Author's Note: Okay, so this chapter is kinda a filler, like to feed in to Steffy's relationship with her brother, Spencer, so yeah. I mean, there's more, but that's mostly what's the point of this. Hope you guys like it! Lemme know in a comment? See y'all Tuesday! (:

Chapter 8: Some Might Say It's Nepotism

“Steffy, it’s not that hard; you can do it.” Spencer encourages standing up beside me.

“No, I really can’t.” I whine. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s pretty gross, yes, but at least she doesn’t have you feeding the chickens.”

“What’s so bad about throwing food at chickens?”

“There’s like thirty of them, and those birds really like to eat. They’re very impatient.”

“Well, I’d take that over this. A chicken doesn’t way three times what I do, but a cow does.”

It’s Tuesday and Spencer and I are out again in the barn. He had to force me outta my bed this morning because I was completely tuning grandma out as she threatened me this morning to get up. She didn’t bring the air horn this morning, which was good, because I seriously would have gone off on her if she had. Grandmother or not, there’s absolutely no reason to ever do that to a human.

It’s 7:20 now, so we’ve been out here a while. Since 5:30. All I’ve managed to do is sit on this stool and half way milk this damn cow. Daisy is the one I’m eventually going to milk. Yesterday morning I tried, to no avail, to milk Betsy, so I’m switching it up today. My grandmother also said that neither Spencer nor I is allowed back into the house until 7:45 - because she apparently thinks it requires exactly two hours and fifteen minutes to do all of what she’s making us to do.

I was actually kinda smart this morning, and wore the crappiest clothes I could find that I brought along with me. I have on a pair of paint splotched black sweatpants and a ratty grey t-shirt that I stole from Samuel, with a pair of old flip-flops.

“Stop being dramatic Steffy, and just milk the damn cow.” Spencer snaps. “Sorry.” He mumbles.

“Are you okay?” I wonder, looking up from Daisy’s milky udders.

Well of course he isn’t. Neither of us is okay. How could we be? We live in this tiny locker room sized home with our old grandmother and no money to the Vandergeld name. This is rock bottom. I mean, honestly, this is the lowest point a person can hit in their life. People like me, at least. I bet they’re all back in California laughing at us. Well not right now of course, because no one is up this early in California. Not in L.A. at least. But when they are up, and they hear the news of the Vandergeld’s going broke, they’ll all be laughing it up at the country club, sipping on lemonade, eating turkey imported from Maine and shit. And yes, I just made a reference to High School Musical 2. 

Spencer shakes his head, “Julia and I had a fight last night.”

“Really? What about?” I ask.

He and Julia hardly fight and when they do, it’s always over something stupid and irrelevant. Example? The last time I know of them getting an argument was last year over the Christmas Break. Julia’s family went to Prague and we went to Monaco, but Julia wanted him to go to Prague with her family and he wanted her to come to Monaco with us. They got into this stupid little squabble over it, and in the end, neither of them got to go anywhere because my parents were tired of my brother’s bitching and they grounded him and I don’t know what happened with Julia, but she didn’t come to Monaco.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I gotta finish feeding the chickens. You gonna be okay in here alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I reply, genuinely concerned about my brother.

“Have a good day at school.” He mumbles before walking out of the barn, leaving me alone with four fully grown cows.

Sighing to myself as the barn doors close, I scoot up on the stool, again focusing my attention on Daisy’s udders. Now I’m no genius or anything, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t what happens at legit farms. There has to be a milking machine or something to milk all the cows to save time, right? Right. I wonder where my grandmother keeps hers. She probably doesn’t have one, idiot.

Man, I have a really mean conscience. I realize that that’s probably accurate though, that she doesn’t have a milking machine. I don’t really know of her finical situation, but seeing as how she lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere, I’d guess it isn’t too extensive. Clearing my thoughts, I grab one of Daisy’s udders, copying what Spencer did yesterday morning and pull down on it, squeezing gently. A thin stream of milk pours out of her udder, hitting the pail in between my feet. I’m doing it! Like actually doing it!

I never thought in a million years I could say that I, Steffy Vandergeld, can milk a cow.

I mean, I don’t particularly enjoy it, but I can do it.

