I don't own anything... I wish I did.

I hope you do realize that the beginning takes place in the summer of '07. Heads up for those of you who don't remember.

Brielle's POV

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I've got to admit the flight to Dallas was a fucking terrible one. Not only did Dad book us in economy, my clothes reeked of smoke and burnt toast. Not only mine, Aiden's and Dad's. We smelt like smoker's smoke, how horrid, I know. We didn't have much to pack, most of our stuff was burnt in the fire anyways, leaving us with three suitcases full of the items that were fine or weren't badly damaged. This sucks, I thought. I was clothesless. My suitcase was filled with the clothing items at the back of my closet, and those were my winter clothes. I cringed out a couple of salty tears at the home we were living behind in the debris in New York. All the things I've left there, just ashes, all the friends I've made, waving sadly at me at JFK airport.

"Dallas, Texas, huh?" I spoke, already imagining my mundane life ahead of me. Dallas was no Manhatten, I can tell you that. "Our 'mom' could have at least picked a more... interesting place," I spoked, especially emphasizing "mom." We had no mom, Aiden and me. Why call that stupid woman our mom when she acted like no mother towards us? I know, right. I scavanged through my partial filled chocolate-colored Balenciaga City purse to find something to waste my time on. Hey, you gotta' do something with your father's six-digit salary. Just buying things, thanks.

"It's been how long since we've lifted off?" Aiden yawned, his blue eyes tight shut from exhaustion. This whole thing took a large toll on Aiden, of that I'm sure, even though he didn't show it. He was softie, the wet blanket, if you will. And girls totally found all of that attractive. I guess he was kind good-looking; shaggy blonde hair and baby blue eyes. I rather not discuss it anymore, it'll make me look like I find him hot or something. Anyways, Abby is... Abby is... just there. She's smart, sure, but she's boring. I guess she deserved some credit, after all, she did earn a full scholarship to Dartmouth University. She never bothered to visit us in New York, she was too busy trying to become Magna Cum Laude. Honestly, I've haven't seen a fifty-year-old work this hard, I don't think she'll last. Her twenty-three-year-old body won't be able to handle the remaining years of law school. Someone's trying to fufill the family dream, huh?

How about me? Brielle? I'm sixteen, two years younger than my brother, Aiden, who's eighteen. He skipped one year of school two years ago, in hopes he would become an actor. Well, obviously it didn't work, because he went back to school a year later. Therefore this school year,

he would be a senior, while I would be a junior. I had no idea what would be in store when we arrived in Dallas, but I was determined I wouldn't like it.

--

I feel asleep, one of those deep slumbers where you can't dream and it's as if nothing can wake you. I awoke to the shuffling of bags, people muttering "I just want to get off this fucking plane," and stomping steps of people walking towards the cockpit of the aircraft. I opened my eyes, blinking at the sudden light being shed on me. It was dark outside. I stretched my arms in the air, my white tank top rising above my belly button. My father looked at me disapprovingly and I let my arms fall down to my sides while I bent over to get my bag. I waited for Dad and Aiden to scoot out of the aisle until I did the same. My grey PINK sweatpants were embarassingly sticking to my ass. How embarassing, I thought as I discreetly pulled them to the appropriate place.

We walked through the airport to the baggage claim silently. What was there to talk about? It wasn't as if we wanted to be here, we wanted to be back home, in New York. Picking up our light-as-feather luggage, Aiden and I waited on a metal bench while Daddy called the woman we were supposed to call Mother. The pungent smell of coffee filled my nose. Ah, sanity. I walked over to the coffee shop and ordered myself a grande cup of low-fat mocha with a blueberry muffin, requested by Aiden. By the time I'd walked back, Aiden and Dad were waiting expectantly at me.

"Thanks, is this for me?" Dad asked, taking my coveted mocha and chugging the steamy liquid down his throat, while Aiden took his muffin and demolished it with two bites. Jesus, way to be a gentleman. "Daddy." I whined. This was what it resorted to. I was whining like a baby. Thanks for taking my sanity, Dad. "Low-fat? Nasty stuff," he replied, teasing me. My stomache grumbled, the churning feeling was beginning to arise. "I'm hungry." My dad eyed me, "It doesn't take a deaf man to hear it. It's written all over your face." His Blackberry rang just then. He pressed the green key, "Hello?" his scratchy voice spoke. "Okay, we'll meet you out in the front." He ended the call curtly, and I could only wonder who it was. Really, no.

