Chapter one
CASSIDY
Today is not a good day.
I'm trying to make my suitcase move, but of course one of the wheels turns out to be faulty. It's like someone doomed this day.
Hauling the suitcase behind me, I curse out loud, knowing my father wouldn't approve, which makes cussing all the more fun.
My day is even worse, knowing he couldn't be bothered to come get me himself. He sent a cab instead, but I will not let anyone see how upset I am. It's his way of getting back at me for my less-than-perfect score on my finals. Knowing I've disappointed him hurts more than any low grade I could ever get.
My father, Tony, re-married a few months ago. It was like taking a knife to my chest when I heard the news, because up until he called, I hadn't even heard of this woman, Valerie Manning. I don't know when or how he met her. I don't know shit, because I guess I'm not important enough for them to involve me in their lives.
Daddy wants a picture-perfect family with his new wifey and her kid. I don't know where I fit in with my filthy mouth and skimpy clothes. But regardless, Daddy wants us to spend the summer together this year, getting to know each other.
The most painful thing about this is the fact that we're staying at the beach house – a new, fancy name for what used to be my home. This house is where I grew up, back when Mom and Dad were still together. It'll be fucking painful to see another woman trying to take Mom's place. My poor mom works such long hours, goes on disastrous dates and is the one who got the shitty end of the stick when my parents divorced.
So, I've already decided – I'm going to make this summer unbearable for little wifey and her kid. He’s probably some Spiderman-loving pre-teen with an addiction to his PlayStation console. Yuck.
The cab I take from the airport drops me off at the gates to the beach house. That would have been all fine and dandy, had Daddy dearest not decided to change the security code on the gates.
Of course, nobody is home to answer the doorbell either, so what am I supposed to do? I am most definitely not expecting to be climbing the gates to our beach house at 8.30 on a Sunday morning.
But that is what I have to do, hauling my suitcase over first, giving my leg a nasty cut in the process and almost tumbling over the gates. Boy, what a fun way to start the summer.
I stop in front of the house, trying to catch my breath, hoping the key Daddy gave me will work. At least the door is cooperative, opening right away. I stumble inside the house with a heavy sigh.
The suitcase stays in the hall, already forgotten as I venture inside. I must admit I'm a little curious what the house looks like now, after so many years have passed.
And it's nothing like I'd remembered it, which makes me purse my lips in annoyance. It sure didn't take long for the new wifey to get ahold of the place and make it just the way she wanted.
There's no denying the fact that the house looks nice, though. It used to be filled with crumbly furniture and musty blankets. Now, there are modern shapes and all-white cushions covering everything. It looks breezy and beautiful, which for some reason makes me even angrier.
Who does she think she is, strolling in here and changing everything? I grit my teeth as I run upstairs to my room, already preparing myself for a nasty surprise.
As soon as I open the door, I see my old bedroom looks nothing like it used to. There's a huge bed in the middle with a canopy; everything is in pastel purple and pretty whites and beiges.
Eew. What a cliché.
It does look kind of pretty, though.
I try to deny that I'll enjoy sleeping in the luxurious French bed, as opposed to the creaky single I used to have. This woman has managed to convince my father to upgrade – no idea how – but to be honest, the place looks… better.
But it's not so easy to trick me. Valerie Manning snooping around my room, messing with my things, even if it is in the name of renovation, makes me angry. She has no fucking right to move my stuff.
I pull out a box from under the bed with defiance, yanking out an old and dusty teddy bear and placing him on top of my pillow. Standing back, I look at it with satisfaction.
"There you go, Mr. Fuzz," I say to the teddy bear. "We'll fight this woman together, won't we?"
Then I realize I'm talking to a stuffed animal, blush and focus on more important things. Daddy didn't even wait for me at the house, so why stick around? I've got better things to do.