It's Like Monopoly, But Physical.

This story is under severe reconstruction.... lol I wrote this when I was 14, I apologogize.

It's Like Monopoly, But Physical.

Chapter One.

Who's the first person you think of when you hear the word, hate? For me, the name Vance Taylor comes to mind. Well, I guess I like him, but it's one of those things where you hate someone so much that you like them. Am I making sense? Probably not, but what else is new?

You see, Van, lives in the house right across the street from me, our parents have been friends ever since high school. So I guess it's natural that we always get thrown together, since we're the same age. We argue a LOT, but it's fun. We may be okay with being friends, but it sucks sometimes because we have every class together. Even gym, which also sucks because we're both way too competitive.

"Abby Elliott, get your butt down here!" I hear my mom yell from downstairs.

I groan as I get off my bed and stroll downstairs. I wonder what I did now. I don't think I've done anything that bad today. I mean, I threw an egg at Van this morning after he drank the last of the chocolate milk. Which, face it, chocolate and milk is possibly the best combination ever. The thing that really pissed me off was that Van doesn't even like chocolate milk, he likes strawberry milk. Who likes strawberry milk? Strawberries and milk is a gross combination. When you eat a brownie or a chocolate chip cookie, what do you drink with it? Milk! When you eat a strawberry, what you do drink with it? Not milk! At least, the normal people I know, besides Van don't.

I walk into the kitchen to see my mom, with her long blonde hair in a messy bun on of her head, holding a knife over a carrot. "Whoa, mom, I'm sure that I didn't do something that bad. Just put down the knife and lets talk about this," I joke.

"Don't smart mouth me, young lady, you know what you did," she says, cutting viciously into a long carrot.

I shake my head, "no, I really don't."

My mom takes a deep. "I got your report card. Did you know that you have an D in calculus?"

Oh. That. "No," I answer nonchalantly.

"Don't lie to me."

"Mom, don't worry, I'll bring it up," I assure her.

"You better," she says pointing the knife at me. "Or I will be cutting more than carrots," she says sarcastically.

I laugh, "good one mom, I see that my sarcasm is rubbing off on you."

"Yeah, yeah. Now set the table before the Taylor's get over here," she tells me.

"What?" I ask. "Why are they coming over?"

"For dinner," she answers.

"Why?"

"They just are, now set the table."

Ugh! Not only do I have to see Van every day of the week for eight hours, but I have to see him after school too. Dinner with the Taylor's, this should be fun.

When the Taylor's get here, I walk downstairs to see that my older brother Darren is here too. I keep forgetting that he's back home for the year. It's so weird having him around again, he's only been in town for like two days. Don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but I guess I just got used to him being away at college. He was gone in New York at NYU for three years, before he realized that college wasn't for him, so my parents agreed to let him take a year off and spend some time at home. The school is holding his spot because my dad has connections with the dean of admissions. If I were in college and wanted to take some time off, I highly doubt my parents would let me take a year off. But Darren's their little pride and joy.