Z: The Abilities Series

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As soon as the papers are signed, Mr. and Mrs. Torrez become Dad and Mom. It feels so good to call them that. For the first week, Toenail and I call out to them constantly for no reason other than to hear ourselves say Mom and Dad. Not to mention the reward of seeing our parents' faces light up every time they heard it. Things are so perfect. Even when we get in arguments, we are happy. Mom always feels guilty when she has to discipline us for a bad grade or getting in trouble at school because someone was too mouthy with a teacher (I'll give you one guess who). It never fails, ten minutes after getting sent to our room, she's knocking on the door, cookies in hand, telling us how sorry she is that she has to be so strict, just as long as we learn our lesson. I love her so much, I can never stay mad for long.

Kids at school always ask us if we hate living on a farm and if it is hard. Truth be told, it is hard. Every weekend is spent doing chores, but Dad always makes it fun. He blasts his mariachi music, and Toenail and I dance around as we do our chores. Dad always knows how to make us laugh and especially loves to sneak up on us while we are taking a water break and do his killer impression of a mariachi laugh. I spit out my water every time. Dad and I also have the special bond of martial arts. Toenail is more into wrestling. I always tease him, saying he just wants to grope the cute boys. I am a super-fast learner and after four years, I earn my black belt. Dad always glows with pride after my competitions. I never lose.

Every year we have a celebratory dinner to commemorate the day they adopted us. This year was our fifth. Usually it is just the four of us having a big dinner and cake and playing a board game. This year is a bit different.

"Mija, mijo, come down here. There is someone I want you to meet," Mom hollers up the stairs to us. We look at each other confused. T had been helping me with my math before dinner.

"Who the hell would be here for our family-day dinner?"

I shrug my shoulders. "The president," I quip. T rolls his eyes and chucks a pillow at my head. I block it with my ninja reflexes. "Hey, ass munch." I flip the pillow and hurl it back, hitting my mark. Before he can recover and retaliate, I bolt down the stairs, coming to a dead halt in front of a GQ model.

"Damn," I mutter under my breath. Why is Channing Tatum's twin brother in our entryway? I notice a smirk flitter across the man's chiseled face as he gives me a quick once-over. Toenail's grumbling floats down the stairs as he stomps across the floorboards, apparently still not over my attack. At the bottom of the stairs, T lets out a shriek.

"Oh my God! Why is Allen Myers in our house?"

I glance over my shoulder at T, the handsome stranger still way too close for comfort. Something about him feels wrong. I have an almost supernatural ability to sense a person's character, and although this guy is undoubtedly H-O-T-T hot, he is giving off major creeper vibes.

"Who?"

"Z, are you serious right now? Allen Myers—singer, actor, model, yummiest creature on God's green earth. Do you live under a rock?" he admonishes.

"Suck it, Toenail." I flip my brother the finger. Unfortunately, Mom walks in at that very moment.

"Z Torrez! I will soak that finger in hot sauce and put it in that filthy mouth! I am ashamed. My apologies, Senior Myers, my daughter has no manners."

I have enough sense to look abashed as I apologize.

"That's all right. I think she is cute. I like the feisty ones," he says, giving me a wink. Toenail is practically swooning. All I feel are chills, and not the pleasant kind. He turns his attention back to Mom. "Mrs. Torrez, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Al. You practically raised me."