Photograph

Chapter 1

"You won't be late," she keeps repeating, and I know it's not to me she is trying to convince. 

Just as I look down at my phone to check the message I have just received, I feel my body jolt at the movement of the car. I look up and see the car's red lights in front of us. Instinctively, my hand reaches out for Thalia, whose hand meets mine. Our car stops just before making contact with the one infront of us. 

"Oh my gosh," Thalia exclaims, turning to me. "I am so sorry. Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" I ask. She responds by nodding her head and continuing down the road. "See, I told you you were a great driver."

She laughs a bit. "I am so sorry."

"It's okay, Thalia. We're fine," I assure her. 

"I mean for all this," she motions. "I just wanted to have the new phone to take pictures today."

"I know," I tell her. "Photos hold special memories for us. They don't change, don't leave us even the people do."

"You're seventeen, you shouldn't be allowed to come up with things like that," Thalia says. "We literally have twenty minutes to make it."

"Well they won't start the wedding without the bridesmaids," I point out. 

"Some bridesmaids we are, we aren't even dressed," she adds. "As soon as we get there we are rushing upstairs. Don't say hi to anyone until you are dressed." 

Thalia speeds through the curvy roads, hitting sixty miles per hour on a forty miles per hour road. The black gate to the white palace, my family calls a simple home, appears in the distance. The shiny, new cars are fill the entire driveway up the house. Thalia parks the car, removes the key from the ignition, and we race up the flight of stairs.

"I don't care where the hell the two of you have been," Erika, the wedding planner, exclaims. "Just get into the dresses immediately."

Twenty minutes later, Thalia, three other bridesmaids, and I are waiting downstairs. Gabriella decends the enormous staircase, looking outstanding and breathtaking. Before the controlling Erika orders us to pair up with our partners, I get the opportunity to hug Gabriella without ruining her wonderful do. Denver gives me a loose hug when I walk to him. 

"How crazy is this?" I tell him. 

"What, you in heels or Gabriella getting married?" I slap him jokingly, "Both are equally as shocking, you know."

I roll my eyes at him. He takes my hand and begins to lead me to our spot in line. We begin to walk out to the backyard. I can see the top of the guests' heads in the distance. The music starts and we begin our decend down the isle. I can identify quite a lot of the guests, but there are obvioulsy new faces. Denver's grip on me is stead and he gives me a tight squeeze before we part our ways. Everyone stands and Gabriella begins to walk down the isle. My eyes dart to William. The way he looks at Gabriella make me inhale deeply. It is like everyone has disappeared, all the decorations have vanished and that he sees is my beautiful cousin, making her way to him. Everyone is silently as they say their vows to each other. The applause and cheers are loud and filled with joy once they kiss for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Masen. 

The guests makes their way to the reception, which is only a few feet away. The tables, as usual, have appointened seats. I search for my name, hoping I am sitting with my immediate family members. My mother interupts my search by hugging me and saying I look incredible. 

"Your opinion is one hundred percent biased," I tell her and receive a kiss on my forehead. 

"Not at all," she says. "You are beautiful, all my Storm girls are."

"Thalia, where are you sitting?" I ask her. 

"Right here?" she tells me. 

"Mom, I thought we were all sitting together?" I ask, looking around. 

"Gabriella and William wanted to blend families in the seating charts," Erika explains. 

"Clever," I say, "now if you'll excuse me, I am going to find my seat."

I walk arond a few other decorated tables, reading every single name. When I get to table five I see Denver's name and walk around reading the printed names on the cards. I know most of them, except three. 

"Holland Parker, Victor Parker - William's niece and nephew. I know them, good," I say to myself. "Now who the heck is Lucas Hemmings?"

"That would be me," a deep voice says from behind me.