Chapter 3: The Boy I Once Hated: Chapter 2

‘Whatcha doing?’ my sister Daisy singsongs as she walks into my room and jumps on top of my bed, making the whole thing shake beneath me.

I continue to write in my notebook, ignoring her presence as she drops flat on her back beside me. Unfortunately, my big sister has never been the type of girl who takes being ignored lightly. A fact that is all too evident when she starts tugging at my ponytail to grab my attention away from writing and onto her.

‘Do you mind?’ I mumble, annoyed, slapping her hand away from my hair.

‘Not at all,’ she taunts with a sly grin, using the distraction of me fixing my ponytail to snatch my book away from me, to flick through its pages.

Argh!

It’s official.

My sister has no sense of boundaries.

‘I thought I told you to knock?” I exhale, frustrated as she continues to read passage after passage of what I’ve written so far. “You know I don’t like it when people barge into my room whenever they feel like it. This is my personal space, Daisy. Not yours.”

“Relax, Sky. Jesus.” She laughs, amused. “Someone seriously needs to take that stick out of your ass. You’re too easily wound up. I’d offer to do it myself, but this bitch got her nails done this morning. I love you, Sis, but no way will I chip a nail on your account. That stick is so far jammed up there, it’s sure to ruin any manicure.” She continues to giggle.

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious,” I scold with an eye roll. “Now that you’re done with your one-woman comedy act, how about you give me back my notebook and leave?”

‘Nope. Not yet. Do you finally have your sexy-ass Pirate Barbosa getting it on with Lady Jane?” she asks while flipping through the pages of my book.

‘Hate to disappoint you but they haven’t even kissed yet.”

‘For real?” My sister gawks in astonishment, her eyebrows going so far up her forehead they almost touch the roots of her blonde hair. “But he’s held her prisoner on his ship for over a month now. A whole ass month! How have they not kissed?”

“What can I tell you? The opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet.” I shrug, not seeing the problem that my sister obviously does.

“Poor guy. Barbosa must be suffering from a bad case of blue balls. By the time you pull the trigger and get to the sexy times, he won’t even remember how to use his dick.”

‘Can you be any more vulgar?!” I snap.

‘Can you be any more prudish?” she rebukes with a chuckle.

“I’m not a prude. They will have sex. Eventually.”

“But you said that they haven’t even kissed. How the hell are they going to jump each other’s bones if they haven’t even gotten to first base yet?”

‘It will happen. Organically. Naturally. You do know that not everyone jumps into bed with the first guy they meet, right?”

“Is that a jab at me, squirt?” She laughs joyously, not one bit bothered by my remark.

“If the shoe fits,” I taunt, stealing away my journal.

Anyone else would be offended by the insinuation.

But not Daisy.

Not my sister.

Daisy has never cared what people think of her. She’s one of those rare individuals that lives free of all judgment. I would never tell her to her face, but my big sister is kind of my idol.

My aspiration—the type of person I dream to become one day.

So when she starts laughing at my sass, I’m not even surprised. In fact, it warms my insides to witness her ‘fuck it’ attitude up close.

‘I know why you’re having such a hard time getting to the sex scene,” she muses, turning to face me.

‘Okay, I’ll bite. Why?” I reply, turning to look at her with my elbow on the pillow and my hand on my cheek.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she retorts, her blue eyes softening. “It’s because you’re still a virgin. How can you write a sex scene when you haven’t even done the deed yet?”

I don’t remind my sister that I just turned sixteen a few weeks ago and haven’t mustered the courage to let a boy kiss me, much less do the dirty with. Using that as an excuse on my sister would be pointless since I’m pretty sure Daisy had her sexual awakening around the time she was in junior high and has never looked back. She sees sex as simply having a bit of harmless fun, while I’ve built it up so high in my mind that it kind of scares the living shit out of me.

When her spirited expression turns into concern that she’s hurt my feelings, I plant a playful smile on my lips.

‘That’s what the imagination is for.” I flick the center of her forehead to drive the point home. “And besides, I know the mechanics of it, thank you very much.”

