Torn away from her few friends and family, Jenna Cullen and her father move from Texas to London, UK. While Jenna's father is looking into a job, she tries fitting in at school. High school. Her first day didn't even get off to a good start, having...
The five of us sat at the long cherry wood table, the Lockwood's eating delicately, except their youngest son, Peter, who was pigging out. He was only eleven, but he claimed to be twelve (when he rounds) and assured me he was old enough to date a girl "as pretty as me".
Smiling, Peter suddenly reminded me of myself. The eleven year old had my straight golden hair, with eyes the color of shards of ice...like Zach. His personality was a bit of a mix like us too.
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Wih these characteristics combined...I couldn't help but think of him as mine and Zach's own son.
Hopeful thinking, future thinking, it helped me swallow my food and fight my nervousness of Peter's mother.
Mrs. Lockwood seemed as frightened of me as I was of her. I can't explain it... she just felt so familiar. Like déjà vu...
"How is your father?" Mrs. Lockwood suddenly asked.
No: "How are your parents?". Did she know about my mom and dad? And how??...But if she knew about my dad, and seeing that he was currently wanted, she wouldn't have asked such a personal question.
So she knew I didn't have my mom. How? I may never know.
(I need to stop jumping to conclusions.)
"I'm not entirely sure at the moment," was all I replied, looking down. She nodded.
The thin woman held a wine glass and crossed her pale legs. "Harper talks much about you-"
"Don't start with this again!" Harper growled.
"Oh, but it's so cute..."
"Stay out of my business, that's what you should do! I didn't even let my real mother get in my personal life, much less you."
"Room," Mr. Lockwood cooly ordered. "Now." He stood and pointed up the spiral staircase.
"No!" Harper snapped. "You need to talk to your wife about this situation. I do not intend to replace my biological and dead mother with her. The only thing she has had me thankful for is Peter. She may live in the same house as me and sleep with my father, but she will not storm in my life and act as if I'm okay with it."
At this point, Mrs. Lockwood looked stiff, a tear trailing down her pink tinted cheeks, trying to hide her face.
Peter began to cry, and being scared of his older brother yelling at his mother, he dashed up the stairs and to his bedroom.
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"Harper Wayne Lockwood!" I hissed, hopping up from my chair and standing in front of the 6' 2" teen. Crossing my arms, I pointed to Mrs. Lockwood. "Apologize now! She is simply trying to start a conversation-"
"That she knows I hate!"
"-with her stepson. If you had a problem with it, you could have said it in a more civilized way. You're my best friend, and I know you. Talk to her like you would talk to me!"
"Do I have to say I love her, too?" Harper asked sarcastically.
Rolling my eyes (totally blushing), I replied, "Only when you feel like you are ready."
Harper gave in and apologized, three times he had to say it in order to get it right. Mrs. Lockwood forgave him, but she still looked really hurt. I just hoped he wouldn't blow up again like that in her face.
"No one can calm that damn boy," Mr. Lockwood whispered to me as Harper volunteeringly washed the dishes (more like I told him to or else...the maid seemed to like the idea).
"I suppose I'm the only one who can?" I smiled. Mr. Lockwood nodded, returning the joking smile, bidding me a goodbye and taking his wife upstairs to get ready for his busy day tomorrow.
Mr. Lockwood was so different from Mr. Malfoy...both rich with a beautiful wife and two adoring sons...yet they were complete opposites.
"You okay?" I immediately questioned when his parents left the room.
"Fine," Harper sighed. Taking the hint, I tiptoed to massage his shoulders. His shoulders dropped, meaning he was now calm and relaxed (I often had to do this, usually before he snaps a stranger's neck for something stupid).
"Thank you," he frowned, drying the last of the dishes.
I grabbed his hand gently. "Let's go to your room now."
"Just the two of us?"
"Shut up, Harps."
"Doll."
The word sent a chill down my spine, remembering the men back at my house.
*******
"When was the last time you talked to your boyfriend?" Harper half-heartedly asked, closing the door.
I jumped onto Harper's King-sized bed, rolling around in the dark covers. "A week?" I began to panic. "I haven't talked to him in a week!"
"It's okay," Harper sighed. "I talked to him all week. He knows you're here. He's furious at his dad, he keeps trying to persuade him to let you stay over. So is his brother and mother."
It warmed my heart, knowing the Malfoys were fighting their dad or husband for my sake.
Harper saw it, and rolled his eyes. "Even if you could stay at their place, he still wouldn't let you. At least not in the same room."
I sat up quickly and shoved him back, growling, "Shut up, Wayne!"
