That Four Letter Word

When I got home my mother was waiting for me in one of the sitting rooms. She was sitting on an old antique sofa next to a grand fire place that was popping with orange flames.
"There you are," she said in a tight voice, putting down her book. "Go try on the dress, I put it on your bed in your room."
"I'm not feeling well, I don't think I have much of an apetite for dinner." I put my hand on my stomach, but had no luck.
She scowled at me and stood up, placing the book on the coffee table. "You are going to dinner. Your father is only here for one night until he goes away again, and so I would like to have a family dinner. Now go up and change!" She let out a breath, slightly embaressed by her tone, and shook her head. "Go."
I bit my lip, fighting back a tear, and turned sharply on my heels. Fine, if she wanted me to go to dinner then I'd go to dinner. I marched up three floors to my room and slammed the door. It was no use, it's not like she could hear because of this big house, but it made me feel a little better.
I walked over to my king sized bed and saw the blue dress sprawled out again the white silk blanket. My hands brushed against it. It was definatly blue, a dark blue, with a black flower-embelished shoulder strap. The length went right above my knees. The top was tight against my rib cage and the bottom half flowed loosely down. It was gorgeous, too perfect for an evening in, I thought. It showed off my long, slim arms and tiny waist, while exagerating my long legs. My mother always knew how to dress me well, if only I liked this sort of style.
After putting on the dress and curling my long, smooth hair, I added a few gold bracelets and a blue diamond necklace that matched the dress. Then, feeling simpatheic to my mother-God knows why-I took out a handband from my drawer and placed it on my head. It was gold with a blue flower on the side made out of hundreds of tiny diamonds so whenever I moved it sparkled, bringing out the blue in my eyes as well. Once everything was done and there was nothing else to add I left my room.
When I walked down stairs I saw my mother and father in the dining room, seated at oposite ends of the twenty-foot-long table. They seemed to be talking about something unsettling because my mother's hand was on her forehead and my father's face was red. I crept in behind a plant and listened.
"We have enough going on as it is, Howard!"
"Like what, Denise? Your book club? Your charity events? Those silly benifits?" my father's fist was in the air. I never saw him get angry at her before. Actually, I've never seen him really get angry. He always believed in settling things the right way, by talking through them in a civilized manner. This, I was thinking, was not very civilized.
"Those are very important to me and people count on me everyday! And how do you expect to raise two others if we can't even raise our own daughter?" she snapped.
My ears perked up at the mention of me. What were they talking about, raising two others? I felt my heart beat faster as I thought about it. Are they adopting? Fostering?
"What do you mean? Keira's fine." He waved his hand like my mother was over exagerating.
"Fine? Is that why she never talks to me unless spoken to? Is that why we hardly see her and she's always off by herself? Is that why we have no idea what's going on in her life? She's been like this for over a year!" my mother started to cry and my dad got up from his chair to comfort her.
"Denise, it's okay. Keira is just going through something. All she needs is time and space and she'll be her old self again." His voice was soothing and I remembered him comforting me too when I was little and something happened. Those days seemed like dead stories instead of memories.
So my mother knew there was something wrong...nothing gets past her.
"Oh, Howard, I don't know what to do with that girl. She's not acting very civilized. Painting her nails black, wearing dark colors, hiding her beautiful body under baggy cloths. She could have any man she wants and yet she's only had one boyfriend who she won't even talk about anymore, and that other buy who she's always with..."
"Jordan? They're best friends."
"Yes. But I don't find him very suitable for her."
"Well, neither do I but we have to let her learn for herself. When she's older she can obey the rules and learn the type of man who is suitable, but for now let's let her have some fun."
She huffed, "fun Right..."
"Well, maybe the Jensen kids will be good for her. Get her mind off of things."
My mother looked up at him as he returned to his seat. "Howard, are you sure of this?"
"You were the one who said so at first. You can't change your mind. The paper work is done and they're coming tomorrow. That is why I'm here for this dinner, so we can tell Keira."
"Yes, well...where is that girl anyways?" she wiped her eyes with the cloth napkin and looked at the French doors.
