive.
Hence the lack of fat people in the east, whereas in America…
Even in the more suave countries, like Italy or Spain, cars and high-priced gas was not an issue. Mopeds were more common than anything on four wheels, and walking had never been a problem for any of those people. America was lazy. And stupid.
Why would anyone with brains run out in the middle of a four-lane highway intersection in the hopes of getting to the other side without being run over by the big ass sixteen-wheeler blaring their horn ten feet away?
Or, as Gaara had witnessed, pull up their shirt on the side of the rode to distract the hundreds of full-grown, married men trying to get home to their families in the hopes of making a little dishonest cash?
How fucking annoying.
"Stop looking so gloomy," Yashamaru scolded lightly, but Gaara turned his hate-rays to full power for his uncle, the most despised member of the family now. "I'm sure you'll like America. People say it's a good country."
"People also say dreams come true," Gaara growled, and Temari snickered at his side.
"Oh hush," Yashamaru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Stop being so dramatic. It won't be that bad."
"No one sees you celebrating," Temari pointed out, crossing her arms with a huff and falling back into her seat. She shifted to get into a more comfortable position and failed with a long, slow sigh.
"Watch it, Temari," Yashamaru warned, but Temari only stuck her tongue out at him with a tiny shake of her head. "You all need to be on your best behavior. One of these days, someone isn't going to want to put up with it."
"Sure," Gaara breathed.
"Whatever," Temari snorted.
"What?" Kankuro started in his seat, blinking his eyes awake. Gaara ignored him while Temari gave him a look asking what the hell his problem was, a smack in the head a bonus.
"Why don't you listen to some music or something?" Yashamaru suggested.
"My iPod is dead," Gaara retorted with a glare.
"How can an iPod be 'dead'?" Kankuro asked, cocking his head to the side in serious contemplation. Yashamaru blinked a couple of times before realizing his nephew was not kidding, just as Temari shifted to hit him in the head again.
"The battery, stupid!" she yelled, and he cringed away from her.
"No hitting, Temari," Yashamaru scolded, but Temari only sneered.
"I'm not in third grade, Yashamaru," she reminded him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Stop treating me like a kid."
"You are a kid," he shot back, eyes narrowing. "Now stop fighting and behave, why don't you? You know Kankuro isn't the brightest, so leave him be."
"What's that mean?" Kankuro shrieked, tensing in his seat. Temari crossed her arms and huffed, looking out the window with an arrogant air about her.
"It's common sense," Gaara commented lowly, reveling in the angry glare he got from both Kankuro and Yashamaru.
"Shut up, Gaara!" Kankuro yelled, only to be hit once more by Temari.
"Don't tell him what to do!" she screamed, and he glared, rubbing his head.
"What was that for?" he questioned angrily, fist clenching.
"She just told you," Gaara muttered, turning away from his brother.
"Oh, really?" he said, and was answered by both in a taunting unison of voices. "Then what was it for?"
"Bossing Gaara around!" Temari said with an infuriated sigh – the top of her fist knocked against Kankuro's head again.
"Stop hitting me, damn it!"
"Stop telling me what to do," Gaara said simply.
"Did I tell you what to do that time?" he asked, and Gaara raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think so! So what was that for?"
"Being stupid," Temari answered cheerfully, hitting him across the back with a falsely peppy smile – one that could blind crowds.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Shut up!"
All three fell silent, gazes darting back to the fuming young man in the front seat – he was nearly turned all the way around to get a better look at them. The cab driver looked scared out of his mind, but he remained silent and kept on driving – Gaara almost hoped he would just crash and end all of their miserable lives… No…but crashing after they were dropped off might not be such a bad thing. He made a mental note to check in the paper for any car accidents tomorrow.
"Can't you get along for three minutes?" Yashamaru was saying, his face a glowing red beckon before Gaara. The color was beginning to irritate him.
In wordless retreat, he and his siblings fell silent against their wishes and merely turned away from each other – with Temari in between him and Kankuro, it was easier than usual. With nothing else to do – he couldn't murder Kankuro or listen to music – he hit the window's glass with his forehead and stared out at the streets. As the people flew by, one large building after another, time began to stretch further and further, and soon, they were moving away from the city. Near the city's edge, the cab driver pulled into a car rental store and let them go, gratefully accepting Yashamaru's nice tip and driving away, fast enough to get into a wreck… Gaara would have crossed his fingers had it been possible to make a difference.
