I know given my past with my dad that I probably should have stayed with my mom, but alas, did I listen to that inner voice in my head?

Hell no. 

I packed up my bag, drove 50 miles to Daddy Dearest's house, and endured another awkward situation called: Step-mom and step-brother vs. Stranger-who-is-actually-not-a-stranger. Said stranger being me. 

As I sit down in Dad's stiff, queen-sized guest bed I can't help but place a hand against my right cheek.

Yup, still burning hot. Oh God, why did I think it was okay for me to come here?

I sit down my bag at the end of the bed, still too stunned from the events that took place just moments ago. My mind replays the scene over and over again as if I'm watching a horror movie stuck on rewind . . .

I slowly drove into the Finch estate owned by my father, Randolph Finch, and his wife, Janet Finch. Lost in pre-panic thought, I made sure to stop myself from gazing at the beautiful building in front of me and instead took notice of an animal lazily protecting the grand fortress.

 Outside, in the short green grass, laid a loyal Sheltie dog with a black collar that displayed the name Champion. The Sheltie, although was laying down, stood around sixteen inches in height. Its long coat was harsh and straight with a dense undercoat. Champion's fur was a mixture of black, blue merle, and sable with white markings. Its long wedge-shaped head rested comfortably on its white paws. The Sheltie, upon my arrival, had perked up its small, three-quarter erect ears. Champion's deep-chested, level-backed torso gave an appearance of a rough-coated Collie in miniature.

Huh, so he likes dogs now. What a family man.

As I parked my navy blue Chevy Impala, I could feel it slowing down to a halt. The worn tires ground against the 3" asphalt and I slightly jerked forward in the driver's seat. The dirty windows rolled up when I pressed the window button until they were fully closed. I turned the key in the ignition to the left, the vehicle's hum of life silenced abruptly. 

This is it. No running away. Be cool, Thea. Be cool. It's only your dad's house. His family's house. 

Oh, God.

I stepped out of the Impala like a mouse timidly emerging from its protective lair. Each step felt like an agonizing year passing, every inhale of air a century before the next one. I slightly jumped when the door had shut a tad too aggressive. With furrowed brows, I looked back at the dented door, cursing it for causing my anxious heartbeat to spike like a kid who downed an entire case of Red Bull.

Be cool, Thea. Be cool. 

I reluctantly forced myself to look forward. 

Big mistake. 

My eyes feasted upon the most intimidating house I've ever laid eyes upon. A Tudor-styled house stood proudly on my father's estate. I gazed at its steeply pitched gable roof and playful elaborate masonry chimneys. A portion of the house jutted out and was topped with a cross-gabled roof, also with a steep pitch. Brick, stone, and stucco wall cladding played a significant role in the Tudor-styled home. Its embellished board and batten doorways with strap hinges, groupings of dormer windows, and decorative half-timbering displayed a grand finish to the magnificent home. The entire house conveyed a sense of permanence.

Holy shit. When did the cheating bastard get so loaded?

Dumbfounded, I stood next to my Impala, a hand laid on the vehicle's frame for support. With a deep inhale, and a forceful exhale, I finally continued my way towards the squatty doorways that contained the source of my anxiety-ridden self.

Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Be cool, Thea. As cool as a cucumber.

"What are you doing here at my home?" 

Startled by the accusing voice, I shouted the first word that came to mind. "Fridge!" I exclaimed in panic, heart racing faster than the speed of light. Wavy hair whipping in my face, I snapped my head in the direction of where the voice came from. Unimpressed eyes, closed-lipped mouth, and crossed arms contrasted my wide-eyed, mouth gaped, and uncrossed arms clutching at my heart. 

"Fridge? If this is a joke, I don't get it." A boy no older than eleven years of age squinted at my face, displeased by my presence.

So much for cool as a cucumber. Way to go Thea Finch! You're officially an embarrassment to every human being in the world!

I stared at the eleven-year-old, an awkward smile coating my features. Adorably light brunette coiffed hair like dry topsoil proudly bounced with each confident step the boy took towards me. Thin lips, which were curled in distaste now, and furrowed rounded brows added to the boy's displeased expression. His skin as tan as a fawn's Summer coat contrasted with my bronze tone. Despite some differences, the boy still slightly resembled me.