I walked through them and prepared myself for what they were going to tell me. I had a feeling something was going to change. I didn't like change usually, but maybe this would finally be something good.
"There's my beautiful daughter!"

I tumbled down onto my bed, looking up at the ceiling. Sighing, I took out the gold locket from my bedside table and held it on my stomach. I felt the engraved flowers on the cold locket, gliding my fingers over the picture inside. It was a picture of me and him, Dillion. He was holding me up in the pool at my house, water dripping down my sides, my arms spread out like an eagle, and Dillion grinning widely. His shaggy blond hair was half in his face and half blowing in the wind, and his thirteen-year-old body was beginning to mature into a strong teenager. My own body was small and fragile, but glowing with a summer tan, and my hair was damp and wavy, reaching just past my shoulders. My smile was shining white and my eyes matched the pool water almost perfectly, just a bit more blue. We looked so happy, like a catalog for swimwear. It was the best year of my life. It was the year we fell in love and the year he gave me this locket.
I haven't seen Dillion is almost a year. It killed me thinking at the picture. It was something special though because it was almost like seeing a stranger, or an old friend that passed away. I knew I'd never be that happy again and I knew I'd probably never see Dillion again, so looking at the picture was like looking into a coffin.
I put the locket back in the drawer and sat up on my bed, twideling with the fringe on my pillow. Tonight came as a complete shock to me. I never knew my dad and mom would ever be considerate enough to do what they did. It almost made me proud to call myself their daughter.
They told me that they're adopting two children, well one teenager and one child, to get them out of the foster care system. They're parents abondoned them on the side of the road when the youngest was only two years old, and then their foster parents neglected them. They didn't feed them, cloth them, or give them proper attention. They were drug addicts, apparently, and so when social services came they took the children away and that's where my parents came in. My parents knew that these kids would never get proper treatment as long as they stayed in the foster care system, so they adopted them.
Tomorrow they'd come, and it made me slightly nervous. I wasn't sure why...maybe I was afraid they'd hate me for my privledges or they just wouldn't like me or might find me too shy, I wasn't sure. But I was frightened. The oldest was a boy named Derington who was my age, sixteen. Supposedly he liked swimming a lot and was on the swim team at his old school, and he also liked basketball. The youngest was a girl, Jennifer, who was five. She was a girly girl and liked dressing up and wearing pink, also she loved to draw and paint, like me. I was excited for her because I'd always wanted a younger sister who I could talk to and mentor in a way. The little kids in my neighborhood were annoying and snobby, a replica of their mothers, only minitureized.
As I thought about tomorrow I realized it was a school night and I still had homework to complete. Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself out of bed and walked over to my study. Maybe homework would distract my mind from worrying about tomorrow and whether they'll like me or not.

During school I told the guys about my new living situation and they were thrilled about the change. David and Jasper were excited that Derington played basketball, but Jordan was a little jealous that he'd be living in the house. After yesterday, I didn't really talk to him much one-on-one, but by the look on his face he still wasn't over our argument. So instead of hanging out with them I decided to go straight home and stand up to my fears of finally meeting my new siblings.
When I pulled into the garage and walked through the heavy front doors I noticed our cook had baked. The entire main floor smelled like apple cinnimon muffins. I took in the smell and smiled. Our house, for once, actually smelled like a home and not a museum with large funiture. As I walked through the grand hallway I saw our maids scurrying around, trying to child-proof everything I guessed. I circeled a few of the sitting rooms and the library but I didn't see anyone. Maybe they were upstairs putting their things away still. So I thought of going outside to our garden to see if my mom needed help settlying them.
She was always outside helping the gardener or admiring our award-winning scenery. We had dozens of trees and flowers and plants, two ponds that met each other in the middle of our backyard, with a bridge over it. There was also a patio and BBQ and tables for many people, and a gazebo and two tennis courts. The swimming pool was at the side of the estate by the pool house of course, and the houses next to ours were still half a block away so we had privacy.
