Revealed

By Tommy Cornell

The 1st novel from the Larson trilogy: The Larson family is just like any other close knit average family until sixteen-year old Samantha stumbles upon a decade-old unsolved mystery. Their otherwise ordinary and quiet lifestyle is quickly transformed into a deadly and irreversible chain of events. Samantha vows to solve this enigma to completion, even if it is the last thing that she does.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tommy Cornell
• Release date: Nov 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466031500

Book preview

* Revealed *

(Book One, Part One)

-The 1st novel from the Larson trilogy -

By

Tommy Cornell

Copyright 2011 by Tommy Cornell

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Past Tense

Chapter 2 - Winners

Chapter 3 - A Piece of Me

Chapter 4 - Interpretation 101

Chapter 5 - Surfing

Chapter 6 - Protect and Serve

Chapter 7 - A Christmas Gift

Chapter 8 - Angst

Chapter 9 - Walk the Walk

Chapter 10 - Announcement

Chapter 11 - True Love

Chapter 12 - Lost and Found

Chapter 13 - Regression

Chapter 14 - Hanging by a Thread

Chapter 15 - Connect the Dots

Chapter 16 - Miracles

Chapter 17 - A Matter of Time

Chapter 18 - Family Ties

Chapter 19 - True Colors

Chapter 20 - Face to Face

Chapter 21 - Life and Death

Chapter 22 - Revealed

Chapter 23 - Crashers

Chapter 24 - Fugitive

Chapter 25 - Interrogatus

Chapter 26 - Deal of a Lifetime

Chapter 27 - The Belly of the Beast

Chapter 28 - Breathless

Chapter 29 - Rebirth

Chapter 1: Past Tense

She hummed an unknown lullaby as she joyfully skipped along the splintered sidewalk. Her flowing pink dress was wrinkled and predominantly soiled. The slight autumn breeze rustled her waist-length, tousled locks behind her bony shoulders. The outline of her naked feet fabricated odd-shaped silhouettes upon the loosened soil. The distractions of adulthood--job, college, and boys, are still many years ahead.

Today was supposed to be a replica of all the frozen hours that have passed her by. Time stands still for Emily, discernible in so many stifling ways. There was never a hint of forward progress actualized during her daily struggle--only hysteria, spinning out of control in a constant state of calamity.

Traveling on her familiar weed-lined path was her daily fulfillment, her peaceful retreat. Her very personalized Eden was waiting ahead to revitalize and recharge her. An escape from her snared existence toward her private world was beckoning her anguished soul. This realm is where she would be content to stay for an eternity--if the choice ever made itself plausible.

Just before reaching the overgrown passageway into the darkened woods, Emily abruptly ceases to a halt. Her petite, frail bones stiffened as two young teenage boys approached from the opposite direction. The taller of the two was pushing a yellow bicycle, and the other, a severely overweight boy, was trailing behind carrying a skateboard under his left arm.

Her wide cobalt blue eyes instantly shifted to the left, however, there simply was not enough time for her to make a dash to her safe habitat--for they already noticed her. Giving in to the circumstance, Emily dropped her small leather tote bag. With crossed arms she clutched her most prized possession--a torn and tattered stuffed rabbit that mostly resembled a pet’s chew-toy.

The boys moved surreptitiously closer.

Hey Donnie, look at who it is. It’s the Mutant Girl of Ekkland County!

The boys stopped to frontally converge upon Emily, blocking her passage.

What are you doing all the way out here little girl? How the heck did you get out? Another escape? Your granddad should throw away the key next time. The tall sandy haired boy taunted in delight.

Dave, do you know her? The short stocky boy inquired.

Everyone knows about her. Her name is Emily McCann. But we just call her Mutant Girl. She can’t speak and she’s got a crap-load of psychological problems. Just not quite right in the head, you know. Dave tapped on the little girl’s temple with his index finger.

Oh that’s right. I remember now. This is Johnny McCann's kid. Didn’t Johnny kill himself, or something? Donnie inquired.

Dave explained, Yep, the cleaning lady found him behind his shop hanging from a rope. He never showed up for Emily’s sixth birthday party.