Half an hour later they were on their way again – Temari in the driver's seat now and Yashamaru behind in the moving van – driving away from the bright lights of wherever they had just escaped from. Gaara was too bored to notice the hills they passed or the gently sloping fields. Everything was just a bit too plain for him to take notice in anything – as it normally was.
When he finally did come to his senses enough to take in his surroundings, they were pulling into a neighborhood – a nice one bordered by a fence with a nicely painted sign declaring it "Star Hill." Uninterested, he watched the many houses go by, the number of them decreasing as they went, the lots and buildings getting bigger and bigger. When Temari slowed and turned into a driveway, Gaara glanced up to see a three-story brick house, a sturdy looking building with what seemed to be a lot of history. From the looks of it, this part of the neighborhood was older – richer, but older – than the section near the highway.
Temari didn't bother pulling into the garage, instead parking in the driveway and turning the key in the ignition. Before the motor died, Gaara was out of the car and trudging up the perfect green slope – he hoped he killed the grass where he walked. It would make the house look more fitting for the four people living in it. He climbed up the front steps and tried the doorknob – it was locked.
He frowned before digging into his pocket, removing two bent out of shape paperclips. Skillfully he unfolded them both and stuck them in the keyhole, listening for the familiar click before pushing the large wooden door open and stepping inside. The front room was large and ornate, completely empty aside from the large chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling and the curving rosewood staircase in the corner.
Without much thought, he stalked to the stairs and moved up them slowly, not bothering to wipe his feet at the door or not scuff his boots against the polished wood. He reached the second landing and glanced around – would the perfect room be here or on the top floor? Making up his mind, he moved down the hall in search of another staircase but could find none. Frowning, Gaara let his gaze travel down the hall one last time…
There. In the white ceiling was a cut out, a piece of wood designed to be lifted from the rest of it – a trapdoor. An attic. He pulled a chair under the door and stepped on top of it, reaching up to push the piece of wood out of his way. With ease, he lifted himself up and looked around him.
It was certainly an attic, dark, large and empty, but when he took the five nicely sized windows into account, he figured it would be brighter in the day. The room actually seemed perfect for him, though he was not sure what he would end up doing with the excessive space – with a few more shelves, at least he would have room for all his c.d.s. His guitar could go there, and his bed there. He wondered vaguely how they would get the bed in here, and then decided that it did not matter whether they could or not – he did not use it for anything.
Yes. This room was perfect – and it was his.
CAPE CARTERET, NORTH CAROLINA – 4:10 A.M. – SEPT. 15, SAT.
Temari set her bags down and looked around the entrance room, marveling in the grandness of such a house – were they not supposed to be in the suburban area or something? Shaking her head slightly, she moved through the room, away from her brother and uncle, and into the next room – a family room. In the southern corner was an ornate fireplace, but the rest of the room was stock empty, which left plenty of room for the couches, chairs, coffee table, grand piano, television, and whatnot.
The next room was a space with floor-to-ceiling windows, narrow and elegant with a chandelier – a dining room most likely. It had the perfect atmosphere of such, and Temari wished that her family could fit that sort of image. A kitchen could be seen through the open archway, and Temari gaped at the fullness of the room – multiple stoves, grills and built-in appliances that made her want to give cooking a try again. A fridge that looked like it reached so far back it touched the other room, counters and a bar. It was huge.
Through a glass back door in the kitchen she saw a patio, bright and lovely even in the night. In front of the porch-like structure was a ground pool, inviting despite the weather, and a shed in the back – she noticed the backyard was bordered by a fence that matched the look of the old-fashioned brick house, a large, an intricate koi pond not a couple feet away from that, in the shade of a willow.
The other two rooms included an office-type space for Yashamaru, large enough for all the clutter he usually kept, and a decent sized room with nothing by emptiness resonating from its walls. Temari knew she would think of something for the lonely-looking room.