As I walked through the path to the roses I saw her, Jennifer. She was running around the flowers, not on the flower beds, but on the path around them, stopping every few rounds to smell them. Her body was small, I was guessing she couldn't be more than fifty pounds, maybe even forty, and her skin was light. It was so light that there were no tan lines or anything, it was pure. Her hair was blond and to her shoulders, wavy but not culy, and she was wearing a pink robbon around it to keep it out of her face. Her dress was also pink, with white polka dots and a white bow on the back, which matched her white shoes. She was so cute and perfect that you'd never expect her to be unwanted.
I saw her look at me and her eyes grew wide with interest but hesitation. She decided to come right up to me and she drew out her hand.
"Hi. My name's Jennifer, but you can call me Jenny." Her voice was high and saprono-like, kind of like mine but younger sounding.
I shook her tiny, soft hand and smiled shyly. "It's nice to meet you, Jenny. My name's Keira."
"Keira," she repeated. I wanted to laugh when she said my name because it was hard for her to say it, but it was so cute.
"Do you like the roses?" I walked over to one and held it gently in my hand then smelled it.
"Yes. They're beautiful!" she ran up to were I was and smelled the flower I was holding.
"Keira, there you are!" my mom put her phone down on the glass table in the center of the rose garden and walked over to us. "I see you've met Jennifer already."
"Jenny, yes, we met already." I smiled at Jenny who relayed the action.
"She'll be in the room next to yours, just in case she needs you at night or something."
Right, because you wouldn't want to get up and ruin your sleep schedule, I thought. "Cool."
"Well, Jennifer, what would you like for dinner?" my mom picked up her phone from the table and started texting.
"Um..." her eyes consentrated on something for a moment and then she looked at my mom. "I don't know."
"Well what do you like to eat?"
"Chicken strips."
I laughed at her honesty but my mom frowned.
"Chicken strips? Well, what about BBQ chicken?"
Jenny thought for a minute and then nodded. "Can we have mac and cheese with it?"
"Mac and cheese?" my mom wrinkled her nose.
"We can have mac and cheese," I looked at Denise, nodding my head, but she looked skeptical.
"I'll help you make it! Can I stir the cheese?" Jenny put her hands together as if she were praying, and she mouthed 'please' at least six times.
"Ha, ya...sure..." I've never actually cooked in the kitchen before but I'm sure I could do mac and cheese. It couldn't be that hard.
"Keira, you don't have to do that, I'm sure the cook can make it himself."
"No, that's okay, I'll do. Or, we'll do it," I smiled at Jenny who was jumping up and down.
"Well...okay, since your father isn't here I guess that'd be alright. Tell Derington what we're having and make sure he's okay with it too, or the cook can make him whatever he wants." She waved and walked over to the entrance to the kitchen.
"Do you want to meet my brother?" Jenny tugged on my arm, "come on, I'll show him to you."
It was like she was showing me her pet cat the way she talked about him, but I followed her into the house.
She took me through a few sitting rooms and even a couple bathrooms looking for him. It was obvious she didn't know her way around, but she was insistant on doing things herself so I couldn't offer any help. After about ten minutes of wondering she found him in a tv room in the east wing. He was sitting on the couch looking at the tv, but not really watching it. I could tell because his eyes couldn't stay on the tv.
Jenny entered the room, dragging me along with her. When Derington saw her he smiled and she jumped into his lap. I was suprised at how nice they were to each other. He looked up from Jenny and saw me standing a few feet away, awkwardly looking at the tv and then at them.
"This is Keira!" she shouted and she extended her arm to demonstrate my presence. "She's nice and pretty." I supposed that was her way of introducing people, and it made me smile nervously, as if I had to unhold that image.
"Hi," I waved shyly.
His eyes stayed on mine as he got up from the couch and shook my hand. These people had manners, I thought. "Nice to meet you, Keira. I'm Derington." His smile showed a row of white pearls. I smiled back self consciously and when he let go of my hand I put mine behind my back.
"Do you like it here?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Uh, ya. It's...different then what we're used to." He was clearly talking about the house.
I half smiled. "Ya..." my eyes roamed the high ceiling and then down to the paintings on the wall, and the plasma screen. "You'll get used to it. What are watching?" I got distracted by the movie that was on.