I recall hearing about that--at his auto body shop. It’s abandoned now, right? Donnie asked.

Well the property had just been recently sold. The new owners are building a truck rental company there, I think.

Then Dave snatched the stuffed toy from Emily’s shaking fingers and quickly jogged behind her. Hey Donnie… go long! He yelled flexing his right arm.

Donnie hastily dropped his skateboard and chugged down the grass as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. I’m open! Here! Dave! His arms were frantically waving over his head.

The furry toy whirled in a high arc over the head of Donnie, well out of reach of his outstretched arms.

Dude, seriously. You need to lose weight! Dave yelled angrily, tossing his hands over his head.

Breathless and perspiring, Donnie lumbered back to Dave and handed him the toy.

Yuck, Dave sneered. Look at this ugly ragged old thing. Think I’ll bring it home for Leroy to finish off. It would only take him a few seconds to tear it to shreds. Pit Bulls love that sort of stuff. Hey Donnie, go see what’s in her bag.

Donnie squatted down in front of Emily and carefully lifted her tote. As he opened the cover, he caught a glimpse of Emily’s tightly sealed eyes. He watched, grimacing, as tiny delicate tears slid down her smooth pink cheeks. Donnie suddenly felt tremendous remorse at her anxious expression as he watched her bottom lip quiver.

Hey maybe we should leave her alone. Donnie pleaded to Dave, We should let her pass.

What for? We're just playing with her. Dave laughed impishly. She doesn’t have any friends anyhow. Everyone needs a friend. Even a screwed up mentally retarded kid.

I don’t think she’s playing, Donnie explained. She hasn’t opened her eyes since we got here and now she’s started crying.

So what? Oh I get it… Is she your girlfriend now? Dave taunted mercilessly. Seriously, if you fell on her you would squash her flat like a pancake! Not mention the age difference. You have like seven years on her!

I just think we should leave her alone. This is wrong to take advantage of a crazy kid--is all I’m saying, Donnie protested sharply.

Okay Mutant Girl, you were lucky your new boyfriend Donnie was here to protect you! Dave whispered in her ear, Do not move, we are going to come back with your granddad and stick you back in his basement where you are supposed to stay locked up!

Dave kicked Emily’s tote across the sidewalk, and the contents spill out--crayons, colored paper, and assorted pens. Let’s get outta here. We don’t want to end up a retard. Something may rub off. Dave trotted away hunched over, arms jerking, with his tongue sticking out.

Donnie followed a few paces behind Dave. What about her little stuffed animal?

What about it? Dave scowled. I told you, I am going to give it to Leroy. Mutant Girl should thank me. I’m actually doing the crazy kid a favor. It’s all grimy and disgusting and nice little girls shouldn’t be playing with it. She could get a disease and die. Now do you want that on your conscience Donnie? He chuckled.

She looks dirt poor, and by the way she is clutching the stuffed rabbit, that could be her favorite toy, Donnie continues pleading.

Who cares, it’s just a stupid toy. Dave dismissed Donnie’s concerns.

The boys both stopped walking and turned around to get one last look at Emily. She was still standing motionless, with her head bent down low.

Okay Donnie, I will give it back on one condition. You give me twenty bucks, Dave bargained.

Donnie lifted up his arms. Where am I going to get that kind of money?

You worked at your mom’s store last week. You must have made three times that.

Donnie frowned as he gazed away from Dave to stare at Emily’s pathetic hunched stance. His eyes were struck with pity, and deep sadness filled his heart for the young innocent girl.

Okay it’s a deal! Donnie smiled brightly.

Dave shook his head. I hope she is worth it. Donnie, I think that you are just as crazy as she is.

Donnie swiped the toy from Dave and beckoned over to Emily. There was no reply. He yelled louder and longer this time, but there was still no return acknowledgment. He walked around Emily from behind and crouched in front of her, holding the broken toy out to her. Here, take it. It’s yours again…. Donnie pleaded with hope.

