Rule #25: Don't Shake Hands
Rebels don't engage in formalities in any kind.
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Peyton's Reasons on Why Moving to Brooksville, Florida is a Good Idea:
1) I'll finally be away from Xavier and Gwen. And I'll finally be in a place where nobody has seen that picture. (But, I'll also my away from my friends, the only people who actually care about me)
2) Dad said he might get me a pet. (But that's obliviously a ruse to get me to want to move to Florida.)
3) There isn't another reason.
4) Moving to Florida is a horrible idea.
"We're almost there," Dad announces. Thankfully, he turns down the awful music on the radio to talk to us better. "Aren't you two excited?"
I shrug, not looking away from the window. Instead, I channel my thoughts to staring at the sky. The clouds and moon distracts me from all the palm trees and sand. I drum my fingers on the seat, trying not to look as upset as I feel. It hasn't even been a full day yet and I'm already homesick.
"Honestly, Peyton, at least try to look excited," Mom says. But she's too busy applying lipstick in the car mirror to listen to her own words. "You too, Melody."
Melody, my little sister, looks up from her phone. "Hmm?"
"Never mind," Mom puffs her curls with her hands.
Unlike me, Melody didn't forgot to charge her phone. Unlike me, Melody's excited to move halfway across the country. Unlike me, Melody might actually have a chance of making friends over here. God, I can't even look at her.
With a scowl, I slouch lower in my seat.
We enter the rich and prestigious neighborhood mom talked about for the last few days. I know it's rich because it comes with it's very own iron gate, complete with a keypad and everything. Dad punches in the code - 33267 - and the doors swing open.
"Wow, sweetheart," Mom places a hand on dad's arm. "It's wonderful."
I think I have a headache.
I knew from the second mom and dad showed me this house that we'd moving into one of those places - the kind where everybody's more interested in what's going on in their neighbor's house rather than their own. The shallow and boring kind.
The houses seem to fit the model - green grass, paved sidewalks, freshly painted porches, iron gates - so accurately that's almost laughable. I wonder how much money it costs to water the grass, or how many people actually play on the porches and sidewalks.
Then, I shake my head, trying to get rid of those thoughts.
You're not supposed to think like that anymore, I remind myself, resting my head on the window. Who knows, things might be better for you now that you're in place where nobody knows who you are or what you did.
That hardly makes a difference, another part of me points out. Better keep everybody away so they won't find out about the picture.
I sigh and look out the window.
Our house is the second last on in the street, so it also has the second largest driveway.
Melody takes out her earphones, looking around with interest as we near our house. I drum my fingers on the seat impatiently, waiting for dad to park. It's only after the moving truck slides next to us that he actually turns off the engine.
I swing the door open, sliding off my seat and onto the concrete.
With a grateful sigh, I stretch my arms and back. After being cramped in a car for six hours straight, this is pure bliss. Strands of my black hair fall around my face. I tuck them back into my braid.
Melody follows after me and crunches up her nose. "Why is it so hot?"
Now that she mentions it, I notice the heat. It's sticky and warm, with a strange smell of seawater.
Dad cracks his neck. "Nice to be out for so long, isn't it? Are you two coming in?"
"I think I'm just going to hang around until you get the air conditioning on," Melody sighs, taking off her hairband so that her blonde hair comes out in waves.
"Peyton?"
"Five minutes," I say.
He nods and gives me the thumbs up before unlocking to door. Mom and dad climb in and turn on the lights, while Melody examines the flowery bushes in our front yard. I sit down at the front porch, putting my face into my hands.
My headache only seems to get worse.
I watch between my fingers as the movers unload the boxes form the truck. All the boxes are big and bulky, but the men move them with ease, although they're all sweating. I'm wondering if I should offer to help them when Melody hops in front of me.
"Our neighbors are having a party," She tells me, her blue eyes twinkling.
I drop my hands. "So?"
