What it all comes down to |Chapter 1|

Chapter one

The loud knocking on my door would have woken me up, but my alarm clock had taken that opportunity away less than thirty seconds ago.

“What?!” I yelled.

Christian stuck his head in the door and smirked. “Dad say’s you have to get up… now.”

I yawned and rolled my eyes. “Chris…” I whined.

“Shayla, seriously, now.”

“No!” I said annoyed. I sat up and glanced at the clock. 5:30. “I’m tired of this! It’s Saturday and we’re up at the crack of dawn for some stupid party that’s hours, I repeat, hours from now!”

“Do we really have to go through this every Saturday? Cant you just get up and spare me this little tantrum?”

“Ugh! I hate this house!” I threw the pillow that I had been laying on over my head and held it there tightly.

“It hates you too, especially in the morning.” Chris mumbled sarcastically. I heard my door shut and I pulled the pillow from over my head. He was gone.

I sat up and walked into my bathroom to prepare for the long day ahead. See, Saturday’s in this house weren’t normal Saturdays… not exactly. Most sixteen year olds my age were sleeping till noon, or just about. I on the other had had to wake up, shop for the perfect dress, put on a fake smile, and pretend my life was perfect when all my step-father’s co-workers, friends, and extended family arrived for their weekly summer dinner party.

Summer had been this way for as long as I can remember; Snobby rich people coming over to our house to gossip and eat perfectly arranged food off of shiny new plates. It was bad enough that I was forced to attend every week, but even worse that around this time of year, my step-brother is crowned “most supportive” child. It’s disgusting.

After taking my shower and getting dressed in a pair of short black shorts and a pink tank top, I slipped on a pair of black flip flops and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast.

Everyone was at the table. My mother, “father” and “brother”, were all eating the breakfast that Francisca, the maid, had made for them.

“Morning.” I mumbled as I sat down.

“Good morning,” My father said. “Chris is going to drive you both to the mall to find something to wear for tonight and for school on Monday… you have your card, right?”

I nodded.

“That new wing in the mall opened today… I know you’re ecstatic.” My mother added on.

I nodded again and gave a sarcastic smile.

“What time will you be ready?” Chris asked.

“I am ready.”

“You’re wearing shorts that are shorter than your shirt.” He made a face and then glanced down at my thighs.

“Your point?”

“Let her wear what she wants, Chris.” My mother said.

“We can’t leave now anyway… the mall doesn’t open until ten.” I said with gritted teeth. “… all the more reason for me to be able to get a decent amount of sleep without interruption’s from world’s most annoying family!”

“Shuuttt uuppp!” Chris said over dramatically. “I’m tired of your mouth… this time of year only gets worse when your mouth is involved.”

“What?” Dad asked, shocked.

“Well she does have a point. I’m tired of waking up at five thirty in the morning too!”

“It’s job promotion, it pays for everything in this house.”

“Ugh! Can we go now?” I cut in.

“The mall doesn’t open until ten” Chris mimicked in a girly voice.

I rolled my eyes and got up to go get my purse. “I’ll be in the car.”

I slammed the house door forcefully, just to add emphasis on the fact that I was pissed with each and every one of them.

“What is wrong with you, shay?” Chris asked as he got in the car.

I rolled my window down as soon as he turned on the ignition. It was early in the morning, yes, but that wasn’t affecting the eighty degree weather.

“My life is what’s wrong with me…”

“The party is only for a few hours and after that… no more for the next year.”

“Sure, sure.”

“We have to stop at Cristina’s house…”

“What?!” I yelled.

“I promised her I’d stop by before we went to the mall… she wants to talk to me about something.”

“She’s your girlfriend… don’t make her my problem!”

He tuned out my voice by blasting music on the radio. I was so tired though, the music didn’t keep me awake; I was sleep before the end of the song.

“What do you mean? Y—you can’t be!” I heard my brother’s voice in my dream, but it sounded hysterical.

“But I am Chris… I’m sorry you feel that way.” This voice sounded more like Cristina. “I’m keeping it.”

I woke up to the sound of Chris slamming the door. We were outside of Cristina’s house, but he was turning the car on instead of off.

“What are you doing?” I asked, groggily.

“Driving! What the hell does it look like?” He shot back.

I sat up instantly. “What’s wrong with you?”

He let out a long exasperated breath. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

I tried to keep my eyes off of him as he drove, but I couldn’t. He looked confused, hurt, and most of all… he looked desperate for something. I wasn’t sure what was going through his head. But, the fire in his eyes scared me… I couldn’t bring myself to ask.