And I realized why.

With an impatient sigh, the boy huffed, "Hey, lady, it's rude to stare you know." His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Awkwardly, I relaxed my arms and scratched my head in embarrassment. I continued to awkwardly smile. I replied while uncomfortably laughing, "Haha, sorry about that. I'm Thea. I'm here to see Randolph Finch. Do you know if he's home at the 4moment?" I inwardly chastised myself for being so formal with an eleven-year-old, but something about the piercing obsidian gaze he gave was all too familiar for comfort. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, twiddling my thumbs in the process. My gaze shifted from the boy to the first-story window on the house. There was no mistaking the swing of a curtain that was let go of seconds before I glanced at it.

Well, great. I have an audience now. Why did I think this was a good idea?

The boy shook his head yes and began walking towards the door to his home. The way he had plastered his arms by his sides and bunched his hands into fists reminded me of a soldier. His head was held high like a proud flag, letting the world know that he was impenetrable. To add on to his flare, even his hair had slightly waved in the light breeze. Even though I was behind him, I could feel the tense aura he gave off. Whatever awaited me on the other side of the door, I knew to brace myself.

That conversation was brief. Why so serious?

Before the boy turned the doorknob, he abruptly stopped his haste and glimpsed back at me.

"Thea, I'll be blunt. I don't like you, so please don't stay long."

I opened my mouth in protest but was too late. Before I could utter a reply, the door opened and I was greeted with two faces I hadn't seen for eleven years.

I swallowed my reply to the boy and cleared my throat. I decided to look at the man in front of me first, my gaze glued to his clean-shaven chin. I could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Is he uncomfortable, too?

"Hey, Dad, long time no see," I weakly let out, a lopsided grimace evident on my face. I tried my best to muster up the strength to look him in his stupid muddy eyes, but I knew I would be greeted with an arrogant grin, so I didn't. I did, however, manage to stare at his receding hairline. That helped me smile back at him. I had to hold back a snigger.

"Wow, you've gotten so big! Why don't you come inside and get out of this chilly breeze? It's been too long," my dad boomed out. I was slightly taken aback by his aged, deep voice. His hand reached for my shoulder to direct me into his house. It didn't get to my shoulder, though. Instead, it was someone else who reached out to me.

In my peripheral vision, I could see a dirty blonde middle-aged woman. She wore thick eyeliner and mascara, which caused her coy dark oak eyes to appear larger. Her dainty arched eyebrows lifted up as she got closer to me. Her thin lips tugged upwards in a smile and I could sense what awaited me. Pale freckled arms stretched out and I braced myself.

Oh for Pete's sake, she's gonna give me a hug!

When her arms wrapped around my torso, a ring scraped against my arm, a thin scratch born onto my skin and buried feelings resurfaced along with it.

How much perfume does this woman need?

I breathed in a whiff of air and instantly regretted it. My nose burned with the scent of cherries and I had to stifle the urge to gag on the pretty woman's hair. It was hard to resist the desire to push the woman away as her fake pearl beaded shirt made my skin itch with irritation.

I made the mistake to glance up for help. My dad smiled, pearly whites laughing at my distress. I looked him in his cursed amiable yet shrewd eyes and prayed for a convincing smile. God didn't pick up the call. I only managed a closed-mouthed wince. My dad looked enlivened at my predicament.

I can cross off being an actress from my list of career choices.

"Oh, Theadora, it's been so long!" spoke the woman as she inhaled sharply. Her voice reminded me of chimes, high pitched, and melodic in its own way. Arms squeezed my body like a viper does its prey. She didn't let go of me or back away. 

How long has she been hugging me? A year? That's it, I need to breathe.

"How long has it been? Four years? My, how you've grown! The last time I saw you there was a stuffed animal in your hands. Now you have, well, hmm." I took her pause as a chance to get some very needed air into my lungs.