✈✈✈✈

“Morning,” Conrad greets, sitting beside me again on the bus.

“Why do you keep talking to me?” I ask, irritated by his stupid accent.

“Ah, so I see you’re still in a bad mood.” He notes as the bus pulls off.

I shake my head, “Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not just you. It’s this whole place.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense. How can you not love Tennessee? It’s Tennessee, Steffy.”

I roll my eyes at his dumb logic, and reply with, “And California is California.”

“Well, I’ve never been to California, but I’m wi--“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop. What? You’ve never been to California? How’s that even possible?”

He shrugs, “I don’t have any reason to go to California.”

“Well, no wonder you don’t mind being stuck here.”

“It’s really not that bad, you just…I dunno.” Conrad retorts. “Do you always do that?”

“Do what? I ask with a sigh, giving up on being able to block his voice out with music.

“Dress up to go to school.”

I look down at my outfit, a pair of green skinny jeans, a long sleeveless seafoam green shirt with the word ‘PINK’ written across the front, and a pair of green platform heels. As for jewelry, I’m only wearing a pair of flower green studs and a pair of bangles on my wrist.

“I’m not dressed up; this is normal attire for me.”

“Why does your green shirt say pink on it?” He wonders.

“Why are you still talking to me?” I demand, repeating my question from earlier.

“I thought you were past this whole ‘I-hate-Conrad-thing’?”

“Don’t you listen?” I snap. “I just told you that I don’t hate you.”

“So you like me?”

“Why do you care so much?” I ask in an exasperated tone.

He shrugs, “I want everyone to like me.”

I scoff, “Have you met yourself? You’re kinda insufferable.”

“Oh, geez, thanks, that makes me feel real good.”

“I’m a teenager, not Willy Wonka. I don’t sugar coat.” I reply.

I turn up my music as high as it can go and look out of the window. Hopefully he gets the message that I don’t want to talk to him right now or ever. And it’s honestly not even him. I mean, yes, he is very, very annoying, but I don’t have a problem with him. Other than the fact that he can’t run a credit card, that is. Besides that, I don’t particularly mind him, he just talks a lot and his accent is enough to make me wanna pull my hair out.

The remainder of the bus ride to school is quiet. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to say anything else to me. We exit the bus, and I look around, trying to decide where I’m gonna go. I remember Conrad saying that I could go to the cafeteria for breakfast - I’d rather stab myself in the face than eat their so called ‘breakfast’, go to the library, or just sit here. It’s pretty humid out; making me think it’s about to rain. I’ve been here two freaking days, and it already rains more here in one week than it does in two months in California.

I walk down the crackled up pavement, deciding to go to the library. I don’t know where it is, but I’m sure I’ll eventually find it. I cross my arms over my front and hold my purse closer to me. Like I said, I watch TV; I know what kinda stuff happens at public schools. Not that I have a huge amount of money in my purse or anything. I have like, thirty dollars, some gum, my cell phone and a few pencils and pens. Still though, I don’t want some bumpkin trying to rob me.

After about ten minutes of walking around, I realize that there obviously is no library. I’ve circled the school four times, walking around in search of a library, and I can’t find it. There’s just this stupid small building which is the school, and that’s it.

“Lost?” A familiar feminine voice calls from behind me.

I turn around, seeing Anna Grace standing there with a smile on her face. She’s actually, really pretty. The prettiest from her and her other friends, I think. Not to say that Madison, Laurel and Carly are ugly, because they aren’t, but Anna Grace is really pretty. Like, she looks like when she wakes up in the morning, she puts thought into what’s she’s gonna wear to school, like she aims to impress.  

“I can’t find the library.” I say, sighing. “Conrad told me yesterday that I could go before school or something, and I just wanted to check it out since it’s kinda humid out here, but I guess you guys don’t have one?”

“A library?” She echoes. “We have a library.”

“Where is it?” I wonder.

“It’s inside the building, but they don’t let you in unless you have a pass.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I agree,” Anna Grace says, nodding. “Where are you headed now?”

“I dunno,” I say, shrugging. “I’ll probably head back up to the front and wait for them to let us in.”

“What’s your first class?”

