Remember That Summer

Remember the Start

**Warning contains offensive language**

Chapter One: Remember The Start

I hate it here. I thought as my mother ripped a brush through my tangled mess of hair. "Hold still Katerina!" She scolded as I winced, "You are making it worse!"

"Why do I have to go again?" I asked rudely, "Last I checked this wasn't my goddamned company-Ow! Mom cool it! I'm gonna be bald before you're finished."

"Do not use that tone with me Katerina and when I retire it will be!" She scolded yet again. She looked like she ate a sour lemon. "That is enough now go put on your dress." I glowered at her. She and I had a completely different taste in fashion. I like jeans, hoodies, and converse. My dressy clothes were jeans and a button down, or my favourite dress. It's blue and flowey and goes to my knees. It's the only dress I own. She however picked me out a floor length mermaid style dress that was yellow. Yes, yellow. Fucking canary yellow.

It's disgusting. I thought sliding it on. I came to the realisation it was too small. It wouldn't zip up. My mother stood in the doorway her hands over her mouth.

"You look beautiful!" She squealed. Is she trying to relate with me?

"It's too tight." I said in a deadpan tone.

"Well you are wearing it. I spent a lot of money on that dress and I will not have you waste it." She came over and zipped it up with a little wrestling. And by a lot of money she means her rich new husband, Mark's, money. His wife died a few years back and left her fashion company to Mark.

"It's stupid." I said "I hate it."

"Why are you so ungrateful! Grace never complains like you!" And there it is. The comparison. Every time mom and I argue she brings up the bane of my existence. My oh so perfect sister Grace. 'Grace does not argue with me!' 'Grace does as she is told without fail!' 'Grace is perfect!' 'Oh look Grace can play the goddamn violin!' 'Why can't you play the violin Katerinat? All you can play is that god awful guitar!' 'Katerina why aren't you like Grace!' Grace, Grace ,Grace, GRACE! That's all I ever hear about is goddamn Grace fucking Heron! And it's not just mother. It's the whole fucking world! Grace Heron Grace Heron! My god awful step sister. She's Mark's spoiled daughter.

"Mom. I. Am. Not. Goddamn. Grace." I seethed.

"Do not swear! I am sick and tired of your mouth young lady! I do not know where you picked it up I know I do not like it!" I know where I picked it up. You and Dads constant arguing.

"Sorry mother." That you're a goddamn bitch.

"Excuse me?" Oh shit did I say that out loud? "Yes you did." Shit. "That is it! You, young lady, are grounded! For the summer! That means no friends, cellphone, television, Internet, and you are most defiantly not going to your fathers. I am positive that is where this foul mouth language is coming from." I'm sure my face is beet red now.

"You can't keep me from seeing my dad!" I screamed in her face. "I have rights!"

"Not yet you don't! You are still a minor and as long as you live under my roof you will follow my rules!" She yelled back.

I was furious now.

"One month! I only have to live in this hell hole for one month!" I screamed. Mom slapped me.

"Enough! Put your shoes on we are leaving!" Mom, no she's not my mother, Joan demanded. Her face was so red it was almost purple and a vain was pounding on her forehead. Her blonde hair that was pulled into a tight bun was falling out slightly and her brown eyes were furious. I glared at her but put on my shoes. We walked out the front door and got in the car. Grace was sitting in the passenger seat with a smug look on her face. Why? I don't know. Maybe she thought I'd be mad I didn't get passenger seat. Maybe it was because she knew Joan and I just got into an argument. Either way she's a bitch.