A New Beginning

I swallowed and felt my face turn beet red as I looked at my aunt, who was giving me a look that could kill with her hands solidly planted on her hips. I was surprised smoke wasn’t coming out of her ears.

“I’m sorry,” I rushed. “The guy who usually gives me a ride and I got into an argument, and he left without me. And I forgot until my other friend went home, so I had to walk.”

Aunt Marisol’s arms crossed in front of her chest, and her eyes narrowed threateningly into slits. “So you walked home in the dark?! You could have been killed. You should have called to say that you’d be late so I didn’t have to park myself by the door, waiting for you!”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, bowing my head to stare at the blue flower detail on the tiles of the kitchen.

“You should be,” she huffed. I could hear her take a deep breath, which I took as my cue to look at her again. “You’re grounded for a week.”

My jaw dropped to the floor, and suddenly, I was the one who was ready to explode with anger. “But, Aunt Marisol! I have plans with a friend tomorrow.”

“Too bad.”

Her hostile tone, her genuine indifference to the fact that I had plans the next day, is what finally set me off, my mouth moving and forming words without my brain having a thing to do with it. “What the hell? You would never punish Santana like this! It’s not fair that you’re favoring her because she’s your real kid! It’s not like I asked to be here! In fact, if I had any say in the matter, I’d still in be in Texas with my friends. With my parents.” In all honesty, it wasn't like I really had any friends to miss, but Aunt Marisol didn't need to know that.

Aunt Marisol visibly stiffened. “You know as well as I do that coming here was within your best interests. You have a much better life here, away from your parents, who lived fix-to-fix.”

“So? It’s not like they’d be around me, poisoning my brain. They’re in jail, remember?”

“Sydney…”

“Or did you forget that your sister is in jail? Did you just wish that she was related to me, not you? How could you forget your own blood? Or did you disown her just because she made a couple mistakes in her life?”

“¡Càllate!” she snapped at me suddenly at a deafening volume.

My eyes widened as I stepped backward, shocked that she’d actually spoken Spanish. She usually didn’t, unless there was a gathering with some of our other relatives, still in Mexico. Plus, she told me to shut up, which wasn’t nice.

After clearing her throat, she seemed to get her head back a little bit. “Of course I haven’t forgotten about Mariana. Now, please go upstairs to your room. My punishment stands.”

“Favoritism isn’t fair,” I hissed as I turned my back and started walking away.

“Sydney, do not make me call Social Services and have them pick you up to put you in foster care! Is that what you want?”

I gritted my teeth together as I climbed the stairs, deciding that question was probably better left rhetorical.

Once I got to my room, I threw myself on my bed, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket. It only took me a second to call Finn and tell him that I could no longer hang out because Aunt Marisol was the biggest fucking bitch on the planet.

He responded that he understood, and we promptly made plans for the following week.

Downstairs, I could hear Aunt Marisol’s voice. The fact that it carried through the house alerted me that she was either venting to Uncle John or one of her friends about the whole situation.

It sucked because, even though I’d never thought of the favoritism thing before, I was right. Never in a million years would Aunt Marisol ground Santana. It didn’t matter if Santana came in stumbling in the middle of the night, totally rip-roaring drunk, when she promised to be home at eight. Santana was a perfect fucking angel who would never get in trouble for anything her entire life.

For a second, I thought about texting Puck to tell him to forget what I’d said earlier, that the plan was still on. But at the last second, I remembered that my beef was not with her; I wasn’t going to sink to that level.

Plus, Puck kind of hated my guts and was being confusing. Not that I could text him so we could meet up and talk, since I was grounded.

I slammed my head against the wall a little too harshly in frustration, and the frames on the other side rattled. Silently, I wished that one would crash to the floor, just to piss off Aunt Marisol a little bit more. But they stayed put, unfortunately.

Once I was done wallowing in my misery, I turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. I had to say, I was more than bummed that I had to cancel my plans with Finn for the next day. I hadn’t talked to him nearly enough recently, and that would have been the perfect opportunity to catch up.

But no. Fucking Aunt Marisol had to ruin everything.

Okay, so maybe I sounded a little bit like a melodramatic teenage girl. So what?

* * *

The next morning, I woke up to a loud knocking at the door. Groaning, I turned over and threw my comforter over my head, glimpsing at the alarm clock to see that it was only seven in the morning. SEVEN.

Then, about a minute later, there was another series of loud knocks. My heart started to race as I realized that there was no one else in the house. Which meant that I was going to have to answer the door to the stranger all by myself. That definitely wasn’t high on my list of favorite things.

Gulping down my fear, I grabbed an umbrella from the closet and made my way cautiously down the stairs. The knocks started again, scaring the crap out of me. Screaming, I dropped the umbrella on the floor with a loud bang.

Attempting to calm my racing heart (not very successfully), I picked up the umbrella and finished making my way to the door. “Who’s there?” I called, poised to swing my weapon if the person gave the wrong answer.

“Australia? It’s Puck. Can I come in? It’s friggin’ cold.”

Knitting my eyebrows together, I turned and unlocked the door, letting in Puck and a gust of freezing air. “What the hell are you doing here?” I questioned.

“Was that supposed to knock me out?” he laughed, gesturing to my umbrella.

“Only if you were a robber,” I defended, leaning it against the wall. “You going to answer my question?”

“I just wanted to say that I was…Um.” He cleared his throat before talking again. “I mean, I’m sorry about our argument yesterday. I should have listened to you about Santana because maybe you’re right. Maybe.”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “It’s okay. Are you going to answer my question, though?”

“I thought I just did.” His eyes went to the ceiling as he tried to recall what had just come out of his mouth.

“Not that question. The one about why you didn’t want to stop the scheme, even if Santana didn’t turn out to be the bitch that she wants everyone to think she is.”

“Oh, she’s definitely a bitch.” I gave him a look that told him not to avoid the subject. “Alright, fine. I, um, I don’t know. I guess I might like spending time with you. A little.”

For some reason, that was hilarious to me. “You enjoy arguing with each other every five seconds?”

“Yeah, kinda. It’s entertaining.” He shrugged and took another step forward. “Plus, maybe I kind of like you, Australia.”