Not a flinch or a blink was fashioned from the seemingly lifeless young girl. She stood rigidly unmoved and unwavering, like a stone marble statuette. Donnie’s head lowered in defeat as he sighed loudly.

Dave’s voice boomed from the distance, C’mon let’s go! We’ll be late for the watermelon, and then I am going to charge you another twenty bucks!

Donnie frowned as he gently placed the toy animal at Emily’s bare feet. He stood up and jogged around her in the direction of Dave, who had already progressed many yards up the street. The two boys walked away arguing about the events that had just transpired.

Emily’s tear soaked eyes opened. She slowly bowed down to retrieve her cherished companion and tote bag. After carefully checking over her shoulder at the now distanced boys, she scurried off the sidewalk and down the path through the vast clearing.

The empty house was an enduring monument of many past lives. An abandoned testament of glorious, and not so glorious history, sealed between its mighty hallowed walls. Residences in this section of the county were generously remote from the noisy city, and boasted large and spacious acreage.

The overgrown landscape smothered the stately façade, which gripped the tainted aluminum siding. Broken windows and loosely hanging shutters marred the once picturesque colonial, as it now stood only a vacant shell of its former glory.

Emily flattened the tall turf with every step, eventually making her way to the secret entry point. Shifting aside the debris from last night’s storm, she squeezed inside through a tear in the screen of the laundry room window--for her petite skeleton would barely fit. Stepping downward onto the dryer, she continued hopping until she landed onto the cold cement basement floor.

Wasting not another second, she quickly climbed the steep cellar steps, ultimately emerging into the brightly hit living room. Sunlight shone its warmth across the squeaky hardwood floor. This room was almost completely barren, except for a leather sectional sofa hidden under a king-sized white sheet.

Her journey persisted up the ripped, stained carpet of the hall staircase, toward the upper balcony. Her excursion abruptly ended down the long narrow second floor hallway. The attic pull-down staircase was jammed in the open position, awaiting her return to her private secret palace.

The dusty attic was only partially finished, for the other end would be a dangerous trek over long rows of thinly exposed wooden beams. The ceiling jutted upward to the main central support joist high above Emily’s head. On the front and rear walls are two octagon shaped fixed windows, which allow rays of natural light to enter the tiny rustic loft.

Against the back wall are various sized crushed cardboard boxes next to a rusty metal card table. Perched on top of the table are six stuffed animals of different sizes and shapes. Each animal was presented with a dessert plate, a fork, and knife. In the center of the table was an old tarnished silver tea set with eight matching cups. Emily carefully places her precious stuffed rabbit doll at the head of the table, and poured imaginary tea for her invited guests.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she emptied her tote bag and removed her supplies. Then she joyfully begins to color. Finally, at last.... All was happy in her special, child-created dream world.

The moment would only prove to be fleeting. Emily leaped up violently, and her head spun in an extended sweeping arc. Her eyes darted back and forth as the adrenaline swirled within her tiny veins. A white corporate van, with black writing, suspiciously moved up the long driveway. The brakes squealed as the van halted to a harsh stop. After a few seconds, the echo of a car door slamming entered her eardrums.

Emily hoisted herself onto a small wooden crate and peered through the grimy front attic window. Squinting in utter anticipation, her tiny fingers gripped the windowsill, hoping to get a glimpse of the intruder. Who could this be? No adults were ever allowed in her fantasy playground. This residence had been vacant for many years, as evident by the ‘Private Property - Keep Out’ sign permanently affixed onto the front lawn.

Emily could feel the tightness building around the center of her chest. Her terrified heart was propelling blood rapidly within her vessels. Viewing the driveway from the front window was hindered via a knotted grouping of maple branches.

Her breathing elevated as she now turned her attention to the rear attic window. Upon cleaning the glass with her palm, Emily was able to view a huge menacing figure wearing ragged blue overalls and a red baseball cap. His arm was towing a giant gray tarp behind him. Within his opposing hand was a large iron shovel. Slowly plodding, the man dragged the heavy tarp across the backyard and down the rear slope. Eventually, Emily’s view was obstructed, as the figure disappeared behind a decaying metal tool shed.

