AN: Well, I'm feeling like angst stories right now, and the plot bunny locked me in my closet until I finished this chapter, so enjoy!
My life didn't start out awful. In fact, I had it pretty good when I was a kid. Most of that was because of my parents. My dad was an English teacher at the local public high school and my mom was a work-from-home journalist. She always said it was their love of words that brought them together. My mom was a wonderful woman who always encouraged me to be creative, while my dad was ambitious and told me to "seize the world". That may sound like a dictatorship, but what he really meant was to take on the world, take it by surprise, follow my dreams, and help make it a better place. My dad always wanted to teach high school English, and he got exactly what he wanted. Between them, my parents gave me the confidence that I could do anything I put my mind to, no matter how unlikely it may seem. But then, when I was eleven, something changed all that. My mom died.
My dad and I were devastated, of course. However, we managed to pull together and stay strong. We supported each other, and her death united us, pulled us closer. But it wasn't long before that ended. About a year and a half later Dad started going out and leaving me at home alone almost every night. Then when I was fooling with the checkbook (I balanced it, I loved math because everything came out the way it was supposed to be) I realized he had spent money on an engagement ring. Without telling me. I listened in on a phone conversation or two and found out that she was someone he had met at teacher conferences, and the mother of one of his brightest, most promising students. So really, I wasn't too upset. After all, she sounded nice, and if her son was smart, how bad could he be? Maybe he would help me with homework or something. Not that I really needed it, but it would be a brotherly thing to do, right? Oh how wrong I was.
It's possible that the worst day of my life was the day I turned thirteen. For my becoming a teenager present, I was getting to meet the new Mrs. Poole to be and my future stepbrother. I remember it perfectly. My dad had invited them over for dinner. We would be having my favorite, taco salad, with a dessert of chocolate cheesecake. The doorbell rang and I let my dad answer it, deciding to play it cool and not seem too excited. My dad winked cheerily at me as they came in. I, however, was completely frozen to the spot, my eyes focused on the sixteen-year-old's smirk. It was not possible. There was no way I was going to have to share my house and my dad with him.
"Ri, say hello," my dad prompted. I turned red as the teen chuckled upon hearing my nickname. I didn't say hello. I turned and ran to my room, locked the door, and hid in my closet, thinking I was safe there.
Now a little about this kid. His appearance was not really important, other than the fact that he had piercing blue eyes and was at least six inches taller than my pathetic 5'1, probably more. If I was put in charge of writing a resume of his life it would read a little something like this: Preschool Bully- Two years. Elementary school bully: Six years. Middle school bully: Three years. High School Bully: Two and a half years and counting. King of Sadistics for twelve years. Total genius. Class President every year since fifth grade, achieved by stuffing ballot boxes and threatening voters. So yes, he was a "bright and promising student" the same way say, Adolf Hitler or Fidel Castro was "bright and promising". My dad must love this lady an awful lot to marry her and subject me to being related to him.
There was a knock on my closet and I jumped up. I opened the door and saw my dad standing there holding the key to my room. I sighed. "Dad," I said.
"Ri, I know you don't like him, but you guys are going to have to try to get along. Can you do that, for my sake?"
"Yeah dad," I said, even though I knew I had blown it by showing that he was intimidating to me. Hah! As if he needed my running away to prove that. "I'll try." Even though he's big enough to eat me, I added in my head.
"Good job," my dad praised. "Now why don't you go introduce yourself?"
"'K" I answered. My dad glared. "I mean 'Okay,'" I sighed. Sometimes having a dad who taught English wasn't a good thing. I got up and carefully traipsed to the foyer, keeping close to my dad for support.
"Hey," I said, extending a hand to my new stepbrother. "I'm Riley, Riley Poole."
He took my hand slowly and crushed it as we shook. "Hello Riley," he said in a voice that sent chills down my spine. "I'm sure we're going to be great friends." That's when I knew my life was over.