Chapter 2
Kin
The sun was glaring through my window, forcing a grumpy groan from my throat. Reaching for my extra pillow, I pulled it over my face to block out the light, wishing I could block out the rest of the world in the process.
I couldn’t. I knew that I couldn’t. Didn’t mean I couldn’t wish.
The sound of the alarm on my phone, the alarm on the clock beside my bed, and the pounding on my bedroom door weren’t going to let me block anything out this morning. Grunting, I reached for my phone, silencing it with the swipe of my finger. The alarm on the clock beside my bed was a little more difficult seeing as I didn’t know much about the stupid thing that my step-monster had placed in my room when she had decorated the monstrosity of a room for me. So I reached for it blindly, jerked until the cord came free from the wall and the room was blissfully silent.
The pounding on my door continued, however. “Go away!” I yelled after lifting the pillow enough to free my mouth.
Apparently ‘go away’ meant ‘please enter at your leisure’ in this freaking house. The door opened and in walked my step-monster. I knew it was her, not because I’d lifted the pillow from my eyes, but from the suddenly overpowering scent of expensive perfume. The same perfume that had filled my lungs just the night before when Jillian had air-kissed each of my cheeks when she had met my father and me at the airport.
Of course there had been about ten cameras flashing as she had greeted me. Cameras that my step-monster had played it up for by greeting her husband with a kiss that had embarrassed me as well as made me want to vomit.
Gross.
“You’re going to be late for your first day of school, McKinley,” Jillian informed me in her cool tone. Honestly, after the warm greeting I’d received in front of the paparazzi the night before, it was a wonder if I didn’t get frostbite from the woman now. Of course, there were no cameras for her to play ‘happy family’ in front of today.
The pillow was suddenly pulled off my face and I glared up at Jillian as she pulled the covers off my bed and then turned and went to turn on my shower. A glance at the clock on my phone told me that I had a good hour before I had to be at school, which was only a ten-minute drive from my father’s Malibu house. Unlike Angie, I didn’t need an hour in the bathroom to get ready to go outside. A quick shower, a change of clothes, and I was set.
Jillian didn’t seem to care when I told her I didn’t need more than fifteen minutes to get ready. So instead of arguing, I crawled out of bed and trudged into the bathroom that was already steaming up from the shower. As I pulled my sleep shirt over my head, I ignored Jillian who was already setting out Dior makeup and some swanky salon’s hair products.
It took me five minutes to shower, most of that time spent on washing my long burnished red hair. When I turned off the water, Jillian gave me an odd look before turning back to what she was doing. A flat iron was already plugged in along with the hairdryer. Raising my brows at them, I dried off and then pulled my hair into a messy knot on top of my head. I grabbed my toothbrush and started scrubbing. Two minutes later I rinsed and walked back into my bedroom to pull on the uniform that I was expected to wear to school every day.
Ugh, I thought, grimacing at the black skirt that wouldn’t reach my knees and the white polo shirt that went with it. There was a black blazer hanging from the back of my closet door. If I was going to have to wear the skirt and blazer, the least they could do was let me wear my own top. So instead of putting on the white polo, I reached for my gray Metallica T-shirt and then pulled on a pair of boots. I didn’t return to the bathroom, just picked up the black messenger bag that had my name and my new school’s emblem on it.
Downstairs I made myself a slice of toast, smothering it in butter and strawberry jam before grabbing an individual sized orange juice. Stuffing the toast in my mouth, I picked up the juice and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door where my stepsisters were waiting for me.
If you looked at them and then looked at me you would know that there was no chance we could be related by blood. My two stepsisters, Georgia and Carolina, were dressed to kill. Literally. They had so much makeup, hair product, and perfume on that I was sure something or someone had been killed along the way. Maybe a few innocent animals, probably a few college kids who had been guinea pigs for some company to test their products on because the college kids had needed some extra money. All so my two stepsisters could look as beautiful and fake as they did right at that moment.
