A/N: I thought I would try something light and something I like to write in my spare time. Hope you guys like it!
Chapter One
Margret aka my evil stepmother was starting to get on my last nerves. “Do this Caitlyn, do that Caitlyn. Run here Caitlyn, run there Caitlyn!” And to make matters worse, she had a voice like Fran Drescher, so you can only imagine the pain I endured each and every day.
Okay so maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit. Margret is not really all that bad. Its not like she locks me up in a dusty old cellar and treats me like scum on her shoe. She’s actually pretty cool most of the time, it’s just her conniving, haughty daughter, Lizzie Hale that I can’t stand.
We haven’t really been stepsisters all that long but from the moment I found out that she was going to be my stepsister, I knew my life was going to be a living hell. From going to middle school with her, I knew that she was a bit stuck up but boy was I in store for so many migraines when she walked into our lives. Everything about her just made me want to bitchslap my father a couple of times for allowing her to stay here. She was so rude, arrogant, and not to mention nosy.
One time I caught her in my room, looking through my things. She claimed she was looking for me, but why would I be hiding under my bed? That’s why it’s almost impossible to keep anything hidden from her.
Margaret can be nosy as well but she is definitely not as bad as Lizzie. If Lizzie wasn’t such an airhead, she would be a great addition in the FBI.
Grabbing the hefty list Margaret left for me and the keys off the coffee table, I look pass my lazy stepsister who was flipping through channels flippantly.
“Don’t forget to bring back my subscription of Cosmogirl,” my stepsister called out.
Ignoring her remark, I walked quickly out of the room, glad to be out of the hellhole called my father’s house. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pretty nice house, in the middle of ten other great houses on this block, but it was the people inside of it that made me want to pull my reddish brown hair out and stomp on it for effect.
I closed my eyes as I got into dad’s red blazer, the car he swore up and down he would give me as a going away present. I knew as well as he did that that wasn’t about to happen. He loved his Blazer probably more than he loved Margaret and me put together.
I only had to endure three more months of the madness called Lizzie and then I would be off to Berkeley. Mom, an unknown country singer, was busy traveling around the country this summer and didn’t want me to come along with her because, as I quote she says, “The life on the road is no place for an eighteen year old girl.”
So obviously, my mother has never heard of Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez. Though I’m glad because I can’t quite stand them anyways.
With a sigh, I opened my eyes back up, cranked up the Blazer, and quickly backed out of the yard. A smile crept up my face as I remembered when I could barely back out without hitting a mailbox and now I was backing out like a pro. My turns were good as well. There was one time when I almost ran the light and hit a car, trying to turn. I’m glad those days of bad driving are behind me.
Even though I hated running errands, it was something to do in this boring place. I didn’t really have any friends, seeing as I live in Sacramento and I was down in San Diego. My best friend, Val almost cried when I told her I had to spend the summer with my dad. Heck, I almost cried. We had planned to do so much this summer.
And then when I get here and find out that he wasn’t even going to be here for most of my summer, you could bet I was livid. No, I was beyond livid. I hadn’t seen him in two years and he just ups and leaves without so much as a word. He left a note on the fridge saying: I will be back in September. Business Trip.