"Who was that?" I asked, resting my head upon Aiden's shoulder. He was already asleep, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "You're mother, she's just outside, in the black Lexus," Dad replied, slapping his hands on his thighs. "Time to meet the beast," I said, rolling my eyes, shoving Aiden while doing so. Aiden stirred, rubbing his eyes in distaste. "Do we really have to be here? I mean, we could have stayed at the Plaza or Carlyle, Dad," Aiden croaked. FINALLY Aiden comes to senses. "I should have thought about that. But really, this is your mother, she may be glad to see you," Dad fought bad, lamely. "Let's just get this over with, please." Dad stood up, slung his briefcase over his shoulder and wheeled my black Tumi and his suitcase towards the exit, my brother and I slowly lagging behind him.

My dad searched the sea of cars until he found the sleek, black Lexus 360 parked squarely in front of a garbage disposal. "Is that our mom?" I asked, stunned. That lady sitting on the hood was so flawlessly beautiful that it made Ellen Pompeo look average. "Yeah," My dad said, in awe. So I guess he's in shock that she looked so young and carefree while he looked stressed and was already starting to grey. That's just too bad. "What now?" I whispered to equally amazed Aiden, who was still scrutinizing the lady. "We say hello, of course," Dad said, his tone of voice making me look stupid. He walked over to her awkwardly, as if she was going to shoo him away or tell her to leave her alone. She stuck out her hand meekly, and Dad shook it firmly. He eyed us and motioned us to follow along. Once we reached her, I didn't know what to do. What the hell do I do? Hug her? Shake her hand? I didn't know, so I stuck out my hand too, waiting for her to shake it. She shook it and introduced herself, "I'm Liz. Well, you're mom." Her happiness seemed fake, to the point where I, myself, stopped smiling.

This woman clearly didn't want us invading her life. I could already see it in her face, the distain for us the second she laid eyes on us. We looked miserable, I could tell, because along with distaste, there was also a huge amount of pity, it was dripping off her. Dad didn't seem to notice, he was too enraptured by her. Aiden gave her an awkward sideways hug, which she barely returned. I knew it. I wasn't going to enjoy it here.

"It's time to go, I believe," Liz said impatiently, opening her car door and sliding inside. "Wait to be hospitable, doesn't even help us with our bags," I muttered, trying to shove our luggage into the

trunk, with no success. "You wuss," Aiden said, expertly manuvering the suitcases around until it fit perfectly. "Shut the fuck up." I shut it closed, and moved to the back, where I sat behind Dad, while Aiden sat behind Liz.

We sat in silence on our way to her house. "Are you guys hungry? I told Steven to make you something before I left," Liz spoke, her eyes locking mine through the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were so cold, and I squirmed, uncomfortable. Avoiding her gaze, I looked out the window, examining the expanding lawns with each house we passed. How rich was Liz? She seemed like an average woman, by the looks of her. Who was this woman?

When I felt the car stop, we were at the most luxurious house I'd ever seen. Well, one of the most. It had an entrancing and dramatic circular driveway, a lovely fountaining sitting in the center. Surrounding the fountain, where violet hydrangeas and other various flowers. The house was so quaint and homey looking, very luxurious homey-feel. But, whatever, the inside is probably not impressive. Boy was I wrong about that prediction. I don't get struck by diamonds or penthouses in New York, but this was all amazing and beautiful. Wait, I'm not supposed to like this. I tried to look disinterested as we toured the twelve-bedroom mansion, each room with it's own theme. I just want a bed to sleep on, thanks.

All Liz talked about was Steven, you would think she'd be some obsessed fan of his. "Steven helped me design this room!" and "That's Steven's whatever" were all that came out from her blonde-bimbo head. And you know what else completely bugs me? The fact that on every single available surface or wall, there would be pictures of Liz (or Liz with this Steven character) and this family of six. Aiden and I were sitting on two swinging barstools when the infamous Steven opened the back door.

For a fortysomething-year-old man, Steven was pretty hot, if you ask me. Oh God, I have too much testosterone in my life as it is. I scrutinized his bulky towering six-foot plus frame as he hunched into the champagne-painted walls of the expansive kitchen. There was obvious hard-work involved in creating such an elegant and sophisticated dining and cooking area. I do notice these kinds of things, after living in that penthouse for so long it makes you wonder what normal houses looked like. For example, a kitchen with no empty Pizza Hut boxes sitting no where near the trash, a perpetual, not to mention nauseating smell of BO (blame the men), and no mountains of dirty lacrosse gear and laundry blocking the way of your bedroom door. And my dad didn't think we needed a maid.