"Haha, good to see you, Janet. Can I breathe now? You're kinda depriving me of my right to inhale oxygen," I babbled nervously, suddenly hot from embarrassment. My voice sounded forced and breathy, adding on to my point I was trying to make. Janet's viper-like grip around me loosened, but she decided to remain in contact with me by taking ahold of my shoulders. She gave them a hearty squeeze. I could still smell her cheery lip balm. "Sorry about that, honey. You know me, always having to give a good squeeze once in a while," she hummed. Her voice sounded anything but apologetic. It reminded me of a wave of a hand, dismissing an action like swatting away pesky flies. 

Um, I don't know you. It's been eleven years.

"And where's your suitcase, sweety? Aren't you staying?" Her eyes portrayed a feeling of hurt, a frown turning her smile upside down. She gave me an exaggerated head tilt to the right. Her hands gave my shoulders another hearty squeeze.

Is she trying to look like a sad puppy? Is she serious?

"My suitcase is still in my car. I can go get it real quick. I just need to pop the trunk and-" I was brusquely interrupted and received a slight shoulder shake instead of a squeeze. "Oh of course not, dear. Let Tommy get your bags for you. Just open the trunk from your keys and he'll take care of the rest. Won't you, Tommy?"

I forgot the boy, whose name was Tommy, was behind me and glanced at him. I was unsure of letting a kid who was so opposed to me being here getting my belongings. His glare at me didn't help shake off my unease. 

After sending a glare in my direction, he looked to his mom, Janet. "Why did she bring a suitcase? She only asked to talk to dad, not move in." He sneered at me when he said "she," then like a lightswitch was flipped looked pleadingly at his mother. He even slightly quivered his lip. Janet was the least bit phased by his poor attempt at puppy eyes, though. Her warm gaze became disapproving as she looked at her son. "Tommy, I said go get Theadora's things. She drove all the way here to be with us. Don't be so rude, she's our guest." Even though her tone was gentle and calm, there was still a sharp warning being sent out with it. I couldn't decide whether I disliked the thought of Tommy getting my suitcase, or enjoyed he was getting a taste of karma for how he was treating me.

Oh, to heck with it. Let me take this one victory.

I made sure to beam grandly and spoke in the sweetest voice, "Will you, Tommy? That would be really nice of you." I contained a snicker and prayed to any diety out there that my smile appeared genuine to Janet. Guilt was bubbling inside me, though, and I inwardly chastised myself for stooping to the level of an eleven-year-old.

I've only been here for fifteen minutes at the maximum and already there's family drama resurfacing. Nice one, Thea. 

Tommy crossed his arms in defiance, which didn't last long thanks to the look Janet was giving him. He sighed in defeat and uncrossed his arms. As he walked towards my vehicle in small, lethargic steps I popped the trunk open for him. His head hung low to the ground. 

Before I could stir more guilt into my mood, Janet put an arm around my shoulders and ushered me into the house. The door had shut gently behind us with one light push, also from Janet. 

Her voice had suddenly become sing-songy when she asked me, "Tea or coffee, dear?"

My dad then walked into the kitchen and walked over to the coffee pot that sat on the marble countertop. He looked at me and smiled. His attention was then directed to his wife, who was now sitting on a metal stool at the long, stainless steel kitchen island.

"Well, shouldn't that answer be obvious? Everyone is obsessed with coffee nowadays. I swear every teenager has to post what they had to drink at Starbucks or Caribou or somewhere like that," Randolph commented, his right eyebrow raised in a questioning manner.

Uncomfortable, I, too, sat at the kitchen island, cringing when the stool screeched against the waterproof vinyl flooring. I smiled apologetically to Janet, but she didn't seem to care at all about the irritating noise.

In fact, all she seemed to care about was me answering my dad's question.

"What will it be, Theadora dear? Tea or coffee? Either or is fine."

I wanted the entire conversation to end and just go into the guest room already, so I anxiously replied, "Sweet tea will be great, thank you. I'm not much of a coffee fan. Well, not by itself at least." I made sure to smile warmly, which I noticed was becoming a habit around this family, at Janet and Dad.