When they saw me walking toward them, their eyes narrowed. “Mother let you out of your room without your hair done?” Carolina demanded. Of the two she was the younger one, perhaps the smarter one as well. But no less stuck-up than her sister. Georgia, who was my age, was an exact replica of her mother. Down to the cool tone of her voice.
I shrugged as I continued to chew my toast. I only fixed my hair for school for one of two reasons: picture day, or prom. Neither were happening today so there was no way I was doing more to my hair than had already been done. “Who’s driving?” I asked, talking with my mouth full.
Georgia gave me a disgusted look but raised the set of keys in her hands. “I am, since Carolina doesn’t have her license yet. She’s only fifteen.”
“Okay, cool. I’m ready if you are.”
Georgia gave me another once over, sighed disgustedly and opened the door. Outside, the September sunshine was glaring down at me and I reached for my sunglasses from my messenger bag as I followed them to the little sports car already waiting in front of the house. I didn’t attempt to take the front passenger seat. For one, I didn’t want to make conversation with either of them. It was blatantly obvious neither liked me and, believe me, the feeling was mutual. Less than one day on the West Coast and I could already tell that not getting to know my two stepsisters would not have been a regret I would have minded having on my conscious for the rest of my life.
From the backseat of the very expensive sports car, I learned a whole lot about my stepsisters, though. One being that Georgia could not drive for beans. On more than one occasion I closed my eyes and prayed to whatever god still listened to me that I would get to school in one piece. Another thing was that Carolina could text one conversation while talking to her sister at the same time, but apparently Georgia could not drive and talk at the same time. I learned that neither of them had very good taste in music as they argued over which satellite station they would listen to. My poor ears were tortured with the sounds of some R&B dude as we pulled into a spot in the student parking lot that said it was reserved for Malibu Academy’s head cheerleader.
Really? A reserved spot for the head cheerleader? What the hell was a head cheerleader anyway? Did that mean she was the captain? The president of the cheerleading society? Wait, was there such a thing as a cheerleading society?
I’d have to remember to ask Angie later.
I climbed out of the back of the little car that would have sent Caleb into a fit of hysteria over the way Georgia had just driven it. Caleb was an engineering major, planned on becoming an automotive-designer, and loved his collection of fast toys that he had at our Virginia house. My stepbrother would have been raging had he seen the way Georgia had nearly taken out not only a mailbox and a stop sign, but a freaking water hydrant in the span of ten minutes.
“I’ll show you to the office,” Carolina offered as she waited for me to get climb out of the back seat.
“No, thanks. I got this,” I called over my shoulder as I put my Beats earbud in my left ear and turned on some actual music to soothe the pain of having to hear crap music on the trip to school. Seether filled my left ear and I sighed in relief as I entered the building.
Fifteen minutes later, as I stood in front of the secretary with all the documents that I’d been told to produce, I was already wishing I were back in Virginia. Jillian had called my cellphone not ten seconds after I had entered the building raging because I had left the house without my hair fixed or any makeup on. The principal had spotted me as soon as I had entered the office and I’d been forced to endure a five-minute lecture on why everyone had to wear white polo shirts under their blazers, and was made to promise to wear the correct garment the next day.
To top it off there were no extracurricular classes open that I was interested in. Thankfully, however, the secretary had promised me that she would work me into the school newspaper for my third-period class. If I couldn’t take the poetry class, at least I could do some kind of writing.
Finally the older woman handed me my class schedule and a map of the school. “Your first class has already started, so hurry along. If you need to make any changes to your schedule make sure you do so by the end of the week or this one will be filed as final.”
Picking up the sheets of paper, I glanced at the schedule and tried to refrain from rolling my eyes as I saw that it was trigonometry. Boring. I’d already taken trig back in Virginia, but obviously East Coast trig was so much different that West Coast trig and I had to learn it all over again.
The halls were empty as I made my way to my first class. It took almost five minutes but I finally found the designated classroom and opened the door. As I stepped inside, the class became silent. The teacher, who had been standing at the front of the class asking a question, paused long enough to look at me.
“Can we help you?” he asked in a bored tone.
“I’m McKinley Montez,” I informed him as I stepped toward him, offering him the schedule so that he could confirm I was in the correct room.