Reaching down into my purse, I take my schedule out, unfolding it. Like I said, this school has A/B days, meaning I take the classes every other day. Yesterday was an ‘A’ day and today’s a ‘B’ day. I peer down at the schedule, reading it careful.

“I have English III.” I tell her, and then push the paper back down in my purse.

“Oh thank God,” Anna Grace exclaims, throwing her hand over her heart.

I raise an eyebrow, “What?”

“Conrad’s in that class, and I cannot stand being alone with him.” She admits.

The bell sounds and the kids hanging out in front of the building all head towards the entrance, along with Anna Grace and I. “Why not? Like, why’d you two break up?” I ask curiously.

She lets out a huge sigh and says, “It’s a long, depressing story.”

I nod, gesturing for her to go on. I think you make friends this way. Listening to their problems? Like I said, I never had to actually make friends. Jasmine, Taylin and Britney were automatically my friends since our dads were friends. And the rest of my friends in California, well I just met them through parties and vacationing in the Hamptons on school breaks, mostly. I’ve never had to actually be nice to people, and express and interest in their lives though in order to become friends with them. Sure, maybe after I was friends with them I’d show a little curiosity for their lives. Maybe.

After thinking about it for a minute, Anna Grace replies with, “It was my birthday, well, the night before my birthday. Anyways, my parents were in Lewisburg at my grandparents’ house for the night, so I invited Conrad over. You already know it was a week before our two year anniversary, so I told him that my parents were gonna be gone for the night and he could stay over. So he came over, and long story short; he slept with my sister.”

I crinkle my nose in disgust, “What? Are you serious? Why?”

Anna Grace shrugs as we reach the front door, and pulls it open, the two of us falling into the flood of students going to their classrooms. “He said that he needed something different, so he got it. It was pretty bad, like a full out yelling match at two in the morning. I broke up with him, hit him a few times and then threatened to set his car on fire.” She says nonchalantly.

I laugh at that, “Were you really gonna set his car on fire?”

She shakes her head, “Hell no, I wasn’t trying to go to jail. I was just trying to scare him. Which I guess I did, because he left like immediately after that.”

I nod in understanding as we walk down the crowded and noisy corridor, “So, if he has a car, why does he ride the school bus?”

“Oh, his parents took it from him and gave it to his little brother. He got in some trouble a little while ago, and I guess that was the punishment him parents gave him.”

“He’s really on the welcoming committee then?”

“As far as I know,” Anna Grace confirms then says, “Here’s our classroom.”

We go in, sitting in a pair of desks dead in the middle. There are only a few other kids in here already. I should probably get around to buying myself some paper or something like that. Yesterday I just wrote on the yellow legal notepad in my purse, but I guess if I’m really gonna be staying here, I’m probably gonna need some paper for school. Anna Grace and I talk aimlessly for a few minutes - she’s mostly interested in my California life. She’s never been there either, which is just ridiculous. As I’m explaining to her the amazingness that is Disneyland, a voice interrupts us.

“Anna Grace,” He says, acknowledging her presence flatly like he did yesterday at lunch. Conrad slides into the seat directly behind Anna Grace and then looks at me, as I’m sitting parallel to Anna Grace. “Steffy? You didn’t say you had this class.”

“You didn’t ask.” I say, shrugging.

“Like you would have told me anyway. You’re preposterously stubborn.”

Anna Grace fake gasps, and then looks at me, “Did I just hear Conrad Cartwright use the word ‘preposterously’, in the correct sense? This is big; I think we need to call the Guinness World Record people and get this documented.”

Conrad scoffs, “Shut up, Anna Grace.”

“You shut up, Conrad. Steffy and I were having a conversation before you so rudely butted in.”

“All I said was hello. Is that a damn crime?” He asks harshly.

“Coming from you - yes.” She rebuts.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch about everything?”

“Why do you have to be such an insignificant dick about everything?” Anna Grace mocks.

Well, this is awkward. I’m kinda just sitting here listening to them go back and forth. I mean, I just met Anna Grace yesterday and Conrad Sunday, what am I supposed to do? I try to interject a few times, since they’re now practically shouting at each other, but their loud voices overshadow mine. The bell rings, and the teacher sends the two of them a death glare, causing them to stop immediately.

“Cartwright. Houston. Do you two want an after school detention?” The old man asks with a frown.