Thinking it was alright for me to put down my guard a little, I sat down in the stool and watched my dad get the pitcher of sweet tea out of his Whirlpool fridge.

"You want some ice, Thea?" He asked nonchalantly as he walked to the cupboard that contained the cups.

I politely replied, "Yes please." I smiled for the billionth time.

Why does it feel so awkward? All this awkward smiling is making my cheeks hurt.

I clenched and unclenched my hands, then twiddle my thumbs as I waited patiently for my glass of sweet tea.

Ugh, I could have gotten it myself. But then again, I don't know where anything is . . . but it feels weird to have someone get me a drink. I'm capable . . . Ahhhh this is so awkward! What do I say?!

Randolph loudly cleared his throat. He decided to press on about his love for coffee. "You know, I expected you to ask for coffee. Tommy loves the stuff, even though he probably shouldn't drink so much of it. I don't really get tea drinkers. It tastes so . . . bland."

I looked down into my lap and bit the inside of my cheek.

Why does it matter so much if I like tea or coffee? They were the ones who offered either one. I didn't think I'd go through this much trouble over a simple drink.

I looked up from my lap and quickly thanked Dad when he slid me my cup of tea. After taking a sip, and almost managing to choke on a small chunk of ice, I coughed and cleared my throat. I nervously chuckled about the odd noises my throat made when I tried to clear is and said, "Um, haha, tea isn't that bland. And it's sweet tea, Dad. There's sugar in it, so it shouldn't taste bland. You probably just drank regular ol' tea. Um, why the curiosity about coffee and tea?"

Randolph walked over to the cupboard and got himself a cup. He then shuffled to the coffee cup, pouring himself a full glass. He blew on the hot coffee and took a tentative sip.

"Why not? I'm just getting to know my little girl who's growing up so fast. We need to catch up on a lot. Coffee and tea are just a fraction of the million details I'd like to know about you."

I nodded my head and continued to slowly sip on my sweet tea. I was not going to have another awkward moment of choking on ice.

Janet sighed deeply and then faced me. It was odd for such an intense person who was sitting directly next to me to stare at me so intently.

She opened her mouth to speak, and I knew that I was going to be bombarded with questions.

Her chipper voice piped in, "Speaking of catching up, there's so much I don't know about you! How's high school going? Have you met any cute boys? Or girls, I know the times have changed and its the new trend to like the same gender. I won't judge. You know you can talk to me about anything, right sweetheart?"

I swear my dad and I simultaneously choked on our drinks. My eyes widened at the direct question and I struggled to clear my lungs of sweet tea. I immediately went to look at my dad who now had a deep frown set on his face. I gulped.

He was quicker to regain his composure and sternly said, "No, no, no, no boys. You're not getting a boyfriend until you're well into your thirties, or better yet after I'm dead. You don't have a boyfriend, right Thea?"

I was stunned. The conversation took a turn for the worst. If it was awkward before, it sure as Hell was awkward now.

My heart hammered in my chest and I forgot how to breathe.

I've only been here for like a half-hour and already they're asking me this? Dear Lord, I should have escaped to the guest room while I had the chance!

I nervously cleared my throat and tried to contain my shaky voice.

What the Hell, be calm! Fuck cucumbers, be as cool as an iceberg. Shit, shit, shit! Be calm! Stop shaking! Stop it!

"Hahahahha. Way far from it! Boyfriends? Pffft, I wish!" I dragged out the word "way" and exaggerated on the word "boyfriends." My dad didn't like my humorous approach and sure didn't like my last comment. He crossed his arms and leaned against the countertop. He was far from ending this conversation. I tried again. "Um, no. No boyfriends. I'm working hard to keep up with my studies and will not be distracted." I figured tagging an innocent smile to my answer would ease my dad's stress.

It worked.

Until Janet opened her mouth.

"No boyfriends? Well then, guess girlfriends will have to do! Young people nowadays usually go for both. I don't really understand it myself, but whatever works for you, honey. I'll completely support you." Her sweet honey-like tone did anything to ease my anxiety. I intently watched my dad's reaction to her comment. Astonishingly, he began to chuckle.

