CHAPTER 9: I was a curious and love-deprived 6-year-old

Family. What was really family? Your blood relatives? Or the people who made your life worth living for?

As a child, I had a missing birth giver and a work-induced stressed sperm donor. Three boys who only cared about video games and the pretty redhead next door.

So, you may ask, what did little Summer Jones do?

I did one thing that most adults hate kids for nowadays.

Ask questions. Lots of them.

Ignored by my three horny brothers, I turned to dad – my only hope that time. I kept on asking him who is this woman they call a mother. Why did everyone in my class keep talking about her? Why did they draw her always and write good things about her?

Where was mine then?

And I remember that day as clear as day; the way my father reacted. He sighed and looked down at our paint-stained floor – courtesy of me – and then looked into my eyes, the exact same he had – a beautiful ocean blue, always raging yet seeming calm. He pressed his lips together and rubbed his forehead with his sweaty hands. His cheeks glistened in the light of the warm moonlight that poured through his study room window. And he said something that would probably stay with me for the rest of my life.

You had a mother, darling. She...just left us.

Why, daddy?

Because she didn't feel... family.

I asked my dad a question which was heartbreaking and tedious for him.

Sue me.

I was a curious and love-deprived 6-year-old.

Feeling family was still a foreign feeling for me and yes I do love my brothers, but there was still something incomplete in my life. I still had to figure out that 'something'.

Well, that day was certainly not today since... drumroll... it was a Friday. And what did I do on Fridays?

For starters, I would annoy Maddie to the core, singing and celebrating the coming of the weekend and then I would attend my favorite class – English Literature. That was one class where I had my peace of mind where all I would do is get lost in the literary world and get an in-depth analysis of fictional characters.

Then I would attend the rest of my boring classes – Math (put that in bold since I basically had a grudge against it) and Psychology where I wouldn't get a chance to miss the famous snoring of Mr. Brooks.

Rightly guessed – Ms. Brooks' elder brother.

Ah, they say it right. Kin is always alike. That grumpy duo is not one to mess with.

And then I would end up playing soccer in the park alone, watching the sunset and the busy lives of different people, finally ending the day by binge-watching series till 4 in the morning.

What a busy day, huh?

Unfortunately, things never really went as Summer wished. When do they ever?

They say when you really want something, the entire universe aspires and helps you to reach your supposed goal.

But no.

The universe only conspired against me and its forces always did the opposite of what I wanted. Today's day turned out to be something reflecting that.

I walk to my literature class, the heaviness of the Pride and Prejudice book taunting me for not doing the assignment we were given. Was it my fault that Damon and Stefan were more appealing to me than doing some question I already knew the answer to?

I plop down on my seat – first row, window seat – and scribble down some points I could say if the teacher suddenly picked on me because we all know how disobedient teachers are. I mean, there is a fixed system of picking on students. You only pick the ones whose hands were up, not the ones who had no idea what the day was even.

Someone like me.

She always picked on me, let me tell you. And I'm not saying Ms. Grey had a personal enmity with me. No. No. No. In fact, she was super nice to me. She even brought me donuts sometimes in the morning.

The woman is an absolute goddess I tell you.

But her reason for picking me was simple. To reform me. She believed I was on the wrong path – I honestly have no idea why so don't bother asking – and always teased me by asking the questions I never had a damn answer to.

Like what was the problem in choosing me when my hand was up the right time?

"Class, I hope your assignments are ready to be submitted." Ms. Grey kindly smiles at all of us, specifically throwing a smirk on my side.

Haven't I had enough smirks for the past few hours of my life?

"Summer, can I see yours please?"

"Umm... I didn't do it?" I show her all my teeth in an attempt of seeming innocent. I'm sure she would fall for that.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" She raises an eyebrow and puts one hand on her waist and the other on the table.

I spoke too soon.

"I'm informing you..." I mumble quietly, looking around at the irritated faces who always seemed to be silently complaining of the fact that I always held them back from studying.

Who gets more marks in Literature, bitches?

"I'm tired, Summer. Get that work on my desk by the end of the day." She sighs and narrows her eyes at me playfully.