“No, Mr. Vaught.” Anna Grace and Conrad both simultaneously say.

“I thought not. Now, we have a new student.” He says, gesturing to me. “That’s Stephanie. In here though, she’s Vandergeld.”

“I actually go by Steffy.” I correct him.

“That’s great, but in here you’re gonna go by ‘Vandergeld’.” He informs me, walking to the whiteboard and scribbling some words across the board.

The chalkboard. There’s legit a green chalkboard at the front of the classroom. You know, the kind you see on TV and stuff. The chalkboard is even kinda pasty white, from the erasing of the chalk. I can’t believe this classroom doesn’t have a whiteboard. At my old school, a whiteboard was a downgrade - only the oldest classroom still had them. We had Smart Boards in each of the newly renovated classrooms. This is like living in Fred Flintstone time.

And I don’t like it.

I don’t like it at all.

✈✈✈✈

The remainder of my second day of Elm East - East Elm, whatever - goes by pretty quickly and without fault. In English, Conrad and Anna Grace argued for the entire ninety minutes, which was kinda annoying, but I didn’t say anything to make them stop. After English, I had American History with Wesley and Madison, and that was much, much more peaceful than English. The American History teacher, Ms. Hampton, was really nice and the desks are arranged in little pods. I sat with Wesley, Madison and some other girl, whose name I think may have been Mary Alice. Apparently they’re fans of that double name stuff down here in the south.  

In my beautiful California, we have normal, regal names. Well, those of us with money that is. The familiar ting in my stomach comes back when I remember that we don’t have any money anymore. The day was going so well too, until I remembered that. Anyway, after American History with Madison and Wesley, there was lunch. I ate with Carly, Laurel, Anna Grace and Madison like yesterday. Well, I sat with them. The lunch didn’t look good at all, like just eating it would give me freaking Lyme disease or something. And I don’t even think you get that from eating it, but that stuff looked like it had that kinda power.

After lunch I had Art - which I hate with a passion and no idea why I’m in there - with Laurel and Carly. I can’t even to save my own life. The Art teacher is pretty cool though, a little strict, but overall a nice young lady who looks fresh out of college, Miss Duval. She even told us to call her by her first name - Alice. That or Miss A. Then there was me, just sitting there thinking, “Why don’t we just call you by your name? That’d be ideal.” I didn’t say it though, because even I’m not that outspoken. Besides, it was my second day there, and I don’t think my parents would have reacted very happily to a call saying I’d been suspended for talking back to a teacher. Lastly, I had study hall with Anna Grace, which was the most boring ninety minutes of my life, but not an actual class, thank God.

I walk into the house, slamming the creaky door behind me and set out for me bedroom. My mother’s car isn’t outside, and neither is my dad’s - which arrived late last night along with Spencer’s - so I assume the two of them are gone. Spencer’s car’s out here, which doesn’t surprise me at all. He’s just the kinda guy that would rather spend all day holed up in a shoebox sized house than go out and look for stuff to do. Matter of fact, back in California, despite his social status, he was always either at home or at Julia’s place. As I make to the end of the corridor, and push my door open, Spencer calls me.

“Yeah, Spence?” I call back, going into my room.

“Grandma told me to tell you that she left you a list of chores that she wants done by six on your bed.”

I scoff, “Well you tell her I’m not doing shit.” I call back. “I’m tired.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, sis.”

Dropping my purse on the bed and taking my platform heels off I leave them by the door. I walk out of my room, going across the hall, and leaning against Spencer’s door frame. His room is just like mine, except his window is way bigger, and he’s got a TV. Spencer’s laying on top of his blue bed spread which is spread over the bed with a pair of black gym shorts and no shirt on. I told him to stop doing that - just lounging around without a shirt on because it’s weird, but apparently he didn’t listen to me.

“Still feeling down?” I wonder, noticing the sad grimace on his face.

He nods, “Yeah, a little. Julia called me a little while ago to apologize I think, but we ended up getting in an even bigger argument.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the distance?” I ask softly.

He shrugs, “Hell, I dunno. I think that’s probably just the cover up. Maybe we’ve been done for a while now. Maybe us leaving was just the actual wake up call to us both.”

“So you two actually broke up?”

