I could barely believe how much my life had changed just in the first few weeks of summer vacation. Two weeks ago, I was living obliviously, thinking that my birth parents had been dead this whole time, only to find out just the other day that they were alive, and we were being forced to live with them for the summer.

It hardly seemed fair. Since when did they control our lives? Didn’t Jim and Rhonda have our full custody? Couldn’t they have talked to us first and, if we had said no, told our birth parents the same? Who were they to just come into our lives like this, demanding to be a part of our lives?

And yeah; I understand it was part of some stupid papers they signed during the adoption process, but it still didn’t seem fair. Jim and Rhonda were relatively wealthy; couldn’t they have gone to the law and done something about it? like try and reverse the papers? Did Jim not study law for two and a half years for reasons like this?

Either way, it didn’t really matter in the end; they’ve made it quite clear that there was no other alternative. Whether we liked it or not, we were being forced to spend the summer in California.

For someone who lived in western Washington for pretty much their whole life, going to states, whose average temperature often ranged in the mid-eighties, like Cali, was like stepping into the fires of hell (okay; so maybe I’m exaggerating, but you get the point).

Sadly, this was a reality I had to face, and it seemed like I was the only one truly being affected by it. Not two hours after receiving the news, Gus just treated it like he did with any new piece of information – he acted like it didn’t bother him, and just went straight to getting ready so he wouldn’t have to be burdened with the task later.

You see, just because Gus and I were twins didn’t mean we were anything alike. By some chance, he had turned out to be the kind of boy that every parent would be proud to call their son – polite, tidy, and not too rebellious – or even, dare I say, not rebellious at all. He was a good boy who almost never got into any trouble, even though he seemed to hang out with people who would – he was almost like a voice of reason for his group of friends, and trust me; they certainly needed it.

Now, I’m not saying I’m not a good girl necessarily, but I wasn’t exactly what people would refer to as “tidy” or “polite”. I tried; I really did. But people often just got on my nerves, and I often have a habit of not holding my tongue when I should. That and I seemed to lean towards more of an alternative, almost sort of messy style. I preferred to wear Converse and band shirts over the nice clothing Rhonda tried to get me to wear, which seemed to be a sort of “people-repellent.” Added to the fact that I bury myself in my work – my art – I really have no social life outside of my family, which could also contribute to my poor social skill.

But it didn’t really seem to matter that Gus and I were polar opposites; that didn’t change the fact that we were best friends, although sometimes I felt more like a charity case – like he only put up with me when he had his friends over because I didn’t have any friends of my own. In the end though, it didn’t matter; I was happy for what I had.

“Your walls look so empty,” Gus comments. I jump violently from my spot on the bed, not having heard him come in. He glances around my room, studying the walls carefully as if it was all new to him, and to be quite honest, it probably was. Hell, it was still pretty foreign to me.

The gray walls that were usually covered in various art projects – whether it be collages of magazine clippings of various bands, or just paintings or photography of mine, it was almost like there was no wall beneath them. But for some reason, I had decided to strip it all down, as if this would no longer be my room after we leave. Most of the décor had been stuffed in the back of my closet carefully. However I had only chosen to keep one picture: a photo of M. Shadows – my favorite singer of all time. I had taken the picture myself, taking it at just the right moments, when the purple and blue lights had hit, not only him, but the smoke dancing at his feet, creating an image that looked like it came straight out of RockSound. It was the first photo I had ever taken, when I was nine – when Jim snuck me out to see Avenged Sevenfold live. It was my first concert, and quite possibly the greatest night of my entire life – although I’m lucky to have survived it. If it weren’t for that night, or really for that photo, I would never have considered taking up photography.

“What did you do with everything?” Gus asks me. I nod towards the closet, which was now emptied of all its original contents. Two piles sat in front of it; one to leave behind, and the other to take with me to California. He frowns. “Are you not taking any of your art with you?”

“I’m taking one photo,” I tell him.

“Which one?”

“My first one,” I reply and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“The one of that singer you really like?” I pout slightly and he shakes his head again. “Man, I will never understand your fascination with him.” He pats me on the head; I kick him in the leg – lightly, of course.

“Is there any real reason why you came up here?” I ask him, trying to mask the annoyance in my voice. He rolls his eyes.

“I came to tell you that the guys are coming over tonight,” he tells me, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “Kind of like a goodbye thing.”

“Oh…”

“There will be video games.” I don’t say anything, and he sighs. “There will be pizza.” I immediately perk up.

“Will there be non-fizzy drinks?” He rolls his eyes. “What? You know I hate soda.”

“You’re not fucking human…”

“Will there be non-fizzy drinks or not?”

“Yes, there will be ‘non-fizzy drinks’.”

“Then I may or may not join you guys later,” I sniff playfully and he ruffles my hair.

“Whatever, kid.” And with that, he leaves.

To be completely honest, I probably would’ve joined Gus and his friends either way, even if there wasn’t pizza. One person I was going to miss a lot – even though he didn’t know it – was Gus’ friend, Dillon. Ever since the third grade, when he first came over, I had liked him, even when he tried to flush my Barbie’s heads down the toilet. Though he had made it clear, over the last few years especially, that he would always sort of see me as a little sister, that didn’t mean I couldn’t… like him. Where was the harm in that? When it comes to people like Dillon, I’m glad I was socially awkward, so I wouldn’t say anything that was too embarrassing.

Although, as of late, he has been making that quite difficult for me.

Dillon wasn’t the kind of guy that just didn’t have a girlfriend, and by girlfriend, I mean Annie Richards, who he’s been dating since the sixth grade. He always brought her everywhere, until two months ago, when they broke up. Ever since then, he comes around, Annie-free. And when Dillon is Annie-free, that means he makes an effort to include me in whatever the group is doing – almost as much effort as Gus.

And sometimes, there were times when everyone else was doing something, and we would just… talk. Like we had known each other our whole lives (which we technically had, but whatever). And sometimes, we’d have deep conversations, usually involving Gus’ and my adoptive parents. Often, questions such as “what would you do if…?” would arise, and we would have fun discussing various scenarios. Over the last two months, I felt more and more like I could confide in him like I did with Gus.

I just hope I’m not making a mistake.

Notes

A/N: Kind of a lame chapter, I know, but I've really been putting off updating this. I haven't written much of it yet, since I'm really into "Lost, Broken and Shattered" right now, but wow I certainly did not expect to receive such good feedback on this. Thank you so much!

Updates on this story are going to continue to be kind of slow, at least until I'm done writing LBaS, so bear with me.

Thanks again (=

~WOLFY~