I'm getting off-subject. So in that six-second awkward silence, I introduced myself, "I'm Bri." Steven gave me a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with welcoming and concern."I'm Steven." I knew that already. Aiden still hasn't said anything, so I elbowed hims hard in ribs. "Aiden," he greeted, rubbing his side until the pain subsided. "Are you hungry? I just came back from the grocery store. I hope you like microwavable shit and Easy Mac," Steven joked. Mac and cheese? The elbow pasta with the fat-filled artificial cheese? I like this guy already. I slid off, and helped him unload the the food, while Aiden shifted through the cabinets to find a pot.

--

"Have you met my dad yet?" I chewed slowly on my macaroni as I waited for the reply. Turns out that Steven isn't that bad. At least he's better than Liz. Mother Bitch choose my bedroom to be the bedroom farthest away from the kithcne. Heinous, I tell you. After she waltzed into the kitchen to tell me this, she went to her master suite to get some rest from the "awful" events that happened this evening. We all know she's just avoiding conversation with her so-called "children." "I haven't, actually," Steven said, disappointed. "I heard he's awesome at golf. I'll meet him later, yeah?" He said that as if it were a question. "Sure." I didn't even know where my dad was, to be honest. I think he said something about hitting the sack early. Aiden was already on his fourth bowl of mac n' cheese by the time I was done with my first. "Want some ice cream?"

By the time I fell asleep, it was only, suprisingly, around nine. So when I heard the doorbell ring two hours later, I was sure it was already morning. I had a rough day, it's okay if this is completely illogical of me. I stumbled down the hallway and down the winding staircase, for it seemed like the rest of the house didn't hear this incessant ringing. I opened the grand oak door to see three boys, who looked just like these guys on this poster I saw in my cousin's room once. Like, I don't know, the Brothers of Jonas or something. Sons of Jonas, Brothers Jonas... Oh, yeah, the Jonas Brothers. And I remember them from those photos, and I immediately hated them. How can they look so happy around the woman I absolutely despised? It sure showed in the pictures.

I stared at them, me and my shitty-appearance self. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing at here at... eleven o'clock at night?" I demanded, as I checked my delicate Tiffany watch to make sure it was indeed eleven. The middle one, stepped forward, and stuck out his hand, "I'm Joe. And these are my brothers, Kevin and Nick." I ignored his request to shake his hand, and I snapped my right fingers. "Oh yeah, you those conceited Jonas Brothers," I finally realized. Someone give her a Razzie. All three of their eyes darkened, and I stared them down, clearly not intimidated. "Anyways, we're here to have our weekly horror movie night with Steven," the one I assumed to be Kevin, vaguely remembering he his name in some teenybop magazine that Karen, my cousin, made me read. Who the hell hangs out with a man old enough to be their father, and someone who was so much cooler than them? I guess all of them are just desperate.

My cold eyes smoldered through theirs. "I'm sure you can find your way in. You clearly know this place better than I do." The two younger ones walked ahead, and I heard the youngest one mutter, "Bitchy, bitchy." I rolled my eyes. If that was his biggest attempt to piss me off, he was going to have to try a little harder. I looked at Kevin, and he smiled at me. I was perplexed, couldn't he tell that I wanted to be left alone? He appeared unfazed, and I softened. "Sorry about that, I like my sleep, is all," I mumbled. "I understand, I feel the same way," Kevin responded, walking into the house to follow his brothers. I closed the door and was just about to walk up the stairs when Kevin called out from across the foyer, "What's your name, Blondie?" I gave him credit, he was a funny one. "Bri," I replied, with a smile. Did he just wink at me? Or was that just me?

With that, I walked up the stairs and to my bedroom. I guess I should be calling it my room now, I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a while.

--

Well, what do you think? I hope someone actually REVIEWS this time. :)

"Yo, that's illogical, I can't have it." -Nick Jonas.

Here's what I have for the main house, minus the fountain, I made that up myself;

(space it all back together)

ntreisphotos .ntreis .net /media/ 39/ hr2597239-1 . jpg