“Knowing where a cock fits into a vagina isn’t enough. You’ll never be able to do it justice if you don’t let yourself experience it first. How else will you be able to describe the intensity in your lover’s eyes? The smell in the room? Or how his warm skin slides up against yours, making your heart skip? Or how the sweat drips down your brow as you beg him to give it to you harder. Shouting more, more, more!” she yells, slapping her hand on the mattress in the space between us.

“You’re a freak, you know that, right?” I laugh.

“And you’re my favorite little weirdo.” She giggles, ruffling my dark brown hair. ‘But I guess you still have plenty of time for all of that good stuff. All I ask is that you at least write one good kiss scene. Please don’t make me wait ten fucking chapters to get it.”

“Fine. I’ll have them kiss in the next chapter,” I concede.

“Barbosa’s blue balls thank you. And remember, if you need any help with the sexy times, you know who to come to for advice.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me as she pretends to hump the air.

“God, you’re gross.”

She cackles.

“Speaking of gross,” she starts to say when she’s calmed down, “I think Mom is getting nailed on the daily now. Good and proper by the way she’s always smiling.”

“Oh my God, Daisy! Can you not?! I don’t want to have the picture of our mom doing it in my mind.”

Another cackle.

“Doesn’t make it any less true. She didn’t come home again last night. It’s the fourth time this month.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” I chew on the corner of my bottom lip.

“So, you know what that means?” Daisy smiles mischievously while jumping up on top of my bed again. “Mom has ditched all those fuck boys that never call her back after getting some and she’s got herself a real man. Bow chicka wow wow!” she hollers, spanking the air in front of her as she jumps up and down.

“You’re going to break the bed!” I shout, laughing while trying to pull her back down.

She just laughs away, dropping down beside me.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is my big sister. Always happy. Always a perv, and always the life of the party.

I’m the total opposite.

I’m the serious one.

My nose is either stuck in a book, or on my laptop writing up a storm. To say I’m socially awkward is an understatement. Give me fictional heroes any day of the week compared to the idiots I go to school with. Daisy, however, is the it girl at our school. I think that’s why I’m not bullied even if the kids there think I’m a freak. I’m Daisy Ames’ little sister, after all. If you mess with me, you mess with her. And no one wants to be on my sister’s shit list.

I should be thankful, I guess.

But if I’m completely honest with myself, at times I resent her a little. The things I love about my sister are also the things that make my existence extra hard. If she would only tone it down a notch, no one would think I’m such a letdown all the time in comparison.

“So?” she asks, pulling me out of my shameful thoughts.

“So?” I retort, confused.

“So what do you think about Mom and this new beau of hers?”

“Do people still say beau?”

“I’m trying to use words you will understand. Give me a break, squirt. Just stop acting all Skylaresque for a bit and tell me everything. I know you’re always eavesdropping on us—’

“Hey!” I blurt out defensively.

“I’m not accusing you or saying it’s a bad thing,” she’s quick to add. “I know that’s how you get your creative juices flowing and come up with story ideas. It’s your process and I respect the hell out of your commitment to your craft. All I’m asking is if you know the scoop about this guy or not? Spill it.”

Shit. She has me there.

I have been eavesdropping.

I always do.

At school. At the supermarket. At the coffee house. Even at the bus stop. I can’t help it.

The human spirit and people’s interactions with one another fascinate me.

Since I’m unable to tap into my own experiences—since, let’s face it, I’ve had none worth mentioning—eavesdropping and spying on strangers has become my favorite pastime. Sometimes all it takes is listening in on an innocent phone call to have my imagination working double time. I don’t question the morality aspect of it anymore. The hit of dopamine I get when inspiration hits is far more alluring than worrying about the implications of my less than above water actions.

When I grow quiet for longer than acceptable, Daisy snaps her fingers in my face.

“Sky! Get out of Lalaland and tell me what you know,” she insists, frustrated.

“Fine,” I relent. No use in pretending I’m in the dark when it comes to my mom’s new boyfriend. “His name is Curt, and he lives in Thatcher’s Bay.”

“Okay,” my sister mumbles, taking in that piece of information.

“That means they can’t see each other as much as they would like. He’s also a fisherman, which means he goes out to sea for long periods of time sometimes.”

“What else?”

