[chapter two

"Heather. Stephanie. Paisley. Matheson." he mimicked. "You say it like some kind of deathwish. Aren't you happy to visit Petey again?" he asked. I broke away from him.

"Don't ever say that again." I mumbled.

"Awwwwww. But Heathaaa." he said in a baby voice that sounded way too much like he did when he was two.

"It's HEATHER. You're what...seventeen like me now right? Act like it." He pouted. Heatha and Petey were what we called each other back in...day care. He called me Heatha because he had a speech problem and couldn't say Heather. I just said Petey because it was more fun then Peter. He growled and wrapped his arms around me from behind, like he used to when our moms and dads would take pictures of us. There was something comforting about being next to him again, feeling his heartbeat on my back, his arms shielding me from anything I didn't want near me. Not that I liked him or anything, seriously no. Peter is just the brother I never had...or sister as I may have to call him if he's as gay as he looks. His face hasn't changed at all. He still has those big baby brown eyes and soft pink lips. But he got much taller. He's got about six inches on me and I'm pretty tall myself. His hair is the same chestnut brown but with shocks of red all throughout. No I won't even bother denying that he's pretty hot but...with my history with him I won't go after him. Played doctor with him, saw what he's got, it's nothing impressive. (Yes I DO have a sick mind thank you.) I asked my mom for the house keys, grabbed my backpack and made my way into the house.

It was completely empty, with plastic tarps on the floor. The whole house stunk with paint fumes. The people in this house were people who bought houses, fixed them up and then sold them. Most of the rooms were the same color as the outside of the house, and the floors were all dark brown hardwood. I saw a big closet, and a big room suitable for a den, and another for a dining room. Each room led into the other like a track until, the last room, which ended in a staircase. I took the stairs, which were carpeted in black plush. I counted twenty steps. All the doors in the upstairs hall were closed except one, and sunshine poured through the doorway, the only source of light in the hall. I walked curiously towards the door, and saw a room that was remarkably large for such a small house. shockingly, it was about the size of my old room. I dropped my bag in the middle of the floor and turned around slowly, surveying the whole room. It had a bay window surveying the quiet street below, and a nice seat right against the glass, with drawers below the padded seat. I started mumbling to myself about plans for the room.

"I can put nice purple mesh on those windows...a four poster in this corner...a T.V. and stereo will fit there...dresser there...I can finally fit a drum set in my room...great!"

"HEATHER?" I heard my mom call from downstairs. "Heather come down here honey."
I walked out of the room and down the stairs. "Honey I didn't realize just how empty this house would be. I'm off to get some groceries and some sleeping bags, we'll worry about the big stuff later okay?" She kissed my head and walked out the door. I turned and went back upstairs to further plot out my room. Walking back in, the initial excitement of a new room in a new house had worn off. The sun didn't seem to shine as bright, the space didn't seem as promising for decorating. I guess being the rich girl that I am, has grown me accustomed to so much more...despite my efforts to the contrary. I sighed and went to get a bag to start loading up my closet. I got about half way through the third suitcase (shut up I have a lot of clothes), when I heard the front door open and close. Mom didn't call for me, which I found odd, but I went downstairs to help her anyway. Downstairs, my mom was sitting with her back against the wall, head in her hands. She wasn't crying, she was having more of a dry breakdown I guess. What worried me even more was that it didn't look like she'd bought anything.

"...Mom?" I tested her sanity with the single word. She took a few shuddering breaths at the sound of my voice. Then she spoke.

"My...my credit cards they...were declined and...ugh." she breathed deep again. Before she continued, I knew what she was going to say. But she kept the explanation going. "I went to the bank and they said our accounts were emptied earlier today." I felt as if all of the blood was draining to my bottom half and trying to pull me through the floor. "Your father took everything honey. And I don't know what to do." was all she said, or at least, all I heard. My brain started planning immedietly. It's just how I work, as soon as I'm faced with something, my mind subconsciously works out every detail, and fixes it. I should be studied. My mom met my dad in college, they married after graduation. My mother has honestly never worked a day in her life, and she lives like a stay at home rich mom too. I have no problem going out and waiting tables or something, but my mom...a job? I don't know how she'll handle that.