Chapter 1- Get the party started

My father told me when I was eleven that he never wanted a daughter; that my brother was all he'd ever wanted or needed and that a daughter was just a disappointment and burden he could never see being worth anything. Told me to my face while he sat at our dining room table casually reading the paper and sipping coffee.

Have you ever had your father, the man you've blindly loved and believed in tell you that you were useless? I'd sat there, in shock for I don't know how many minutes. Long enough that my father had finished his coffee and just left the house before I even was able to blink my eyes and let the first tear fall from my eyes.

That was the first time he decided to tell me the truth about his regard for me. He never censored himself again after that.

"I'm just saying Lizzie, winter break is almost over. At some point you should get out and enjoy yourself."

I scowled at the overbearingly persistent figure of my brother as he once again tried to convince me to go out with him to some party his mates were throwing.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe bringing your sixteen-year-old sister to a college age party would not be appropriate?" I asked, crossing my arms over my silk robe that covered my nightgown. I then turned my attention back to the breakfast I had been pleasantly enjoying before Aaron came barreling into the dining room with his crazy idea for some 'fun'.

Aaron sighed in exasperation, plopping down in the cream covered chair next to mine. The other twelve chairs at the too-large table made the room seem very empty, something I hadn't noticed before he sat next to me. The room was actually rather lovely, beautiful cream drapes framed the large window that streamed bright morning light onto the high ceiling and wooden floor. Ornate panels ran at waist height around the rectangular room that was not interrupted by anything but the door to the kitchen and the large double doors that opened to the foyer. Beautiful paintings of fields of flowers, wooded parks with fountains, and Oceanside paradise adorned the walls. They had been painted by my mother, the only true reminder of her left in the house besides the family portrait that lay in my father's study.

"It might be inappropriate if I actually thought you were capable of being bad, but so far you're just looking like a pansy." Aaron grinned at me, the lopsided smile he knew was my down falling. I might profess a cold exterior to everyone else; and for the most part it was true, but my brother was the exception. An exception he never failed to make use of.

"Come on Liz, I'll be leaving to head back to Stanford in a few days, how am I supposed to do that if I'm so worried about my little sister turning into some shut-in? What if I'm so worried I can't maintain me studies? Think of my poor, poor grades. Do you want them to suffer?"

I couldn't stop the laugh that he forced out of me with his ridiculous pout, his blue eyes; the same as mine, were so wide and earnest.

"Alright fine you wanker, I'll make an appearance at this party, happy?"

He grinned and stood up, "Very. I'll leave you to your breakfast now. Remember, tonight at eleven I'll be whisking you away for the night of your life." He then jogged out of the room, already on the phone with someone else about the 'brilliant' party tonight.

After finishing my breakfast and the half eaten plate being taken away by one the three maids, I headed up the kitchen stairs to the second floor and my room.

The white walls glowed with a light blue as the light streamed through the azure curtains that draped the French doors that lead to my balcony. The white furniture; a canopied bed, dresser, leather couch, desk and vanity, the only items in the room. The room was spotless, not a thing out of place, giving the pure white room the appearance of freshly fallen snow. The only color the curtains, the delicate embroidered snowflakes on the bed spread, and the canvas painting of a small blond haired child and mother that hung on the center of one wall. The room was large, easily more than two 'normal' bedrooms in size. But like most of this house in Maxville's 'elite' district it seemed empty and impersonal to me.

I stepped towards the door along the right wall and entered my walk-in closet heading to the back. I pulled down some thick white tights and a large blue t-shirt that would fall to my knees. Then I bent down and pulled a brown cardboard box from beneath the selves that held my purses. I quickly changed into me workout clothes, tying my mid-back length hair into a messy bun. My fringe was pushed back with an elastic head band and I was ready to go.

I took the box and left my room, heading down the large main staircase then down the next stair case to the basement. The basement was finished meaning it looked as gorgeous and faked as the rest of the house. Taking the first door I entered the house gym. Inside was a large room filled with at least fifteen different machines and a wall of mirrors. The cold stone floor against my bare toes was soothing, the cold revitalizing me and sending a peaceful hum through my body.

I stopped in front of the right side wall and hooked the i-pod I'd brought down with me to the sound system set up there. Then I turned to the space in front of the mirror. I placed the box down to the side and reached inside, pulling out a pair of battered ballerina shoes.

