P.S. I Hate You

Let me begin by saying this:

There's only one thing I hate almost as much as him.

My klutziness.

I'd been getting better about it lately- or so I thought. Hello, I spent half the summer with a cast on when I foolishly tried to skateboard down the stairs...in our house... I spent the time repainting, yes.

But on my way in, running home to my kitchen door, my foot snagged on a broken piece of concrete my dad had yet to fix, which sent me flying into the backyard wooden door. I slid down and lay on my stomach a minute.

Awkward. Wierd.

Ow.

Once my bones settle, I slowly pick myself up. My hands are raw and scraped, my pants are dirty and my face hurts really, really badly. I rub it, thinking it's nothing- but it's sticky and hurts. I wince and step inside.

Mom. I swear quietly and try to inch past but she's already heading back to the kitchen so I try to turn and-

She gasps, covering her mouth. "Kiley, darling! Your face!"

"What about it?" I try to joke and fail. I never was that funny, I suppose.

She marches over, pulling my hand away. "Scratches... are those splinters? Kiley, what were you doing, running face first into wood? Everyone knows you try your shoulder first."

I roll my eyes. "I'll try to remember that next time, kay?" Then I wince as she pokes and prods at my skin. "Ow! That hurts, you know!"

"Sure looks like it does," she says blandly. "Get on the counter and I'll get the 'aid." She heads off, not even checking if I'll obey. But I do, cause last time I tried to bandage myself... well, it didn't work and let us leave it at that.

The next twenty-six minutes are spent cleaning up my right side of my face. Mother kept getting distracted since her cooking show was still going on and she really wanted to know how to make the perfect lobster. Gross.

"What did the neighbors think of the brownies?" Mother mentioned during a commercial.
"Uh... they.... loved them." Such a liar.

Five long splinters and a few others. Mother suggested seeing if I needed stitches but I shoved on a few small bandages, good as new, and ran off so she could get distracted by her show. Which she did within a minute or two, picking up the mess.

I opened my cell and quickly texted Rhea. 'Kill me!'

A minute later, she responded. 'Sure- in the Kitchen with the Candlestick at Midnight. Me. Why?'
I roll my eyes at her usage. 'House being invaded cross str
eet.'

The Waeters?

Yep.

Good or bad?

Thats why i nedz 2 die, dummy!

Why??

HE moved in!

Tlk bout weird

Tlk bout EVIL

We talked for another hour until mom called me down to dinner.

Stepdad was there, too. Already. My real daddy died five years ago, out walking my dog one night and hit by a drunk driver. He died instantly, but my dog, Boo, disappeared for a week. When he finally showed, I couldn't look at him and mother eventually gave him away. He was the perfect dad, proud to have a tomboy as a girl. He'd gone through tons of jobs and could teach me about anything and everything, always there for me.

Mother married Gerald four years ago, meeting at a holiday work party five months before. Gerald.... is the opposite. No idea how to take to kids, so little Benji, my six-year-old brother, gets all sorts of pressure unless I protect him. Because of course, Gerald must have the nicest clothes, nicest everything, and if he gets drunk... hide.

"So, did you see the new moving truck?" Gerald asked, trying to strike up conversation. "I heard they have a little boy." He nods towards Benji who's picking at the escargot. I'm just staring and trying not to puke.

"And their very own moron," I mutter under my breath, thinking of Caleb. Caleb Williams, my biggest foe. Evil dirt worm.

"What did you say?" Gerald asks, an edge to his voice. Crap- obviously not a good day in the office. He's a lawyer and loves to argue with us until he gets mad and... yeah.
"Nothing." I put on a fake smile but he knows its phony.

"Kiley..." He says in a warning tone.

"I was just saying they have a cool couch," I protest. It's a total complete lie, even though they do have an awesome couch... just completely out of context. But he doesn't know this lie.

He raises his eyebrow.

Mother interrupts. "I asked her to take some brownies over. You met them, then? How were they?"

"I hate him!" I scowl, shoving my fork into the... middle of the meal. Something's oozing out. "Ew!" I groan, pushing my plate away. "That's disgusting. I'm not hungry. Night." I start rising from my chair to escape.

"Sit back down!" Gerald says lividly. "And eat your meal!"

"You've got to be joking me! Have you seen it? It's disgusting!" I protest, refusing to move.

"Your mother worked hard on it, so you will sit down, keep your trap shut and eat!"

Ha. Mom bought it frozen at the store! "I can't eat if my 'trap' is shut," I snap.

This takes another three minutes, fighting. Finally, Gerald stomps up, grabs me by my ponytail, despite the feeble complaints of mother and my wincing. "Ow!"

"I don't want to see you down here again, go to your room, now! And you better apologize in the morning!"

I hurry upstairs the moment he lets go of my hair.

I really have to cut it or something. I massage my skull, leaning against the door in my room. I have to stay close, in case he starts on Benji. Mother says he just gets very stressed and has to take it out someplace. But then why does he have a punching bag? Ha- he doesn't need one when he has us. More particularly, me.

I thought it was good, as I started dozing, still leaning against my door. But I jolted awake, hearing glass break.

Yells.

My eyes widen and I hurry out of my room. Gerald would never inflict pain on mother, only. "Stop it!" I scream, running to Gerald and trying to take away the golf club. "He didn't mean it! Stop!" But I'm not that strong and he pushes me away.

I hurry and cover Benji just in time. I wince, taking the blow. "Move it, kid, in your room," I whisper. He runs and I turn. Just in time again and hits my face- just where I splintered it today, too. I fall to all fours.

"I said you need to stay in your room!" Gerald orders. "Move!"

I glance towards mom who's biting her lip. She's too scared to do anything. Before he can change his mind, I run up to Benji's room. "Benji?" I whisper softly.

He opens the door a crack and I push my way in and lock the door, hugging him close to stop the tears. "Hey, kid, it's okay, I'm here," I whisper, holding him in my lap on his bed.
We both fall asleep like this after a while.