Told you I was her favorite.

Or not.

***

I kick the ball on my right and it hits the tree and stops there. I continue listening to Eastside blasting through my earbuds and continue practicing my dribbling skills. Surprisingly and out of the blue, Caleb comes to my mind and I visibly grimace at his mention. Why on earth was I thinking of that incompetent mutt?

Thinking the ball to be his head, I kick it hard enough until it goes to the other side. I run and look around for my soccer ball until I spot it on the ground.

Under a leg.

Under Caleb's leg.

Oh dear lord, what sins did I commit for you to sentence me to such grave punishments? I promise I will never steal Draven's shirts again. I will even tell Jason I'm the one who eats his Cheerios every morning. Just make Caleb trip over my ball so that he hits his head hard until he doesn't just remember my existence. Is there any way that-

"You again." He rolls his eyes and moves his foot over my precious soccer ball. I wish that was his head under my foot. I would make sure no one would make head or tail of it once I'm done with him.

"Ah, the gloom of this day. I was just anticipating an annoying jerk-free weekend but I guess God really didn't listen to me." I fold my arms across my chest and take a few steps forward, watching his face get paler with every word I said.

Oh, the effect I had on him.

Absolutely heartwarming.

"You're the one who keeps appearing in front of me, blondie. What do I do if you love my company so much and I don't?" He rotates the ball on his toes and kicks it upwards, the ball reaching his hands in a swift motion.

Damn, that was hot.

I meant totally moronic. Even I could do that. Maybe.

"Don't call me blondie, jerk." I narrow my eyes at him as I again take two steps towards him and he stops spinning the ball in his hand at the mention of jerk.

Ha! Jerk. Found his weak spot.

"And you don't call me a jerk."

"Or what?"

"You'll regret it."

"Oh, I've definitely regretted seeing your face this birth. Wonder what punishment I'm going through."

"Shut the fuck up." He growls irritably, inching closer to my face, the soccer ball being the only thing separating us.

"I'm tired of saying the same for you." I glare at him, hatred visible in both our eyes. He's about to say something until he looks at my face and smirks.

Huh, weird.

He walks ahead, pushing me in the process as we both struggled to keep the soccer ball in between our stomachs since if that fell down, then we would be just centimeters away. He continues smirking as he pushes me further, his strides longer than mine while I was barely able to catch up. I had no idea where I was heading due to an obvious lack of eyes at the back of my head – I hope he didn't plan on throwing me in the river.

Wait...there was no river.

I need to control my imagination lengths.

This weird pushing and smirking continues until my back hits the bark of a tree and I gasp in shock. I look back at him and I'm about to say something but he cuts me off by placing his finger on my lips. The shock waves that hit me from his finger strangely run throughout my body and I'm dumbfounded. Caleb leans in impossibly closer and his warm breaths hit my nose gently, a strange sensation running from my waist where his hand had already reached while the other hand was blocking my right side and leaning on the tree. His eyelashes brush across my cheekbone, leaving tingles behind while his nose nuzzled into my neck and my eyes involuntarily closed.

My hands were holding the tree so tightly behind me that I was afraid I would even uproot it. Were it not for Caleb's strong hold on me, my knees would have already given away a long time back.

What was he trying to do?

His lips brushed my ear-lobe and I swear my abdomen was the base of all the moths and butterflies and what not that surrounded the fire that Caleb was slowly igniting. My chin rested on his shoulder and it's like we were almost hugging.

Keyword: almost.

"Next time do remember my name's Caleb Anderson, blondie." He whispers and suddenly moves away, leaving me in a dazed and completely confused state. The soccer ball bounces down at my feet and I look up at him, still wondering what the hell we just did.

I don't want to get caught displaying PDA with him. Eww.

He turns and starts walking away, his hands relaxingly tucked in his jeans. As if he did not just burn my skin with those very same hands. But you know, Caleb is not Caleb with his final mean words.

"Nice outfit, blondie." He shouts over his shoulder, raising his hands in the process, signaling quotations.

Where is a brick when you need one?

***

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