I slipped the shoes on and tied the laces around my ankles as tight as I could stand then experimentally balanced on my toes. The first track began playing, a piano recording of Chopin's Rondo Op. 1, and I began my warm ups. I stretched my legs, my arms, rolling the muscles on my body and reminding them of the learned motion I was going to be demanding of them.

(A/N I am not a dancer. I enjoy watching dance, but my knowledge is vague and I hope I do not offend anyone with any mistakes I make. Most of my description of the dancing will be biased on the emotion and physicality of the movement. Hopefully that will be entertaining and not leave those of us who don't dance going "what the f*ck is a pivot?")

I tediously went through my warm up ritual for the majority of the ten minute song. Towards the end I began practicing my spins and leaps as the songs crescendo belayed the ending. A light sheen of sweat already covered my body, but my breathing and muscles were still controlled. Then the next track came on and I truly began.

I lost count of the number of songs I danced to, most were classical, but beautiful and endearing to me. Numbers from old recitals, pieces I choreographed for the young girls I sometimes taught, showcases I used to join the upper ranks of the company. All had great meaning to me, some viewed by my mother while she was alive. Then the last song on the track played and I flew into my grand finale.

This Christmas my father was away in China for business, this gave me the chance to be in my dance schools performance of The Nutcracker. I got the role of the sugar plum fairy, one of the most coveted roles in the show and the most challenging dance I had ever learnt. We are a small dance company that mostly teach young children and perform locally in Maxville, so the show only went on for one week, but it was exhilarating to be on that stage. And the dancing, the dancing was invigorating.

I began the dance, missing a few steps in the beginning before I found my rhythm. When I did, I was off. I tiptoed around the front of the mirror, leaping across the makeshift stage, twirling so fast yet controlled that I felt invincible. The music flowed through me and resonated with my body as the steps no longer had to cross my mind as I flowed with the song and let it sweep me away. The dance is three minutes long, give or take, but for me it felt like an eternity.

When the last note faded and I completed my final spin, I opened eyes I hadn't noticed I'd closed. Light white flakes slowly fell all around me and my panting breath came out to fog the otherwise warm room. I'd lost control again, unleashing my powers into the moisture in the air. The snow fell down all around me like rain, the drops that leaded on my bare skin freezing even more as soon as they touched me. I was freezing, my body's reaction to a hard workout. My heart rate slowed, my body temperature lowered to about -20 degrees C ( about -4 F), and I could feel a layer of frost on my skin. An exhausted laugh escaped me as I worked to return my body to normal, pulling in my powers until the remaining snowflakes turned to melted drops. I worked my breathing back to normal and felt my body temperature return to normal, 35.6 C (96.5 F) normal for me at least.

I sat down to untie my shoes, my feet aching pleasantly, and put them gently back in the box, my clothes sticking to me, soaked from the impromptu snow. I quickly went through my 'cool down' stretches, then gathered the rest of my things before racing up the stairs and into my room.

That wasn't the first time I'd accidently created a blizzard in the houses gym, but it was something I never allowed on stage or at the studio. My performances suffered for it, never getting to the same point as they did when I completely let loose, but with practice and extreme control I was able to do it. Sometimes though, I needed to let go.

Later, I came down stairs putting on some dangling silver earrings as I walked into the foyer. Aaron was already there, wearing dark jeans and a light blue button-down shirt.

"Hey, ready to go?"

He grinned at me before grabbing a sports jacket and heading to the door. "Let's go."

I grabbed my leather half jacket and followed him out to the car that was waiting in the driveway. My silver heels clicked across the driveway with each of my practiced steps as Aaron bounced by the car, already impatient.

I slid into the car, smoothing my smoky grey cocktail dress that had a heart shaped bodice and empire waist, and then flaring at the hips to layered tiers ending at mid thigh.

Aaron got into the back with me before giving George, the driver, the address of the party. The entire time Aaron babbled about all the different friends of his that would be there.

Finally, after I felt that my nodding and 'mmhmm-ing' was going to be noticed by him, we pulled up in front of a large house that had a handful of teens hanging out in the front yard. The music was loud enough I could hear it from in the car.

"Do I really have to go in there?"

Aaron grinned at me, "Yes."

"No escaping over the back fence?"

"Only if you really have to, could be entertaining."

I sighed, "let's go."

