Who cares? (A Reese Wilkerson FanFiction)

Chapter 1 Pilot

A/N: Before you begin reading, I just want to point out that I have not gotten to spell checking this story yet, but I'll continuously edit it in the future. Grammar is just nonexistent in this! Thank you and I hope you enjoy chapter one.

Why is my life so horrible? I mean it's not horrible! I'm just overdramatizing my whole existence, but at the same time, I felt like Jesus was stomping on me with his big Birkenstock sandals. My life had always been this hectic crazy ride and I was just holding on for dear life in the passenger's seat.

I would say, "it all started when BLAH BLAH BLAH!" but I wasn't even alive to know when it started exactly. I was just alive one day and realized that this was my reality.

I grew up in a loud California neighborhood, which just so happened to be full of thieves, vandals, stoners, alcoholics, morons, crazy parents, and... well every horrible thing you could think of. My parents would never be rich enough to live anywhere different so we just kinda stayed. I wouldn't have it any other way. I couldn't have it any other way even if I want to. I'm broke.

Do you know that moment when you realize you have neighbors? Well, I kinda remember when I discovered mine.

You see, my family is big. In order it goes; my older brother named Jordan, he's fifteen and let's just say being a teenager makes him cranky; myself at twelve; my brother Kyle, who is ten and has this weird need to touch everything, but everything he touches breaks; my other brother Stanley, who just turned eight, will turn his back on you in a second if offered something new and of greater value; and lastly my little sister Teenie, who is five and is mommy's new favorite kid until she pops out another. There was also my sister Shelby, age nineteen, but she was away at college.

Our parents are... well... you know... active. They also for some reason like children even though all they do is scream at us. The screaming is justified however because we are pretty shitty kids, but not as bad as the Wilkerson family. They were the first people my siblings and I befriended.

It was one of those times when your parents would let you as a kid go outside to run around, while they did yard work. Jordan was playing catch with my 5-year-old self. It was the summer before kindergarten and I didn't have any friends, because no one took the time to get to know me. We were preschoolers but that still doesn't justify anything. I was excluded.

Apparently, while Jordan would throw the ball, he would gaze next door to see if the kids would come outside. He would wait for the dreaded cry of the 3 boys by the names of Francis, Reese, and Malcolm, and the screams of their mother Lois.

One day, we were outside doing what we normally did, catching and throwing while our parents worked on the lawn. It was an average afternoon, and then we heard that sound. The sound of the Wilkerson boys being chased inside of their home, but neither Jordan or myself expected them to come barging out of their house and running into our yard.

They hide behind the tall hedges my parents had planted not too long ago for privacy reasons. It's like they didn't even realize my brother and I were standing there.

My brother finally walked up to them while I trekked behind him, hiding. My brother tapped the eldest on the shoulder making him jump and scream, which only made the other two repeat his action.

"What are you doing in our yard?" my brother asked rather annoyed. He didn't hate them. All he did was talk about how much he wanted to meet them. He was just pretending to be "tuff" just to gain "street cred." or whatever that means.

"Hiding from our mom," the littlest spoke before his brothers punched him in the shoulder simultaneously.

"Shut up, Malcolm!" the middle child shouted. Just as he did that, a voice from the house could be heard.