Jacky Miller, a hot headed seventeen year old, is determined to make her senior year at her new school a successful one- and she does just that when she befriends the most elite group at West Valley High.
The ultimate power couple, Ali Mills and Joh...
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"Jacky, I need you to actually help me move stuff in," my mom yells up the stairs to our new house. "I don't need you sitting in your room all day."
"We just got here mom, give me a second," I yelled back, rolling my eyes. I'm trying to put my new room together but apparently I can't even do that right.
"Jacky, I'm serious," she yells again, a more stern tone to her voice. When is she not serious?
With a sigh I put the clothes that I was putting away down, and practically drag my feet down the stairs.
"Stop that," my mom snaps. I throw my hands up in surrender, not trying to start another argument.
The two of us walk outside to the car, passing my dad and my sister, who are walking into the house also carrying boxes. My dad drops a picture frame by my feet and swears.
"Jacky, pick that up for me please," he says, trying to balance everything in the box he's holding. I pick it up and take it with me to the car.
"I'll put it in my box, Dad," I say.
"Thanks honey," he sighs, walking through the door.
It should be obvious at this point, but I tend to get along better with my dad. With Mom there's always something I'm doing wrong, or there's something she's mad about and she takes it out on me and my sister Dawn.
You'd think that I would spend more time with my dad, but of course he's the one who's always working, so with my rotten luck I'm stuck with my mom most of the time. And that's just one example of how annoyingly basic my family is.
From the outside, the Millers look like your picture perfect all American family. With lots of money, a married couple, and two teenage girls you'd think that all of us had perfect lives. But if you look closer, every perfect thing has something wrong with it.
Married couple? They hardly talk to each other. Two present parents? I barley see them. Two sisters only a year apart? Dawn doesn't even look at me half the time.
"Get your fighting stuff," my mom wrinkles her nose, gesturing to one of the boxes in the car. I refrain from rolling my eyes and groaning.
"Karate, mom," I correct her. "I've been doing this for seven years, I thought you'd remember by now..."
"Oh, I remember," Mom scoffs, and I follow her back to the house. "All that punching and kicking for no reason at all. It's so un-ladylike, I don't know why you enjoy that kind of thing. Do you know how much blood I see during your tournaments, it's ridiculous! You're lucky you haven't broken some kind of bone yet-"
I sigh and tune my mom's rant out as usual. See what I mean? I could say literally anything and she would find a way to argue or lecture me about it.
