My biological parents want the misfit I am back... And i want to be back?

(2) My biological parents want the misfit I am back... and i want to be back?

****Okay so I got some feed back from the person I really trust when it comes to literature: My Brother. He advised me to mention more on the setting and to focus on the charecters a little less because it detracts from the story line. I'm gonnza try that with this chapter and we'' see how it goes :) ty for reading ;D****

Ohhh!! I also wanna say thank you too all the people wo took the time to read the first chapter :) and also for the 2 votes. It may not seem like a lot but I'm ecstatic!

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I moved around uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other. I was apprehensive about meeting my 'parents' and the fact that they were late ppicking me up was not helping the matter.

"Christ" I muttered and looked around the bustling airport once again. I was surrounded by thousands of people many of which were not even from the United States. JFK airports waiting area had many small cafes and book shops as well as the usual gift shops so if you forgot to pick something up for a relative you could.

For all the thought that must have been put into creating these business for people that were scatter-brained, I couldn't help but feel it was a little heartless as well. The stores were just another way of lining the pockets of business owners. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket. It was Calvin and Klein and probably the best thing I owned. It did look nice on me, I'll admit, however in this drab interior with the ugly gray flooring that I wasn't even sure was stone and the nasty looking tables that stood outside the little shops.

Looking up again I saw a man, on the tall side with salt and pepper hair who was looking around anxiously. His eyes passed over me, froze than he looked me over again. His mouth seemed to hang open slightly. He quickened his pace to a degree that didn't even qualify as walking anymore, I'm sure.

"You wouldn't happen to be Robin would you?" The middle aged man had a pleasant voice, slightly accented. It took me a second to place it than I thought to my self quietly Spanish? I would have to hear him talk again.

I realized he was still waiting for my answer. "ummm, Yes I am. Who are you?"

"I am your fathers best friend. He sent me here to pick you up because there was a slight emergency." I felt slightly better, no matter how perverse that may sound.I was glad I hadn't been forgotton.

I pulled my ipod out and asked "Well best friend, do you have a name? I feel slightly strange referring to you as mister."

"Jules."

Okay then. "Well thank you Jules." I smiled at him apprecitaivly as he bagan walking toward the exit. He was carrying my suitcase I noted. I hadn't see him pick it up. I lugged my heavy carry on bag up onto my shoulder and followed him to his car.

Apperntly he drove a Mercedes. You've gotta be kidding me. It looked good too. He poped open the trunk and placed my suitcase there then motioned I should put my bag there as well "you'll be more comfortable" was all he said.

"What are my parents like?" I decided to use Jules to my best advantage.

"you may not like the way I put it. I am from Puerto Rico and Mexico even so I'm not sure exactly what seems out of place in a conversation. Your mother and father are rich. Your father is a chemist. He makes new medications. Your mother a computer engineer. Both make a salary enough to but a large home and support themselves and family well. You have a lot of family. Your father is from Puerto Rico as well. It is one of the reasons we met. Tambien, he is boriqua. He is Spanish. The Spanish are the probably the first ethnicity that comes to mind when you think large family."

I interjected at this point "I'm not Spanish though." Ah, It felt nicemto trump someone... Might be home sooner then I'd thought.

"I was getting to that. Mira. Your mother is Irish. Born and raised, you are pale as a gringa!" He laughed at me whiteness.

"What's a gringa?"

"A white girl. Ahhh Caucaion?"

"ahh I see. Well where do they live exactly? New York?" I was slightly offened at the remark. I'd been trying to tan all my life, it had just never worked out. I freckled instead.

"New Jersey!" Jules said it proudly. I was in shock. Not the jersey like the one that was in that show 'Jersey Shores'??! It looked like a place for bimbo blondes! I was, thankfully not.

I reached up and tied my hair up using an elastic. Personally, I thought my hair was my best feature. It's brown and gets red highlights when im in the sun and during the winter I get light brown highlights that frame my face (***don't ask me why, that's really what my hairs like**). It 's also straight when I want it to be and when I dry it the right way curlier than alot of naturel curly haired people.

"I like you so far Jules." I said this quietly. It was the truth. "Do you think my parents will like me?" the seond the question left my mouth ifelt terrible. I shouldn't feel nervous about meeting them! I have to make them hate me! I anxiously rubbed my hands up and down on the black, italion leather and waited for his reply, nevous, despite the conversation I'd just had with myself.

"I cannot say for certain that they will love you. But like you? You are very charismatic. I think they will like you." He squinted at the glare of the sun as he said this than he relaxed and smiled at me saying "You need to watch put more for the twins liking you than anyone else. Trust me chick. You must be careful around them."

"Who are the twins?" I asked quietly.

"Too late!" Jules said laughing. "We're here!"

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Again tell me what you think. I need some constructive criticism please!