“I don’t think their relationship is something new. I think they’ve been seeing each other for a while now. And I’m not completely sure about this next thing, but I think he might have a son. I heard Mom saying something about Curt needing to give someone named Noah time to heal and grieve or something. I’m guessing someone close to them must have died a few months back. A woman by the sound of it. Maybe a grandmother.”

“Or maybe his wife,” Daisy interjects, making my eyes snap in alarm at her.

“You think? No, that can’t be. By my count, they’ve been dating for over six months and whoever passed away sounded like it happened pretty recently.”

“Keeping track, huh? I knew I could count on you for dirt,’ she praises, fake punching my chin.

I slap her hand away.

“Whatever. All I know is that it’s getting super serious between them.”

“How come?”

I maul my lip, since what I’m about to confess is far worse than eavesdropping on my mother’s private conversations.

“I might have gone on Mom’s computer last week,” I admit with a cringe.

Instead of the reprimand I expect to hear from my sister, all she does is wait for me to continue.

“And?” she insists, with wide eyes anxious for me to get on with it.

“And she’s been sending resumes to hospices, clinics, and the hospital on the island,” I finally say.

“Shit. For real?”

“Yeah.” My shoulders slump.

“Do you think that means she is thinking of moving us to Thatcher’s Bay to be closer to him?”

“She isn’t applying to jobs on the island just for kicks, Daisy. Yes, I definitely think that’s where her head is at.”

“Ah, man. That’s a bummer.”

“Is that all you have to say? Mom is probably going to uproot us from our childhood home and all you have to say is that it’s a bummer?” I ask incredulously.

She shrugs.

“That’s life. What’s true today, might not be tomorrow. You just have to roll with the punches. So, we’ll move. Big whoop. Think of it like a new adventure. New school. New friends. You can even create a whole new you if you wanted.”

“But I like who I am.” My brow furrows at that remark.

“I know you do. But I think you’d like yourself a whole lot more if others did, too.”

I turn my face away from her, since I don’t want my sister to see how her words cut into me. I always pretend that I’m like Daisy and don’t care what people think about me either, but it’s a big fat lie. In truth, I’m getting pretty sick of everyone treating me like a basket case just because I prefer to spend my precious time with the fictional characters in my head than with flesh and blood people.

Real life has a knack of disappointing you.

Fiction never does.

The air in the room grows tense and I can feel that Daisy wants to say something or maybe even apologize for the callous remark, but thankfully, a rap on my bedroom door prevents her from saying anything else.

“Hey, girls.” My mother smiles that big-ass grin she’s been sporting lately. “Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

“If it’s to apologize for doing the walk of shame when you got home this morning, then no need. We’re good. Although, I do want you to remember how empathetic I’m being right now when it’s my turn to come home at all hours of the morning,” Daisy states, hiking up a mischievous brow.

“Noted.” My mother laughs softly as she takes a seat on the edge of my bed, unable to hide the blush that blooms on her cheeks. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you girls about.”

“Ew, Mom. No,” Daisy starts, scrunching her face like she just sucked on a lemon wedge. “I know you like us to share what’s up with our lives and all, but knowing the details of you getting it on with your new man is where I draw the line. I’m more than happy to tease you about it, but I really don’t need to know how many times you and your new boyfriend have been bumping uglies.”

“Daisy!” My mother lets out an exaggerated exhale. “Can you please act like the well-behaved young lady I raised long enough for us to have a serious conversation? Please?”

Daisy takes her phone out of her back pocket, fiddles with it for a bit, and then turns the screen over to our mother.

“You got five minutes. I’m timing you.”

“Fine,” my mother retorts, grabbing my hand in hers so I can feel included in their banter. “As you girls know by now, I’ve been seeing someone.”

“You mean you’ve been fu—”

“Daisy, please. Five minutes. You promised,” our mom warns, her cheeks turning redder by the minute.

“Please proceed,” Daisy snickers, wrapping her arms around my waist and plopping her chin on my shoulder.

“As I was saying, I’ve been dating Curt for a while now. Six months, to be exact, and, well…things are serious.”

“Seriously dirty, she means,” Daisy whispers in my ear, but thankfully my mother doesn’t hear the hushed innuendo.

“How serious?” I ask, ignoring my sister’s need to add her own commentary to the situation.