"Haha, now I know I may have only been in Thea's life for a good solid five years, but I raised her as a faithful Christian during that time. She knows not to even think about liking a girl. I will not have my little girl be the gossip of this town. Besides, it'll be a phase she'll regret and be ashamed of when she tells her husband one day." My dad uncrossed his arms and smiled proudly at me as if he just declared a holy truth that he was sure to be as true as his precious bible.

I, on the other hand, felt my stomach flip on a whole new level.

I looked to Janet for some consolation. I wasn't sure why, but what my dad said felt incredibly wrong. Shame clouded me.

What would he think of me if I said I don't agree with what he said? I just got here, I can't start drama now. And he seems so firm about his beliefs . . .

Janet smiled and looked at me intently. She sweetly said, "Your father's right, honey. Not all trends are worth following. Besides, I was only joking. You know that, right? You need to focus and get into a good college! What college are you planning to go into?"

Now, I knew that I disliked the fact that Janet and Randolph both thought that anything on the LGBT+ spectrum was a "trend" or "phase," and I felt like I had a sense of obligation to counter these statements for anyone who was on that spectrum, but I didn't want to cause trouble.

I'll tell them my opinions about this another time. Just let it go, Thea. Calm your storm. Now is not the time to start an argument.

I inhaled sharply and looked at Dad, and then back to Janet. I hesitantly replied, "Well, I know I want to do English as my undergrad." I bit my lip and waited for the inevitable question.

My dad beat Janet to asking the question, which took me off-guard. He expectantly asked, while seeming to take a professional tone when the college was mentioned, "And what exactly are you going to college to become? A doctor like your aunt Kendal or a lawyer like me? An accountant like your mother? Psychologist? Teacher perhaps?"

He walked over to the kitchen island and leaned against it, closing the distance between us. It was as if he was trying to trap me within his gaze, gluing me to the stool and leaving me no choice but to answer his question.

I scratched the top of my head and shifted in my chair. I crossed my legs to feel more professional but that only resulted in me feeling more stupid. I uncrossed my legs and readjusted my shirt, which was conveniently slowly riding up my body.

Get a grip, Thea! Just answer the damn question. So what if he has high expectations and standards? It's not like your dad is going to freak if you're anything but what he listed off, right?

I desperately gulped in a huge breathe and looked my dad straight into his eyes. I sternly kept my gaze. "Dad, I want to be a-"

The door that I entered the house swung open and nearly slammed into the gray painted walls. Tommy rushed in and immediately snapped his head in my direction. When his eyes landed on me, he gulped.

"I-I'm sorry Thea, but your suitcase kinda popped open, and, um, well Champion decided to claim your stuff and- just see for yourself."

I jolted out of my seat and followed Tommy outside, Janet and Randolph quickly followed suit.

What I saw made my eyes widen in horror and my face scrunch up in resentment. I scowled in distress and frustration.

Sure I cared about my clothes scattered all over the lawn and my undergarments displayed for the entire world to see. What sane person wouldn't be furious about their belongings being in disarray and messed with by their younger sibling? But that wasn't what had me fuming in vexation.

What laid in between Champion's paws and was currently being chewed and slobbered on was a small plastic bottle that held green "pixie dust" inside it. Four-leaf clover sequences and green sand was in the tiny thumb-sized bottle.

The very bottle that my older brother gave to me.

My good luck charm.

I wasn't too sure about God, and if he looked after animals, but whatever diety looked after dogs sure had their work cut out for them because they were about to deal with the wrath of Thea-mother-Montgomery-fucking-Finch.

And I was not a force to be messed within that moment.

***

Author's Note:

I think this chapter has been the longest one I've typed out so far. I'm sorry this update is slightly late. I've been adding on to it slowly throughout the past week. How do you guys like the length of this chapter? It's over 4,000 words! Is this chapter too long, short, or just about right? Tell me what you think about it! Do you guys like Thea more or less? Thoughts on the Finch family? Let me know your thoughts! Like always, if you've enjoyed this chapter please consider giving it a vote, comment, share, shout-out, whatever you're feeling like doing! Have a great day!

-R.R Villanueva