Up the stairs were an assortment of empty rooms – ones that could be used as bedrooms or for other purposes. Temari began to wonder about those, too. Then there was the laundry room and what was obviously the master bedroom, plus the total of seven bathrooms in the entire house. It was pretty much bigger than the other houses they had lived in, and much more beautiful – in an antique sort of way.
When she went back to the entrance room, Yashamaru was gone, but Kankuro was setting down a couple of boxes from the moving van onto the ground. He glanced up at her when she approached him and she gave an apologetic smile – he scowled.
"No, you and Gaara just go and chill," he muttered sarcastically, straightening and stretching his back. "We got it."
"Sorry," she sighed, and then gave a more enthusiastic grin. "The house is absolutely amazing! I just had to check it out. Oh, and I call the room by the east side on the top floor!"
"Master bedroom?"
"Think Yashamaru will let me have it?"
"Doubt it."
"You know nothing."
"Gaara looking for his room, too?" Kankuro guessed and Temari frowned, realizing she had not found the grumpy redheaded boy.
"I don't know," she admitted and regarded his surprised expression before adding, "I couldn't find the stairs to the third floor either."
"Must be an attic," Kankuro said with a nod of confirmation.
"I guess," Temari said with a shrug. "But that doesn't tell us where Gaara is."
"You lost your brother?"
Temari and Kankuro both turned to look in the doorway at a frantic, wide-eyed Yashamaru. He nearly dropped the box he was holding in his shock, and Kankuro rushed over to grab it before it slipped from his loosening grip. As soon as his hands were free, his hands went to his hair, twirling the strands around his fingers in frustration.
"Do you know what will happen if Gaara gets out of our sight?" he asked, and Temari blinked when his eyes got just a fraction wider. "He'll go do something we'll all regret and then we will have to move! Do you want that?"
Temari's eyes narrowed instinctively. Even if Gaara was prone to getting himself into trouble, Yashamaru was talking about him as if he were some rabid animal or something. What the hell kind of an uncle talking about his nephew like that? She opened her mouth, ready to voice her anger, but another one, rough and angry, interrupted her.
"Sorry to worry you," came the crudely sarcastic voice. Temari looked over his shoulder to see Gaara glowering menacingly past her, at Yashamaru – but she was sure he would be pissed at her, too. "I was upstairs."
"Third floor?" Temari guessed, and he gave a grim nod, eyes never moving off Yashamaru.
"Well, next time, you could help us unpack," Yashamaru said, skillfully changing the subject before Gaara could say anything else. "Actually, you can help us now."
"I thought you said there wasn't going to be a next time," Gaara said, throwing Yashamaru's promises back in his face – Temari nodded at Yashamaru, who looked stunned. "But whatever."
With that, Gaara grabbed the bags that were his off the floor and went back upstairs, fulfilling his part of the unpacking process with a couple easy steps. With a sad smirk and shake of her head, Temari pushed past her frozen uncle and moved to the van, followed by Kankuro.
Was this family ever going to get along? In a small moment of realization, Temari realized that the answer to that question was simple: no.
They would never be a family.
CAPE CARTERET, NORTH CAROLINA – 8:31 A.M. – SEPT 15, SAT.
The view was not that bad.
It had taken Gaara a while to finally manage one of the windows open – it seemed as if nobody had been in the attic in a long time. He had not wanted to break the glass, so it took him three hours to budge one of the metal-framed circles of glass at the west end of the house. There had been a moment when he had contemplated trying to get the others open, too, but decided that was better left for a day of more patience, and today he was more anxious then ever – he needed the wind now.
After the window had opened, it had been easy to jump up on the sill and haul his body above it, climbing expertly to the top of the roof. There, he was able to see more green lawns and pristine houses than ever before, an expanse of baby blue flying overhead. No clouds broke the sky today, but the wind was light, a breeze that tickled his skin, playing with the short, unruly locks of his hair. He had taken a seat, resting his elbows on his bent knees, hunched forward just slightly in the rumpled clothes he had worn the day before – he had not felt like changing.
Gaara had not slept that night; he had not been able to. For some reason, darkness eluded him, so he took it as a sign to do something. That was usually difficult for him, as he lacked the motivation to do anything, but he figured what with the new move, he could spare a couple hours unpacking or something – not to help anyone, of course, just to kill time.
