I own nadaaa T.T
I know I said tomorrow or the next day, but I got two story alerts and decided to give you another, longer chapter.
Enjoy!
And a shout out to my first two story alert-ers, amazonia22 and AttitudeDragon. I love you!
Amara's POV
We pulled up to the beach in La Push in my dad's black Range Rover. I'm surprised he can see out of those windows with how dark they were tinted. Combined with the sun glasses he had on? Let's just say my fingers were crossed the entire way.
My dad hoped out of the truck as a lady, who I'm guessing is my mother, a man in a wheelchair, and a boy who looked like he was on steroids walked towards us with a bunch of other people.
I stayed seated in the car as they walked up. My father turned and looked at me, rolling his eyes.
"Amara Dalia you get out of that car right now!" He shouted, putting my government name out there.
My father named me Amara Dalia for reasons unbeknownst to me. It means Immortal Flower. When I was a little girl he would read me stories and call me his preciosa Dalia. Or precious flower.
I sighed and got out of his car, slamming the door and ranting loudly.
"Oh, Dios mío papa! Por qué tengo que hacer esto? No quiero estar aquí!" (Oh my God papa! Why do I have to do this? I don't want to be here!) He glared slightly at me and replied quickly.
"Debido a que usted desea algo. No importa lo que esta mujer es su MADRE y usted va a tratar como tal. Ahora sonríe." (Because you want something. No matter what this woman is your MOTHER and you will treat her as such. Now smile.)
I rolled my eyes and put on the fakes smile I could.
"Lo siento, no hablo Inglés." (I'm sorry, I don't speak English.)
"Amara…" my father warned, and I knew I had to suck it up and be a doll or risk my motorcycle.
"Please forgive me, my English isn't what it used to be." I spoke slowly, enunciating my words.
"I'm sorry, she's a bit of a smart ass," my dad told them, "her English is amazing, yet I don't think there's anything she hates more than not being able to speak her native tongue." He laughed lightly and my "mother" smiled softly at him.
"Está bien. No sea demasiado duro con ella. Hablo Español, recuerdas?" (It's okay. Don't be too hard on her. I speak Spanish, remember?)She spoke smiling lovingly at me. I felt my stomach churn and glared at her.
"My English is perfectly fine," I spat, shifting my glare to the boy on steroids next to her who started laughing.
"I think me and my little sister will get along perfectly. Especially with that attitude. It's good to know she isn't the only one more than a little pissed the fuck off about this situation," he stated, glaring at his mother as well. I felt my glare soften and smiled hesitantly at him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the roaring fire in the center of the ocean. "Come on, Mara, do you mind if I call you Mara? Lets go roast some weenies and makes some s'mores." He said happily.
I looked at him incredulously, "What's a s'more?" I asked and he gasped loudly.
"You've never had a s'more?" He asked, placing his hand over his heart and feigning heartbreak. "You poor, deprived child. It's okay, don't worry. Big brother Jakey is gonna make it all better."
I laughed at his ridiculous antics and allowed him to lead me towards the bonfire. I think I could get along with this Jakey. My mother would be an entirely different story. I glanced back at my dad and he nodded at me in recognition. The talk with my mother could wait until tomorrow.
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