The Rebel - Sequel to Anything but Human

Chapter One - Brooke

Dear Diary,

I've got yet another recital. I hate piano and no one knows it! They all seem to think I'm some crazy piano-playing geek that just thinks about her stupid recitals. Well, I'm not! I just don't want to tell anyone - especially NOT Mom! She'd kill me! My step sister & current nemesis Jenna is so lucky. They don't know my past. Only you do, Dear Diary. I'm turning 13 tomorrow. 13! Yet I don't care one bit. Yes, I'm older than Jenna, but I've got less COMMON sense than she does! Or so I feel. She gets good grades. She has a dog now. She has a good REAL father. She has good friends. She knows what she believes. Me? Bad grades, NO dog, a real father who'd go out drinking on Saturday nights, high popularity but not-so-good friends and zero common sense! Plus, I don't know what I believe. I am so messed up and I hate myself for it! Perhaps I look down at Jenna - but barely! Not to forget, she and her sister are tall! She always says she isn't short, always says she isn't pretty, but it's MODESTY! I guess I am kind of pretty, but not as pretty as Jenna.

-Brooke

Hi, I'm Brooke Steller! I'm almost 13 years old, and not as happy as I sound.

I have a really nice step sister Jenna. But I don't know how to deal with her! See, she's nice, but she's too good to be true.I can't help but be mean somehow. I just can't handle. David, my father, never said a kind word before he disappeared to who-knows-where. Never. I didn't mind at the time, because my cat Gorgeous, dog Lizzie and horse Miami helped me go through it. Now I don't have Gorgeous, Lizzie or Miami. And Mom makes me play piano and everyone thinks I love the piano!

I only trust Lexie, my BFF. I've known her for ages! How could I not trust her?

Speaking of which, a text just came in: Hey, Brooke! How bout dinner  at Venny's? They're having a special 2night! -Lex

I replied - Fast: Sorry, Lex. Mom isn't letting me outta her dang site lately. + piano recital. Sry, mayb another time! :(

Yeah, it's true.  

My door opens and in comes Jenna. 

"Brooke, could I...?"

"Get out of my room!" I shriek, cutting her off. "Keep Scumbag out, too!"

I notice that her dog, Cinnamon is following. Cinnamon is a sweet dog. But she's a dog that looks like Liz!

My eyes send off an apology directed to Cinna (as Jenn calls her) and I hope that the dog gets the message I'm trying to send off.

"OK, OK," Jenn says, backing out of the room, her eyes whizzing to and fro as if looking for a secret escape.

I look at the plushie on my bed, a dog that looks like Liz. Sometimes, I talk to it, as if talking to Liz. No one knows. No one, even my mom, is in on this secret. And that's the way it should stay.

Later the next day, I'm busy getting what I call my "Emergen-C Suitcase" ready. I did it - escaped - once. It worked for  a while. Sometimes, my mom says she's just about ready to put me in foster care. Cruel to say to your own daughter, but I wouldn't mind going into foster care. Really. I'd only miss Lexie!

I'm getting it ready when Mom yells from the kitchen, "Brooke! Get your f***ing *** over here!"

I cringe. I'm ready for serious backtalk. 

"Who broke this?" she shouts at me, showing me a broken pot. "You always break everything! Always!"

She broke it. She must have gotten too much to drink again.

"Maybe that's because I'm clumsy!"

"Shut up. Go to your room. Give me your phone. Grounded for two weeks!"

"Mo-o-om!" I moan, and give her my phone. Once back in my room, I burst into tears. It feels like all inside me is closing in, but not on me. Inside me. It's still a really bad feeling.

Mom is yelling at me but I'm not listening. I slammed my door shut. I hate that lady. Yes, it was just a small thing. But small things are huge when she's drunk. Which is why I'm glad she married Mr. Milford. I'm not alone in this. Then I tune into what she's saying, just in time:

"You can run away for all I care!"

You can run away for all I care. For all I care. For all I care.

Well, Ms. For all I Care, Sure! Have it your way! A fine idea. I'm sick of Drunk Mom, Sweet Mom, Mean Mom and Angry Mom. After all, I can run away for all she cares!

I get my bag and leave the big house.

I'm bawling. Not so good. But I'm also ready to leave.