Beware of Bad Boy, Page 3

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  After practice I’d barely had time to come home and shower when he showed up. Although, since he was supposed to arrive this morning he was actually late. I checked the clock and figured about four hours to be precise.

  “He’s here! He’s here! My new big brother!” My little seven-year-old little brother, Chance, was screaming at the top of his lungs, acting like Mickey Mouse was stopping by. At least someone was happy the delinquent was coming to live with us. Scratch that, Scott was pretty stoked also. My mom seemed okay with it, but I wondered how much of that had to do with wanting to please my stepdad.

  I looked out the front window to see a red vintage Camaro parked at the curb. My stepdad turned off the lawnmower and went around the car to hug his son. He was far away, but dark hair and sunglasses was what I took in at first. I knew from the old photos on Scott’s desk that his son didn’t look much like him. Scott had sandy brown hair and green eyes, but his son got his looks from his mom. She was Greek or Italian or something. They moved to the back of the car now to unload the trunk.

  I’d planned on sitting around in comfy clothes, catching up on my favorite HBO show. That idea didn’t seem as relaxing anymore. Feeling unprepared to deal with the new situation, I passed by Chance on my way up the stairs. I pulled a shirt and pants off their hangers and quickly dressed. I put my shoes on in the kitchen, grabbing my keys and wallet off the counter. Just as the door to the garage was closing behind me, I heard the front door opening. Hopping into my Jeep, I pushed the button to open the garage and backed out of the driveway expecting my mom to run out to stop me at any moment.

  She’d be so pissed when she figured out I’d left. I knew she wanted us to welcome Caleb as a family, but he didn’t feel like family. I couldn’t help my animosity and had a grudge against a boy I’d never met, with good reason.

  He started it!

  My parents divorced soon after Chance was born. Sometimes I thought my mom named him Chance because she viewed him as a second chance for their marriage. Well, that didn’t work out so well. They fought before he was born, and they continued to fight after he was born. When he was just months old, my dad moved out and the following year the divorce was final. It still bummed me out, but I was glad my parents weren’t unhappy anymore, especially my dad.

  Four years ago my mom met Scott and they were married a year later. The wedding was beautiful and must’ve cost Scott a fortune. I was maid of honor and my little brother was ring bearer. Caleb was notably absent.

  Even though we lived in a suburb north of Denver, I’d never met my stepbrother who lived with his mom downtown. Why? Because he was a selfish punk.

  While I was happy my mom had a good marriage with Scott, my stepbrother didn’t feel the same way. He refused to come to the wedding. He refused to visit his dad at our house in Broomfield. Scott drove downtown every other Sunday afternoon to visit his son, where I imagined my poor stepdad desperately tried to maintain a relationship with the ungrateful punk. My mom wasn’t perfect, but I was protective enough of her to despise Caleb for rejecting her so thoroughly. How would he feel if Chance and I were the same way with his dad?

  Figuring I was already going to be in trouble for taking off without permission, I may as well make it worth it. Heading towards the freeway, I decided to go visit Cece.