After what felt like an eternity, the trespasser emerged into full view again. He was carrying the iron shovel in his hand, but not the tarp. Where did the huge tarp go? What was in the tarp? Emily’s mind spiraled out of control.

As the man paused to remove his cap and wipe his forehead, Emily studied his gruesome features. His mostly thinning gray hair was cut very short, marine style. His small beady eyes reminded her of her wretched, treacherous granddad. But the feature that terrified Emily the most was the long scar that extended from his left eye down to his chin.

Hysteria had overtaken Emily’s nervous system. Gasping for breath, she jerked an uneven, agitated step backward. The dangling hem of her dress snagged the sharp jagged edge of the rickety table. Teetering violently, both the table and the tea set crashed down to the attic floor with an excruciating eruption of clamor. Emily flipped and landed on her back along with the destruction.

Gradually, she sat up and seized her right ankle. Blood was oozing from a deep scrape. She twisted around and lifted herself off the floor. Feverishly, she returned to the window again, but the hulking intruder was nowhere in sight. The rear yard was empty. Not a sound was heard except the cawing of a noisy crow.

Where did the meddler go? Emily did not hear the engine start or the squeaky breaks grind again. Did he notice her clumsiness? Did he hear the crashing of metal? Emily’s mishap certainly was loud enough to be heard from the far reaches of the property grounds. She knelt in the center of the attic and started to pray without ceasing.

A sudden echo emulated from somewhere downstairs. Emily wanted to scream badly, but tightly covered her mouth with both hands to disguise her anonymity. Two more thrashes are heard, followed by a long minute of silence.

Now there was a brand new sound, much worse than the banging. It was the vibration of oversized heavy footsteps, stomping inside the foyer below. Riddled with waves of dread, Emily crawled backward inside one of the flattened cardboard boxes, clutching her rabbit doll closely. She bent her throbbing head between her knees and curled up into a small human ball.

The pounding of the footsteps became increasingly deafening as the invader marched nearer to the attic. There was no question that the man heard the ruckus, and was now coming to investigate. She tightened her body to become as tiny as humanly possible, but the box does not completely obscure her. She closed her eyes tightly and shivered at the thought of the giant about to overtake her.

Each step was growing exponentially louder than the previous, as the invader moved to the bottom of the attic steps. The footsteps stopped abruptly under the attic opening. There was no other exit out of the attic for Emily. The only way out was the same as the way in--through the attic door. The attic was two stories high, and the windows are permanent furnishings--they do not open.

Emily was sure that this would be the end of her short life. A life surrounded with distress and shortcomings. Fate dealt her many difficulties and hardships. She frequently had asked her grandma why she was not created like other young girls her age. Grandma’s reply to Emily was, God wanted you to become stronger through afflictions. To build your character and rise up against adversity and become greater than everyone else.

The attic steps creaked and popped as the huge man ascended into the entrance of Emily’s kingdom. Lifting one huge boot at a time, the large figure lifted with each step.

With Emily’s eyes tightly shut, her other senses became more astute. She could hear his laborious breathing, a wheezing emanating from his huge chest. She could smell the heavy cigar odor smoldering from his clothes as his head poked through the rectangular opening. The entrance was suddenly darkened by his massive torso, which blocked the light from below.

His bulbous head slowly scanned the attic as his eyes began to adjust the low light. His squinting records all the detail, eventually ceasing his gaze at the table and the stuffed animals knocked about the wooden floor.

This was surely the end of her short and tumultuous existence. Emily was certain that her pint-size body would be pulverized thoroughly under the massive hands of this freakish monster. Then it would be her turn to be hauled to the back of the tool shed--to whatever horror was awaiting there. That tomb would surely become her final resting-place.

Emily focused only on her own heartbeat as her dry lips kissed the ragged rabbit doll that grandma had given her when she was a tiny baby. In times of intense strife, the doll reminded her of the safety of grandma’s arms.

She hoped this would be over quick. Akin to the way she felt when the police arrived to tell her mommy that her daddy had died. Daddy left for work that one morning, and traveled to heaven the same night.