"So, this is the perfect opportunity to go over and introduce ourselves! The party's filled with teenagers, so I'm pretty sure the people there must have some of their own kids, right? Why else would they have a party in their backyard? Come on, there's got to be, at least, a hundred people there?"
Psh.
That's probably the population of this town.
"I don't want to make friends," I say moodily. "Go and introduce yourself. Besides, I'm waiting for them to unpack my bed so I can lie down and complain about how horrible my life is."
Melody groans. "Can't you do that tomorrow? If I go myself, I'll look lonely and desperate."
"You can do that without me too."
"Peyton."
"Melody."
"Meow."
Both of us freeze and look at each other.
For the first time since we arrived, I feel excited. I stand up, "Did you hear that?"
"It sound like a kitten," Her eyes are wide. "Do you think it's lost?"
"Maybe," I walk to the edge of the driveway and look around. Melody follows me, her flip-flops clapping loudly. Besides that and the sound of waves in the distance, I can't hear anything. "Where did it come from?"
"Meow."
I narrow my eyes.
The sound definitely came from the bushes across the street. The lights in the house are off, so it couldn't be theirs. And it's not my imagination since Melody could hear it too. I crouch down and squint in the darkness, trying to find -
a pair of yellow eyes blinks at me.
I suck in a breath, hardly daring to believe it.
"Oh my gosh," Melody whispers. "Is it a cat? Do you think we can keep it? It's probably so cute - Peyton, try and rescue it, you're so good with animals..."
I ignore her and turn my attention to the kitten.
The pair of yellow eyes watch me as I approach the edge of the road. Then, all of a sudden, a black creature jumps out of the bushes. The kitten's face is around the size of my palm. Her - at least, I think it's a her - fur is matted with dirt and her legs are thin and scrawny. My heart goes to out the creature - she must be starving.
Melody, however, gasps in disgust. I guess the kitten's not as adorable as she wants it to be.
I go on my knees and motion for it to come forward. Maybe, if it's not too wild or suspicious of humans yet, I can convince it to come to me so I can give it some food, like fish. It's only a few feet away, but if I approach it might get frightened and scurry away.
"What are you doing?" Melody hisses. "Are you that desperate to have friends? Peyton, it probably has, like, flees or something - are you even listening to me?"
I edge closer, so that I'm nearly on the road, and reach a hand out, motioning the cat to come forwards.
Melody scoffs.
I'm about to respond when, amazingly, the kitten takes a step forwards. It's shaky and nervous, but she doesn't look away from my eyes. I suck in a deep breath and smile encouragingly, motioning with both hands now.
"Here kitty," I whisper. "Come here. I won't hurt you."
Come on, I think desperately, I didn't take a zoology class for nothing.
Then, slowly, the kitten starts wandering towards me. I manage to wait patiently as she stumbles towards our direction, coming onto the sidewalk, then to the road. Every now and then, she gets scared from a faint noise that I can't hear, but continues. I wait with bated breath.
Eventually, the kitten starts to become confident and starts walking towards me. I lean back on my heels, unable to repress my wide grin.
Halfway through, she pauses and hisses at me.
I still.
Melody stiffens besides me. "Now, you've done it - watch, it's probably going to attack us with its claws or something."
"The worst thing it can do is give you a paper cut, dumbass," I mutter quietly, not taking my eyes off her. She's not looking at me anymore, but to the side. And she won't stop hissing. Her black fur is at an edge. She's terrified, but of what?
Then, I hear it.
The faint roar of a car engine.
All of a sudden, a red Audi flies around the corner. And it shows no signs of stopping. Of course, it can't see the cat, since she's black and blends perfectly in the street. The headlights aren't turned on either. Quickly, I turn back to the kitten, who hasn't moved from her spot.
"Move!" I yell. "Move."
But the stupid creature freezes, hissing at the incoming car. Melody's shouting something in the distance, but I ignore her. I motion with both hands now, but the kitten refuses to listen. The car is less than twenty feet away.
Okay, I think, already on my knees. Time for Plan B.