I got out of the car, heading to the front door, effortlessly weaving through the mob of drunk people littering the yard. Aaron was right behind me, waving joyfully to the people who called his name.

If the noise outside was loud, it was deafening inside. Remixed pop songs blared from multiple speakers, the center of attention a DJ wearing headphones incorrectly and occasionally screaming at the dancing drunks through a microphone.

Aaron dragged me through the sea of sweaty people bumping and grinding to a tall relatively attractive guy who somehow was managing to talk to a group of seemingly listening college kids.

"Hey mate," yelled Aaron, slapping the man on the back. "killer party, this is me sister, Lizzie."

At least that's what I think he said, I couldn't hear a thing over the music. Gabe, whose name I learned later, turned to me and shook my hand.

I immediately felt the heated looks of the three girls that were standing there. One of them greeted Aaron like they knew him, wrapping her arm through his and shooting me a triumphant look when he grinned at her. I couldn't begrudge the girls too much, I knew I looked gorgeous. Straight natural blond hair styled perfectly, unlike their teased, curled, straightened over processed attempts at 'high fashion' hairstyles. My makeup was artfully applied smoky eyes that made my blue/grey eyes shine while they looked like drowned raccoons. I stood elegantly in my high heels and custom tailored dress while they leaned agaist each other just to keep their balance in clothes just one step above those of prostitutes. Let them glare all they wanted, we all knew who was better. Besides, anyone with half a brain could tell Aaron and I were related. Same eyes, hair, nose. To think we were together was just idiocy.

Ignoring the girls, I turned to Gabe and asked where the drinks were, not wanting to spend anymore time with Aaron's 'friends'. He pointed to a swinging door and I walked briskly to it, waving Aaron's attempt to follow me away.

I walked into the kitchen where there were thankfully less people. The noise was also dampened and I could hear my thoughts again. I looked at the sticky mess that was the drink table where hunch punch, beer, and other liquors were placed next to blue plastic cups. I grimaced as I picked up the plastic, feeling the thin material bow under my fingers. I went over to the fridge and found a container of filtered water there, pouring a glass. I looked around the small kitchen and shook my head mentally at my brothers idea of a ;great party'.

Let me clarify, this boy, Gabe's family, was probably rich by American standards. Their house was probably worth $600,000 and his father probably made that much a year. His parents probably had a beach house, he probably got a expensive new sports car at sixteen, and went to Stanford on Daddy's dime. So understand when I tell you that $600,000 is the small change my father plays with on the stock market for fun. That my manor cost $50 million dollars, and the house expenditures are $300,000 a year; covering the employees pay and any landscaping or maintenance. We own six such 'homes' all over the world. For my sixteenth birthday I had a ball thrown in my honor getting three new sports cars, two beach manors (one in Italy, one in Spain), and a diamond encrusted gown. Oh, and the Queen was there with her family. So understand when I say my brother was really slumming-it with these friends.

I leaned against the counter as I sipped at my water, watching as a few people trickled in and refilled drinks before returning to the crowded living room. I began to run through a new routine I was working on, not noticing anything else around me until I felt a hand wrap around my upper arm. I turned and immediately got a face full of alcohol coated breath from the large guy looming over me. His blotchy red face leered down at me.

"Heys baby. You an' me, we'zzz gonna haf a GREAT time toni'."

I glared at him, trying to take my arm back, but he was sronger. "let me go you drunk, before I make you."

"oh! Kibby go' cwalsss. Gonna go get a cuppa tea?" he started laughing then, his fake accent funny only to him. I began to lower the temperature of my free arm, ready to show him a new meaning of 'blue balls' when a flurry of yellow burst into my line of sight.

""Lance! Thank God I found you, didn't you hear? Robby and Kurt are fighting, right now. Go, go watch the fight!"

'Lance' looked over at my savior before a huge grin broke out on his face and he screamed "FIGHT!" before running out of the room, leaving me with only a few bruises and a dumb look on my face.

"I'm so sorry about that. Lance is really a nice guy, I promise. He's just going through a tough breakup and I kinda got him really drunk on the punch, cause I told him there was no alcohol in it, but there is, like a lot a lot of alcohol, so he's plastered and I'm so sorry he did that to you. I'm Lisa by the way. And that is a gorgeous dress, did you know? I made my dress, but I guess you can tell that. My mom always says I let my inspiration take me away and that it's not always to a flattering place. But I like it a lot, it really fits my personality lately. Yellows my favorite color right now. I think that winter is far to dreary for all the blues, and maroons, and blacks people wear during it. Not that your dress isn't gorgeous. Yours really is, perfect for you I mean. Who made it?"