Spencer shakes his head, “No. Not yet anyway. And we’re not gonna talk about it right now. How was school?”

I roll my eyes, “School is always terrible. It’s like a sitting health violation.”

He laughs at that, “How’s that?”

“I mean, there’s like mold everywhere and the grounds are all crumpled up. The classrooms are smaller than this room. There’s this really annoying guy there. Some of the teachers are just weird. And the lunches cause Lyme disease.” I sum up, only slightly exaggerating. “Not to mention I have to ride the bus to and fro every day. Speaking of which, why didn’t you call me and tell me you were here?! You could have come to get me so I didn’t have to ride that big, stinky school bus.” Spencer bursts out laughing, as if my misery amuses him or something. “Thanks Spencer; thanks so much.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you Stef,” He assures me through his hearty laughing. “It’s just that, Lyme disease doesn’t come from food. It comes from infected ticks.”

I roll my eyes, “Shut up. I didn’t ask for your salutatorian opinion.” I reply.

“What’s that you were saying about a boy? Is someone giving you trouble?” He asks in a suddenly somber tone. “Do I need to pay a visit to Elm East?”

I laugh, shaking my head, “Spencer, it’s East Elm, but no, you don’t. It’s just this guy. He works at the diner I went to our first night here. He’s like, totally retarded though, he couldn’t even run my credit card and I had to let him pay for me. God, it was so embarrassing Spencer.”

“He couldn’t run your credit card?” He incredulously repeats.

I nod, “Yeah. Dumbest guy ever, right?” I add with a chuckle.

Sure, I may be being a little mean right now, but honestly, all of my friends are back in California, probably spreading the word that I moved, Sam’s in Puerto Rico, none of the people I’ve made friends with here are close enough to me yet for me to bash others around them, and Spencer’s the only one left. It’s a last resort, really.

“Steffy?” Spencer says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup?”

“We’re broke, you remember that right?”

“Shhh! Don’t say it! That makes it more real.”

“It is real, sis. We don’t have any money. We. Are. Broke.”

“I kn-“

“That’s probably why the dude couldn’t run your credit card, because the bank rejected it. Why? Because there’s no more money. Not because he’s dumb.”

The realization hits me like a sack of bricks. Duh, Stef! Of course you can’t run a credit card if there’s no money to back up the purchase. Why am I so stupid? All this time I’ve been calling Conrad an idiot for not being able to run a card, when really I’m the stupid one for not registering that you can’t run a card when there’s no money. No wonder it declined!

“Wow, I feel like an idiot now.” I admit.

“And you are. That’s why God made me your brother, because I’m smart and can keep you from going astray.” Spencer says, laughing at his own joke.

“I don’t know what ‘astray’ means, but okay.”

He gapes at me, “You’re taking the ACT, like next month and you don’t know what astray means?”

I shrug, “Nope. It sounds like ashtray though. Does it mean something similar?”

My brother laughs - he’s sure laughing a lot at my expense today - “No, little airheaded sister. Ashtray and astray mean nowhere near the same thing. Astray means awry.” Raising my eyebrows to let him know that I don’t know what that word means either, he crinkles his forehead. “Really? Off track? I know you know what that means.”

“Oooh, duh.” I say, nodding. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

“Because I thought my seventeen year old sister would know what the word astray means.”

“Well she does now.” I reply in a chirpy tone.

Spencer chuckles and says, “Just go and do your chores, Stef.”

“Does my darling brother wanna help me?” I ask hopefully.

“He does not.”

“What kinda chores are even on there? Because seriously, I’m tired and I don’t feel like doing stupid chores for grandma’s stupid house.”

“All I know is that she wants you to sweep the living room and the kitchen. I don’t know what else.”

I groan, and say, “What’s she making you do?”

“What?”

“Like, what chores do you have to do?”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“What? That’s not fair.”

“Some might say it’s nepotism.” He tells me with a cheeky grin. “I’m just more loveable than you, I guess.” Spencer adds in jokingly.

I scoff, “Oh, yeah I’m sure that’s it.” I say sarcastically.

“Have fun,” Spencer says as I leave his room.

“Oh bite me, Spencer.” I mutter, going back into my room to retrieve this list of chores I’m supposedly gonna do.