“Serious enough that he would like to meet you girls.” My mom smiles widely, while wringing her hands together.

She’s nervous.

Really nervous.

But she’s also extremely happy.

I don’t know which is cause for more concern.

“Is that it? All this for only a meet and greet? I was sure you were going to tell us that he popped the question or something.” Daisy squints her eyes, unimpressed with the anticlimactic conversation.

“Actually, I think he might.” Mom beams, her shy smile growing ever wider.

“Holy shit,” my sister blurts out.

“Daisy!” Mom reprimands my sister on her outburst. “Please try to be on your best behavior tomorrow and refrain from cursing like a sailor. I know it’s a big ask, but please try and behave.”

“Tomorrow?!” I croak, finally adding my two cents to the conversation.

“Yes,” my mother answers, her features going soft. “Is that okay?”

Is that okay?

Do I have a choice in the matter?

But instead of saying what I’m really thinking, I fake a smile for her and nod.

“Good. I’m glad. We’ll have to leave early, though, to catch the ferry. Curt still hasn’t talked to Noah yet about this lunch, but we both feel it would be better if we met for the first time in Thatcher’s Bay instead of here on the mainland.”

“Noah?” I repeat, wanting to know who this mysterious person is.

“Curt’s son. He’s only a few months older than you, Skylar. I’m positive you two will hit it off with a bang and become the best of friends.”

But even as she says those optimistic, hopeful words with a broad grin, it never reaches her eyes.

As I connect the dots, it becomes blatantly obvious to me now that it’s Curt’s son, Noah, who they have spent endless hours talking about over the phone.

He’s not even a part of my life yet, and already my mother is more concerned how he’ll react to her relationship with his father than she is about how I feel about it. It stings, how even to my own mother, I’m always an afterthought. That I’m expected to smile and accept whatever hurdle she throws at me like the good girl she perceives me to be. I guess it all comes down to the fact that, unlike Daisy, I never cause any waves regarding anything. Not that at times I haven’t wanted to tear the whole roof off. It’s just easier to suck it up and pretend nothing affects me. I know it’s definitely easier on my mother.

“How do you girls feel about all this?” she asks, trying to gauge where we’re at, but inwardly praying that we won’t object.

Again, I stretch out my smile and grab her hand in mine.

“We’re fine with it. Aren’t we, Daisy?”

My sister takes longer to reply, because she knows it will drive our mother up the wall. It wouldn’t be Daisy if she didn’t make things more difficult than they need to be.

“Daisy?”

It’s only when her phone starts blowing up that Daisy finally reacts, jumping out of the bed with her phone already to her ear.

“Daisy! Aren’t you going to say something?” my mom calls out before my sister is able to leave the room.

“Hold on,” Daisy says to whoever is on the other line. “Yeah, Mom. We’re good. Set up the lunch or whatever. Can’t wait to meet the new guy,” she says with a wave before she struts out of the room.

My mother’s shoulders slump in defeat.

“That girl never takes anything seriously, does she?”

“It’s just Daisy being Daisy, Mom. But she’s happy for you, even if she didn’t say it,” I try to console.

“Do you really think so?” she asks, insecurity hugging her every word.

“I do.” I smile.

“What about you?”

My front teeth immediately go to chew on my lip, but I stop myself before she sees the nervous tic.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“How did I ever get so lucky at having such a sweet daughter like you?” my mother coos, cupping my cheeks in her hands and placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

I just smile, because telling her the truth would break her heart.

I’m not sweet.

Sometimes, I don’t think I’m even nice.

But I work damn hard at pretending that I am.

Fake it until you make it, I guess.

If my mother knew how angry I was all the time, it would scare her. And thanks to me, she’s had a rough life as it is. She doesn’t need me to pile my baggage to her already heavy plate of misfortunes. So I smile and I nod, hoping she doesn’t see how broken and flawed I truly am on the inside.

It’s a twenty-four-seven job.

One that will become more difficult to pull off if we move to Thatcher’s Bay.

As the saying goes, you can fool some people some of the time, but you can’t fool them all, all of the time.

Maybe it won’t be that bad.

Maybe this Noah guy will put up enough of a fight that will make my mom reconsider moving us altogether.

A girl can only hope.