Without warning, the stairs snapped and buckled, impaling the invader to the hardwood floor below. The sound of the impact was deafening as Emily held her palms over her ears. The man released a grunting scream as he landed on his back on the solid floor. The old rotted attic staircase had collapsed from his massive weight, bursting the wood into many shattered pieces. He was now lying motionlessly on his back amidst the splinters and shards of wood.

After a long silence, he finally regained his composure. He massaged the back of his head with his fingers and reached for his torn cap. Emily listened intently as the man limped his way down the hall staircase and out the front entrance.

Emily could no longer hold back her emotions. Her tears exploded like an overflowing raging river that floods its banks. Uncontrollable sobbing have overtaken her. She was relieved. The ordeal was over. All that was left to do was to remain in the attic until he left. He never saw Emily’s face. He was just inquiring about the source of what caused the crash in the attic.

The worst was over. She crawled from inside the box. Wiping her eyes, she stood up and stretched. She was a few minutes from getting out, and then she could try to forget this horrifying day--if that would ever be possible.

She filled her tote bag with her supplies and her trusty lucky companion rabbit. Glaring over the edge of the opening, Emily learned that the attic stairs have been severed below the bottom-most few steps.

The top steps were still solid, so she climbed down as far as she could, and then jumped the remaining six feet. She landed and rolled onto the hallway floor. The earlier wound she sustained against the card table reopened again.

Upon standing up, she felt a newly sharp pain in her opposing leg. Large wooden splinters had made their way under her fragile thin exterior. She leaned on her side at the top of the hall staircase to pick at her leg in an attempt to remove the wooden daggers. This was only marginally successful because some splinters were way too deep under her abraised skin.

The roaring slam of the front door was enough to send Emily’s pulse soaring again. She quickly vaulted to her feet. The unique sound came from the front foyer as the man in the overalls entered hauling a huge portable aluminum ladder. Trapped again she thought! How could this be happening all over again? The only exit route was down the hall staircase, and that was the direction the invader would be transporting his ladder.

Emily gingerly made her way to the bathroom at the very far end of the hall. She hopped into the bathtub and lay down quietly clutching her tote.

She heard the man unhinge his ladder underneath the attic opening amidst the rubble. He climbed, and as he approached the top, his cell phone rang. He leaned comfortably on the attic floor with his feet dangling through the opening. Yeah? The man answered. Huh? Yeah… It’s done… I heard something in the attic... What? I know… Don’t worry… Okay…

Emily sneaked from around the rear of the dingy shower curtain. She had to procure her final move now. Dusk was rapidly approaching, and the sunlight was swiftly fading. She delicately emerged into the hallway. She watched the man’s leg hanging out of the attic opening, swaying nervously. There was no effective secure hiding place on this level. All of the bedrooms were empty, and the closet doors have also been removed. If the man searched this level, he would surely find her.

His conversation continued as Emily tiptoed down the hallway toward his ladder. The aluminum ladder was blocking her escape. If she could somehow find a way to squeeze past…

Emily could hear the irritated voice at the other end of the conversation. She stretched out onto her back and slid cautiously underneath the first rung of the ladder. Peering upward, she can see the caking mud clinging to the cleats of his enormous boot.

Ever so carefully, Emily cautiously propelled with her heels as she slipped through the tiny gap under the first step of the ladder. After she was past and at a safe distance, she rolled over on her knees and continued crawling down the hall staircase. Softly, she descended each step, across the foyer, and out through the front door. The rush of freedom filled her nostrils as she accelerated through the front doorway. This time her escape was authentic. She was exhaustively free at last…

Chapter 2: Winners

Ten Years Later

Everyone held their collective breath as the orange leather ball hovered high above the rafters. It floated, as if powered by heavenly angels, traversing the length of the court. The hang time was staggering. The trajectory was flawless. The gathering of eager spectators marveled at the possibility of the outcome.

I, however, already knew the endgame. The result was so crystalline to me. There could be no other option. When my sister was involved, it could not fail. The laws of nature had a thing for her. The gods were watching over her, and always eagerly awaiting her beckoning degrees.