Near midnight, he had crept downstairs and stole the keys to the padlock keeping the back of the moving van tightly shut. Then he had snuck out the parts of his bed and carried them upstairs, accustomed to the heavy weight falling against his body. Once all the pieces were in the attic, he assembled them together and moved on to the next task – his desk. After that was done, he went about arranging his c.d.s in order, something he had never bothered to do before – something about the house's hominess made him feel like giving at least a little bit of effort…as long as nobody could see him do it.
By the time Temari was up and getting dressed, he had already emptied half the boxes and put the contents precisely where they needed to go. There was no rush in his movement as he worked, only a bit of anxiety and curiousity as to why he felt the impulse to do such a thing in the first place.
Now, though, he let himself relax and take in the wind on his face. The tension dropped from his muscles, and his expression calmed to the point where it felt awkward not to have that ever-permanent scowl on his face. Having the sun rest warmly on his features was nice, even if it was not the moon. Maybe it would not be too bad living here…
For him at least.
He still had to find a way to get revenge on the others for using him, speaking of him in such a cruel, inhumane matter. What did he owe them to take that kind of shit from his own so-called family? There were so many possibilities to get some payback, especially on Kankuro.
The easiest was obvious: pick a fight with some rich kid at school. If he did that, then the deal Yashamaru had made with his siblings would immediately be broken and they would move soon, no doubt – at least in a few months. Then there was the thought of pretending to run away and making them all freak out, just as they had the night before when Yashamaru had thought Temari had "lost" him, as if he were a dog.
Of course, he could pull a huge prank. Nothing childish or stupid, but maybe he could light a classroom on fire or wreck havoc in the cafeteria – there were a thousand ways to do that. But then something occurred to Gaara as he thought over his choices, and he paused, frowning at the new notion in his mind.
He did not want to move again.
Even if it would be perfect payback, there was a part of him that kept whispering just how much he hated being uplifted time and time again. Moving meant he was just going to give others relief – by moving away – and have to suffer more by meeting new people who would treat him just the same. There was no "fresh start" or "redo" for Gaara; he had learned that long ago. Staying in one place was better.
Plus, Cape Carteret was not that bad of a place – the neighborhood was decent and quiet. He doubted there was a lot of noise here, and silence was one of the few things he valued. It got him out of that angry state, allowed him to actually be calm and think about things. Though being mad and careless all the time had its advantages, he was able to enjoy peace every now and then. Too much of it got on his nerves, but it was nice occasionally.
But then how could he take his revenge if he could not risk moving again?
He was not sure, but he was positive that it did not matter what he thought. There was no doubt that he would be able to behave – just sit there, listen, do homework, come to school every day. It was not like he had anything better to do, and just being there was easy for him – he never got anxious or fidgety like other teenagers during school hours. However, if anyone did think of screwing with him, then his patience was like a bomb – when it wore out, everyone would know. Blood would be shed and he would be expelled – already, he had been kicked out of thirteen schools all over the world. Did he want to make that mistake again?
Who cared what he wanted? Nobody else did, so trying to have things his way was just a waste of time and affection that he did not have. What was the point in putting up with things such as love or hope or dreams when all they did was die? Rot? Gaara growled and slipped back down into his room.
Everything seemed to be in the right place – his bed in the shade, desk in the corner, shelves bordering the room lined with c.d.s, his guitar set up nicely, clean and polished… Just to spite how perfect it all looked, he swung his arm, knocking a collection of music to the ground. The cases clattered, but none of them broke when they hit the wooden floor. Gaara huffed and moved around the pile, towards the trap door. What would he do down there? Maybe he would eat or something – who cared?
Nobody.
It's better, yes? By re-writing the chapter, I have made it more elaborate, and I will be combining a couple old chapters at a time so the new chapters will be longer. At least 8,000 words - around 20 pages on Microsoft Word. The plot will be relatively the same for those of you who liked the story originally - I just wanted to redo it for those readers who enjoy truly excellent work. I hope this meets your standards now - as I am aware it did not before. In this version, Gaara will hopefully be in character much, much more. That will be hard for me, but I'll try for my readers.
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