He realized the tv was still on and pushed the pause button quickly.
"Hey!" Jenny complained.
"Ha, uh, I'm really into horror movie, specially the old ones." He bit his lip nervously as looked up at me.
"I love Scream, it's like my favorite horror movie!" I couldn't believe this guy was into horror, it was my favorite genre.
"Really? A lot of girls don't know about it because it's old."
"Are you kidding me? It's a classic." We both looked at each other for a moment and then Jenny broke the silence.
"I can't watch horror movies," she pouted.
Derington turned toward his sister and changed the channel for her.
"Spongebob!" she clapped and then turned silent for the remainding time.
I laughed and caught Derington's eyes. They were a beautiful green, like a blade of grass or the outside of a water melon. It looked great with is wavy blond hair.
"So, what's for dinner?" he asked.
I was taken out of my trance and I looked back up.
"Well, Jenny wants BBQ chicken and mac and cheese. We were going to make the mac and cheese but I guess she's busy." I smiled as I watched her laugh at the cartoon. Her legs were too short to reach the ground, so they dangled over the over-sized couch.
"I can help you make it."
"If you want to, sure."
I didn't bother telling him we had a cook who could do that because I didn't want to seem too snobby. So instead I led him to our two-story kitchen and started getting out the supplies. I was sure we needed cheese, butter, noodles, and possibly milk. Really, I didn't know what I was doing, but Marcus, our cook who'd been here all my life, was there to help.
"Can you hand me the...plate thing?" I asked Derington.
"Oh my goodness, who taught you how to cook!" Marcus ran over behind Derington and gathered a bowl, the right spoon because aparently I got the wrong spoon, and a grater for the cheese.
"Uh, you taught me how to cook!" I yelled at him, smiling because Derington was trying hard not to laugh but it just looked like he was constipated.
"Oh." Marcus frowned and took the lump of cheese from my hands and started grating it.
I crossed my arms and looked over at Derington who was smiling. I shook my head and sighed. "Well, I guess you're going to make the mac and cheese. Just remember, it's mainly for a five-year-old so don't add too much phoo-phoo." I walked out of the kitchen with Derington and collapsed on a giant bean bag chair in the sun room. The room was meant for saturday moring coffee and scones, so there were tons of pillows and bean bags and fluffy blankets everywhere.
"I can't believe you live like this," he sat down on a green bean bag that matched his eyes.
I shrugged.
"So Marcus taught you how to cook so well?" he smiled again, "did your mother ever teach you?"
I laughed at his question, "someone would have to teach her first."
"Oh. Well, what did you and your mother do when you were little then?"
I thought about that but couldn't think of anything. "I guess she's taught me manners and how to dress nicely."
"When you were little?"
"Ya."
He was silent for a minute and I wondered if I said something wrong.
"You're not very close to her then, are you?"
"No, not really."
"So she gives you all of this and doesn't want to enjoy it with you?"
"I think she figures that if she gives me everything she won't have to fuss with me and I won't bother her."
"That's selfish."
I shrugged again, feeling a little uncomfortable about how open I was being with him. I never talked this much with anyone.
"So what do you do for fun around here?"
"Ha, I'm not the person to ask."
"Why not? You don't party?"
I stopped laughing and looked at the floor. Just breath. He was just asking a question so be a normal person and answer it.
He noticed my change in behavior. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
It took me a few seconds to get back to the conversation, and I kept my eyes on the rug underneath my bean bag. "That's okay. No, I don't."
"Do you play sports?" he changed the quesion.
"No," I looked up again. "I'm not much into sports. I'll watch, but I'm so bad at them."
"Well at least you take interest in them. What do you like to do?"
"I like to draw pictures."
"Of what?"
"People, scenery...anything, really. Why do you want to know so much about me?"
"I guess I want to know who I'm living with. So I know whether it's a good idea to sleep with a knife under my pillow or not."
We both laughed at his joke.
"You're very wise, but I don't think that's necessary. We have a very good security system. State of the art."
"I have no doubt about that." He smiled at me.