Peyton's Rules on How to Stop a Moving Car
1) Run into the designated spot (preferably in the middle of the road) to catch the driver's attention.
2) Stretch out your arms and wave them around, just in case the supposed the driver is drunk, asleep, stupid or all of the above.
3) Yell, so they know what you want them to do. Phrases such 'help me' or 'stop' are recommended.
4) Wait.
(Results may vary)
Melody screams.
There's a flash of red and a screech of tires. The sensation of heat and smoke slam into me, making me stumble backwards. I cover my face with my hands to protect my eyes from flying dirt. All of sudden, something slides under my foot and I slip.
Unable to react in time, my back crashes into the concrete, my head rattles against the granite and all the wind knocks out of my lungs. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't think, can't see. Then, the oxygen flows in and I cough.
My head feels like a hundred pounds so I lie down on the road, ears ringing, unable to move.
Okay.
So, maybe I've had better ideas.
My mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton. I turn my head, blinking. My eyes can't seem to focus on anything and my heartbeat is out of control. I can hear it pound against my chest. In the distance, I hear the sound of car doors opening.
With a faint groan, I push myself off the ground, resting on my elbows.
I blink.
The world around me is hazy and unfocused.
"Peyton - holy shit, are you alive? Can you see? How many fingers am I holding?" Melody kneels next to me and shoves her hand into my face, holding up two fingers.
I jerk away, scowling. "Two. And I don't have a concussion."
"Are you okay?" This isn't Melody's voice. It takes me a second to pinpoint the source. A boy my age crouches down and tilts my chin up so I'm looking into his face. "Is anything broken or bruised?"
His hair looks soft, I think vaguely. It's dark brown and tossed back, although now that little parts of it are sticking out because of the car. His skin is slightly tan and he's almost taller than me - around six feet. Right now, he's wearing a slightly dirty, button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
His eyes are grey, I notice, looking into them. And big. I can even see my reflection into them. Then, when I realize how close he is, I turn my face away.
Once I don't answer, he touches my forehead.
It aches. I push his hand away and stumble up. "Don't t-touch me. I'm fine."
But, of course, as I take a step back, my vision blurs and I stumble. A pair of hands reaches out to catch me - the boy with the white shirt and grey eyes. Now that my ears have stopped ringing, I manage to blush. After the ground has stopped spinning, I push him off me.
"Thanks," I mutter, so quietly that nobody can hear it.
I take a step back to the examine my surroundings. Breathing starts to come a bit easier now. The cat is nowhere in sight. She must have escaped when I fell.
Figures.
"Hey!" It isn't until a pair of fingers snaps in front of my face that I tear my eyes away from the empty road. "What the hell were you doing jumping in front of a car?"
I look at him dumbly. Why can't I focus? Was he there all along? He's black and about a few inches taller than me. He's taller and more muscular than the other guy, with a big scowl and a chiseled face.
"Don't do that, Sebastian," The other guy, the one who helped me up, scolds. He scans me over for a second, his eyes running over my face. "She might be injured."
"I'm fine," I repeat. My senses are starting to come back and I'm getting annoyed. Half of my hair has come out of its braid. I push it back behind my ear and cross my arms. "And I jumped in front of your damn car because you were about to run over a cat."
They turn towards me.
"Nobody owns a cat in our neighborhood," The one with grey eyes says quietly. His eyes rake over my head. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm going crazy. "And there aren't any strays either."
"You live here?" Melody interjects, for the first time.
Thankfully, their attention shifts to Melody.
"I live in that house right there," Grey eyes points to the one next to ours. He's smiling, as if he just realized something amusing. "Excuse me for not introducing myself. I'm Archer Raine. You two must be our new, next-door neighbors."
"Nice to meet you," Melody smiles brightly. I bet this night is going much better than what she imagined it to be. "I'm Melody. This is my sister, Peyton."
My heart sinks as they shake hands.