The buzzer blared sharply signaling the end of fourth quarter--exactly the same time as the ball swished down through the center of the hoop. The scoreboard lit up furiously! The fans exploded to their feet, and their cheering reverberated like a powerful locomotive steamrolling through the gymnasium.

How did I know for certain that the Ekkland County Warcats would finish victoriously tonight? Let’s just say that I have a personal stake, a strong bond, a direct kinship to the tall senior with the blond ponytail that the team elevated upon their shoulders.

I know I must sound jealous and envious, but nothing could be farther from the truth. My older sibling has always been an extraordinary athlete in any competitive contact sport. Her talents were boundless and her quickness and speed were unmatched in any arena.

She basks in the essence of every controversy--a crowd-pleaser extraordinaire. One local sportswriter wrote.

And during special moments like these, I am certain that I have seen the sun revolving around her. Of course I am only joking, right? I am genuinely happy for her and always supportive. She has found what makes her happy and knows just how to snatch it up. There is no discrepancy between winning and losing in her world--only varying degrees of winning.

I do not follow sports in any fashion, but I do know that the Warcats have lost every game for the last two consecutive seasons. So tonight’s first game of the season victory must really feel sweet for the locals, even if it was just a dumb high school basketball game--in this observer’s opinion. That being said, I will flash a brilliant bright smile and pump my fists in the air a few times this evening, so as not to be called a traitor.

A very youthful looking, muscular man in his early forties with short light brown hair approached. He was wearing a coach’s hat and a Warcat’s uniform. Aren’t you going to congratulate your older sister? That was a one in a million shot! He snarled and folded his arms.

Dad, I think I will wait until they stop taking turns lifting her up, I sneered.

Hey, why can’t you just be happy for Chrissy--just once? He looked down and shook his head in disgust toward me.

I am happy for her. I am just pissed at you! I groaned.

Dad’s expression was one of bewilderment. What did I do?

It’s what you didn’t do!

What are you talking about? he asked.

I rolled my eyes. I got the slow and uncoordinated genes. You used all the phenomenal genes on my charming sister!

We laughed in unison.

At that moment, two businessmen wearing black suits and skinny ties approached him. They have raincoats draped over their arms and are carrying expensive briefcases.

Coach Jim Larson, awesome game man! Your girl is the best thing we have seen from these parts in a long time! We would love to have her play for our college next year. How do we make that a reality? one man asked.

Awe thanks. I’d love to say that she gets it all from her old man--but I can’t! His proud smile beamed. Let’s meet in my office in twenty minutes and discuss the fine print.

The two men agree and laughed loudly. They each shook Dad's hand and walked back down to the court.

Dad turned to me. Samantha Larson, get your lazy butt off the bleachers right now and go show Chrissy that you are proud of her! He demanded. You only have one older sister, you know.

Yes I know. The five blood tests all came back positive," I said sarcastically.

He rested his hands on his hips and sighed angrily at me.

Okay, I know… I am going, I said, giving in. I stood up and hopped down each wooden step of the bleachers until I landed courtside. I met the team under the winning basket where they were still celebrating.

Chrissy danced to me with her arms stretched out. She clutched both my arms at the wrists. Sam, did you see that last shot?

It was so tense Chrissy, I covered my eyes the entire second half! I replied covering my eyes.

Chrissy crossed her arms and frowned as she stared at me. She was tapping her foot rapidly.

Yes… yes of course. I was here for the entire game. You were awesome sis! I screamed. We hugged as we jumped up and down playfully.

Thanks, it really means a lot that you are here, Chrissy said jubilantly.

Well, where else could I go? I do not drive yet and coach Dad is my ride, I explained in another sarcastic tone.

Chrissy’s face lit up. Are you coming to the pizza party with all of us?

I don’t think so. I have so much homework. I am writing my thesis on world hunger and ethical extensionism... It was so obvious that I just made up the topics. My sister was so accustomed to my sense of humor, but on occasion it had gotten me in deep trouble. However, the afternoon victory had put everyone in a great mood.

