P.S. I Hate You

I peak through my curtains curiously. The Waeters had moved out last month and someone was finally moving in. I wondered who...hey, that's a cool couch! I stare. I want that couch... It's black with wacky white designs on it.

Our couch? Tan. Our entire house is tan, beige, white, off-white... you get it. It's so blindingly dreadful. I wonder how I could convince my dad who could convince my mom to buy a nicer couch... after all, ours is what, twenty years old? It's older than me! And I'm nearly seventeen! Well, in five months- but still, seriously.

I see people stepping out of an old Volkswagen... hm. I like the lady. Early forties, probably- but her clothes are pretty cool. Totally bohemian. Nice. My mom is still stuck in the eighties or something, wearing basic straight dresses that look dreadful. I however, refuse to be seen in public with her and walk everywhere.

Another vaguely nice but somewhat familiar car is nearing... hm. Not bad. Old car, but the engine seems to be doing decently... I should know, since my cousin, Gage, works in an auto shop downtown and I go over now and then.

"Kiley!" I wince. My mom's great and all, but... when she's calling for me, it's not a good sign.

"Coming!"

I wonder if whoever's driving the car is going to sell it soon. I've been saving up my allowance and everything- and babysitting stuff my mom tricks me into. And cash from mowing lawns...
"Kiley!"
"Just a minute!" I yell back. Who is it? The owner of the car parked in the driveway but hasn't gotten out. I wonder if it's a boy or girl, and their age. At least mine, to be able to drive and all that. The two other adults have waved and are walking over...

"Kiley, come here, now!"

The door opened! I groan. Well, I'm sure I'll eventually meet them... mom'll make us dress up and invite them for dinner or something ridiculous like that. I open my door and head down the stairs after hitting the railing against a hipbone- ouch. "What, mom?" I ask- obviously annoyed.

She turns from the kitchen with a smile, but seeing my 'attire' she pursed her lips. "Darling, are you really wearing that?"

How did I know she'd say that? Oh, right, she asks that every morning.

I look down. Black skinny jeans, high top red converse very well worn and scribbled on in times of boredom. Studded belt hanging on my narrow hips... and a Senses Fail snug tee. I'd gone against both of my parents wishes and added black dye to the bottom of my hair and several streaks all over. Right now, after an hour of straightening, it was obeying. I also wore the usual dark make up and my favorite black glove with fingertips showing.

"It appears so," I say innocently. Of course she still doesn't like it. But she couldn't control what I wear.

"Kiley Regan Shiloh, what am I going to do with you?" She muttered- more to herself than to me, of course.

I shrug. "Can I leave?" I ask. If I turned my back, I'd probably be grounded and since I was planning on going to a concert, I had to keep my parents in a happy mood. Sort of, that is. I mean, yes they will ground me since I'm not allowed out so late, but it wont be so much grounding then... if that makes sense. Whatever.

Mother dearest sighs, shaking her head and pulls on a smile. "We've got new neighbors!"
Somehow she failed to get me excited. "Uh, whee?"

She nods. "I heard they actually lived nearby before- just on the outskirts of town, but they decided it was important to be closer to school and work. I just made a batch of brownies and I want you to take them over."

"Why don't you do it?"

She laughs. "You're so funny! My cooking show begins in two minutes, dear. Please go say hello. And don't forget the brownies!" She heads off... somewhere. I think to iron her apron. Seriously- we have three irons in the house. Once, I tried to use hers... and she freaked. So I haven't ironed any of my clothes since.

I roll my eyes, grab the platter and make sure some brownies are still here... yup. Good. I can gorge on them after. Speaking of which, I might as well get this over with. I open the extra kitchen door that steps out right in front of our backyard gate and head across the street, down one house.

I love that couch- it's still out there. But the people aren't. Which sucks. They're in the house, meaning they'll try to invite me in... What’s a good excuse? I rack my head and stumble up- tripping twice cause I forget the steps.

I consider just leaving the brownies here on the doorstep. Then wonder if they might not even see them and trample em. Poor brownies... but it would be funny, when you think about it. And it's not like it's mom's crystal dish or anything. Just a big paper plate. So it wouldn't really matter, right? Or would ants get to it, before the new family? But hello, they are moving in, so wouldn't they have to be coming out in a minute or two?

Too late. The door is opening and heat rises to my face. Great. Now these nieghbors are going to think I'm retarded, just standing on the steps with-

I stare, my face horrified. "You!" I gasp.

Him.

I shove the plate towards him, turn and run for my life.