Now that I'm putting all the pieces together, it seems so obvious. The huge party, the expensive car, the casual clothes and confident attitude, everything about Archer Raine screams 'rich, popular and handsome', the exact type I've come to despise the last few years.
And he lives right next to me.
Shit.
Melody seems to have made a good impression on the other man - I think his name is Sebastian - so they shake hands as well. But, then, he refuses to shake with me, which I'm perfectly fine with. Archer Raine, however, offers me his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Peyton Monroe."
I look at him for a second. He does have the attitude - the confident demeanor when he sticks out his hand, the amused gleam in his eyes, the perfected smirk on his face. Every fiber of my body urges me to tell him to go screw himself.
But I spot mom watching from the front door. She'd probably kill me if she saw me refuse his stupid handshake, so I grab his hand - admittedly, a little harder than I should - and shake it.
I drop it within a second.
"You know, we're having a party at our house," Archer tells us. His eyes follow amusedly as I wipe my hand on my jeans. "You guys can come and meet everybody if you want to."
Now, this is where I draw the line.
"Actually, I'm s bit tired. It's been a long day," I say loudly, ignoring Melody's annoyed sigh. "I think I'll just go home and eat dinner - or maybe sleep."
Without waiting for anybody respond, I turn around, stumble a bit (I guess the dizziness hasn't worn off yet) and march towards the house, right into mom. She stands up once I approach the porch, with her usual what-have-you-done scowl.
"Who was your new friend?" She ask innocently, following me into the kitchen.
"He isn't my friend, mom, just our neighbor," I shrug. "Nobody important."
Besides any furniture, the house is devoid of any personality, something which mom is bound to change soon. In fact, as I approach the fridge to find something for my throbbing head, I spot a picture of us three years ago.
I scan the photo. It's a picture with James (my older brother, who's in his third year of college), Melody, a couple of our annoying cousins and me at Disneyland a couple of years ago. I still had two of my teeth missing in the pictures - one of them fell out because James punched me.
Good times.
I swing open the fridge and grab a bag. Mom clears her throat from behind me. I pretend to not have heard her, choosing to fill my bag with ice.
"Okay, Peyton, before you go upstairs, we need to set a few rules if you want us to pay your college tuition."
I place my bag on my head, turning towards my mom. "Like what?"
"First, you have to make an effort at school. No more ditching class or detentions or talking back to teachers or whatever it is you do," She waves her hand to emphasize her point. "Oh, and I want you to join at least one club this year."
I shrug. The ice soothes the pain. "Fine."
"Second of all, you need to try and help around the house. Dad and I agreed we'd help you out with college payments if you'd be good this year, but you still need to get a job."
"Okay." I was planning on getting one anyways.
"Three, try to be more social. I want you to make friends now that you're not outcasted or whatever you say you are. No more dressing up in all black or rolling your eyes whenever somebody says something stupid."
"That might be a little difficult."
"Peyton."
"I'm kidding," I roll my eyes, although I'm really not. "Is there anything else?"
"No, go back to moping your bedroom."
I need no more encouragement. Grabbing one of the boxes from my bedroom, I walk upstairs. We already decided that my bedroom is the second door to the right. It's the smallest, but it has the greatest view.
My room is square and spacious, with white walls and a soft tan carpet. My bed isn't here yet so I set my box down on the floor and open the window. A breeze floats in. For a moment, I get why mom and dad chose this place.
It's somewhat beautiful, the way the dark blue waves reflect the stars or how the gentle waves crash on the golden sand. The light wind and the open yards (seriously, there aren't any fences at all) make this seem like paradise. The party next door probably entices anybody who watches it.
There's loud music, a delicious buffet, a booming bonfire and a huge crowd to surround it. Just looking at it makes me feel sick.
As if to confirm my thoughts, I spot Melody in the crowd. Archer offers her a marshmallow on a stick. With a warm smile, she takes it and sits next to him around the bonfire, waving hi to all her new friends. She has a style of communicating and confidence that I never did.
With a scowl, I close my curtains.
-()-
But, seriously, don't run in front of cars.
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