I blinked. Then, just to be sure I wasn't imagining her, blinked again. Nope, not crazy. There really was a petite Asian girl practically bouncing in front of me. Her bright yellow dress the first thing I noticed. It was a sunflower dress. The skirt bright yellow petals that fell to her knees with a brown belt low on her hips and an A line bodice with brown beads sparkling in random places all over the top. Her emerald green heels really pulled it all together. the most striking thing though, was her hair. It was yellow. Not blonde, or streaked yellow, but pure 'sunflower' yellow. The short pixie cut framed her small face and bright green eye shadow. She was bizarre, but also beautiful in a strange way.

"So? Where'd you get it?"

I mentally shook my head, focusing on her words, "get what?"

She giggled, "Your dress?"

"Oh, Chanel."

Her eyes lit up. "For real? Oh my god, I've always wanted a Chanel dress, but my mom is such a stickler for me to wear only what she or I can make ourselves. But, oh I love Chanel, fashion week last year was amazing! Did you see?"

"Not really, I appreciate the clothes I get, but I can't say I'm big into fashion. It's just expected of me to dress in designer clothes."

"Really? Are you a politician's daughter? Is that why?"

I shrugged, "Something like that."

She laughed again, her smile infectious as I began to grin as well.

She had just started telling me all that she could remember about fashion week, and how she really wished she'd be allowed to go when a tall thin boy around our age walked into the kitchen and practically ran up to her.

"Lisa, thank god I found you."

"Ryan, what's up? You having fun?"

"We need to go. Lance is passed out in the bushes. I can't get him up and he needs to go. Are you good to drive?"

She frowned in concern, "of course, I'll be right there. Try to get him up again and I'll bring the car to the driveway."

She turned to me, smiling apologetically, "I'm so sorry, but I've got to go. It was great meeting you! Hope you have a great night and don't mind my monopolizing your time."

"Don't worry about it…" but she was gone. Sighing I looked around, sipping the last of my water as a particularly fit blond boy walked in. his eyes took me in, a handsome enough grin on his lips as he pointed to himself, then me, then upstairs.

I glanced at his body and the time before decided to follow him from the room. No idea how to be bad? Well, now was as good a time as ever. Maybe this was the distraction, the excitment I needed.

At the very least I could say I had some fun tonight.

Around three in the morning we slowly creeped in the kitchen door, Aaron was drunk and I was partially carrying him into the room. Just as we made our way to the servant stairs by the fridge, a light turned on and we saw our father sitting at the table. His pale features were set and a stern glare was in his eyes.

"Bed, now Aaron." He said lowly. (think Liam Neason's voice)

Aaron swayed a little, opening his mouth to speak but I shshed him and pushed him towards the stairs. He glanced back at me, but went to the stairs stubbing up them.

My father turned to me, his hands clasped around a cup of tea that had a layer of frost on it. "I think it is clear to see I am disappointed in you young lady. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Well, I didn't think…"

"That's right, you didn't think did you?"

That stung, I opened my mouth to respond but he had continued on. He had dismissed me, invalidated me in one foul swoop.

"What about your brother? Encouraging him drink and fraternize with god knows who and what if someone were to inform the papers. The actions of you two reflects onto me. I always knew you couldn't understand the status and decorum that comes with our name, but to try to sabotage your brother? I am ashamed." He squeezed the cup until his fingers turned blue, steam coming off the cup in waves until it shattered, shards flying everywhere. A piece of frozen tea flew past my check slicing it. I grabbed my stinging check, tears already gathering in my eyes that I refused to let fall.

He looked shocked at the violence before he closed his eyes running a hand over his face and sighing. He stood up and grabbed a towel from the stove and dipped it under the faucet before coming towards me and pressing it to my face. I couldn't stop the flinch as he touched me, the first tear falling.

With another sigh I was left alone in the kitchen with a cold towel and an empty feeling in my heart.

A/N I've decided to turn this once oneshot into a story. Hopefully it will be well received and not too over the top. I hope you liked it, please R&R.