The teacher’s eyes widened and he gave me another once over before accepting my schedule. I knew he couldn’t be surprised that I was Scott Montez’s daughter. Malibu Academy was full of celebrity brats. So what was the big deal about me? Maybe because I looked nothing like my high profile father? Or was it because I’d never been in the tabloids with my father and no one had actually seen what I looked like until my mother’s death? Scott had played Abby’s death up to the media and had made my life even more hellish from the moment my mother had passed away.
I was one hundred percent my mother’s daughter with my long willowy body, dark red hair, and big blue eyes. My skin tone was alabaster and, yes, I did in fact have some curves. No, they were not plastically enhanced like my step-monster’s were. If asked, I would admit that I was cute, but I wouldn’t say that I was necessarily beautiful.
“I’m Mr. Blankenship. Go ahead and take your seat, Miss Montez.”
I shrugged and took the only available seat, which was two rows over from the door and three chairs back. I kept my eyes on my desk until I was seated, then pulled out my notebook and a pen in case I needed to take notes, but I figured I was just going to be doodling until class was over.
As Mr. Blankenship went back to his lecture, I heard a few whispers and giggles from behind me and gritted my teeth. Two seconds in my first class and I was already getting laughed at. Great. Rolling my eyes at yet another giggle from right behind me, I put an ear bud in my left ear and focused my eyes ahead so that I at least gave the impression I was paying attention. Wasn’t like I was going to hear anything out of my right ear anyway. I’d lost all hearing in it when I was a toddler. I’d had ear infection issues that had led to having to get tubes, but not before I’d completely lost all hearing in my right ear.
If trig was boring, then my second class was a snooze fest. History was not my favorite subject. If anything it was at the top of my list of classes to torture me with. I was hoping for a seat near the back, but of course there wasn’t one. Instead I got stuck smack dab in the middle of everyone. As I took the seat, I felt everyone’s eyes drilling into me. I wanted to ask what they were looking at, but of course I didn’t. It was too soon to start showing my true colors. I didn’t want to freak them out with how outspoken I tended to be. Not yet at least.
The bell rang and the teacher, Mrs. Crane, stood from behind her desk where she had been watching everyone dispassionately and started to lecture in her coma-inducing monotone. I really wanted to put my earbud back in, but history wasn’t exactly my favorite subject. As much as I hated it, I had to pay attention in this class.
For a few minutes.
“Hey,” I heard someone from behind me whisper, but I ignored them at first.
“Hey, you. Montez.” A balled up piece of paper landed on my desk and I had no choice but to acknowledge the person behind me and to my right.
Have you ever looked at someone for the first time, and in the moment your gazes meet realized that this person was going to be a major part of your life? I have had that feeling twice in my life before that moment. The first time was when I was four and I met Angie and Caleb for the first time after my mom and Carter had been dating for a few weeks.
The second time…
Well, I didn’t want to think about the second time I’d had that feeling. What I had thought was going to be the most important person in my life had destroyed my heart just weeks after my mother had been given the devastating news that she wasn’t going to last the rest of the year.
But in the instant I met those dark eyes, I knew that this chick was going to be my new best friend.
When I saw the girl seated there I blinked again, sure that I was seeing things. But no. She remained the same when I opened my eyes for the second time. To say this girl was beautiful would have been an understatement. She wore very minimal makeup that highlighted her nearly black eyes and long lashes. There was some product in her crazy curly hair, but that was to tame the mass of rich dark perfection. The only imperfection was the slight scar just above her lip and at the very bottom of it, but that just only added to her beauty in an odd way.
“What?” I whispered back at her.
“What lunch do you have?”
I glanced back at my schedule. “First lunch.”
She grinned. “Good. Wait for me after class.”
I frowned but she just turned her attention back to Mrs. Crane and her lecture. Shaking my head, I tried to concentrate for a few more minutes before the teacher’s voice became to much and I put my Beats earbud back in. I pretended to pay attention while skimming over the chapter she was discussing and tapping my foot to the new OtherWorld single that had just recently been released.