It’s only Saturday afternoon Sam. You have all day tomorrow to work on it… Oh my. She stroked my hair lightly. When are you going to chop a foot off? And maybe some warm highlights and curls. Also, you’re so pale. A quick trip to the tanning booth would do wonders!

I gently shoved her hand aside. I like my honest appearance. I don’t hide or cover up anything. Take me, or leave me.

"I’m sorry Sam, but from the looks of things, they have been leaving you. When was the last time a boy asked you out?" Chrissy’s exquisite eyebrows turned upward.

I scowled. When the right one comes along--

Chrissy interjected, Sam, even fisherman use bait! She laughed. I’m not saying a total makeover. Just some… enhancements like makeup and style.

I sneered. We all can’t be like you Chrissy…

She nodded. That’s so true. She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. It’s too bad that you don’t have blond hair and blue eyes like me. Then you would have so much more to work with."

I sighed deeply.

She continued, And ditch the sad sweat clothes. They make you seem … um… inane and so very uninteresting.

Thanks for the awesome critique. Next time we are stopped on a bridge, I will be sure to fling myself off. I frowned hard.

Chrissy slid her arm across my shoulder. Awe sis… I didn’t mean it that way. I just think that you could have so many more dates if you made a few simple... modifications. I am only looking out for you, like an older sister should!

Okay, so let me get this straight. I need to work on my hair, face, color, and clothes, and then I will have my pick of the best of Ekkland County High School’s finest hunks? I asked.

Well, all except the jocks. They prefer athletic type girls.

By athletic type girls, you are referring to cheerleaders, right? I chuckled.

Chrissy smiled at me.

But you forgot the main difference between those wonderful gals and me.

What is that? she wondered.

Cheerleaders are always ready to gyrate up and down screaming in short skirts, eventually rolling on the ground with their legs open, I smirked brightly.

Chrissy stared at me and shook her head in disbelief. Maybe they could teach you to be more relaxed, and loose, not wound so tight all the time.

Thanks for the great advice big sis, but I have a different definition of the word loose…

Chrissy dragged me to the locker room door. Now wait right here, Sam. Give me fifteen minutes. Don’t go anywhere.

She squeezed around the thick green metal door. It slammed closed behind her with a thud. I leaned my back against the cement wall and stretched my arms over my head. I could hear the muffled cheers and laughter radiating from inside.

I wandered over to the tiny trophy glass case embedded into the gymnasium wall. They are going to need more shelf space after this season, I chuckled. They will need to build a Chrissy Larson most valuable player section. Maybe she will even get her own wing.

I strolled over to a padded bench across the hallway and sat down, crossing my feet at the ankles.

The excitement was slowly waning as the cars in the upper parking lot were driving off honking in delight. I sighed and removed a piece of gum out of my coat jacket and unraveled it. As I chewed, I could think of at least a dozen other places I would rather be on a Saturday afternoon. It was not as if I am needed here amongst her friends. I could never understand why she seeks my approval on such things. Her friends are all seniors, and I am just considered fodder for her upper classman. I only hope that next year, I will not exhibit such juvenile behavior.

Nervously, I peeked at my watch. Hurry up Chrissy… I mumbled.

Approaching from the gym door was the matriarch and ruler of the Larson family--Mom. She was always the picture of elegance, with her newly cut short blonde hair, each strand meticulously sprayed in place. The aging process had been very kind, as she looked ten years younger.

Samantha dear, are you waiting for Chrissy? she asked, looking at her mobile device.

Yep, she mentioned a pizza party or something.

Oh that’s just wonderful! She kissed me on my forehead.

It’s really nothing Mom. I don’t even know why she wants me there. I don’t fit in with her gym-rat jock mates.

You know how she looks up to you. She values your opinion. Chrissy listens to you. She trusts you… And of course, it’s nice to see you getting out for a change. I thought that you may have turned into a vampire… Mom roared loudly!

Carolina Larson! I exclaimed. shh… don’t let my secret out! We both laughed.

Oh never, never, sweetie! Now you go and have fun today and I’ll see you later. I am late for two meetings, but I promise that I will not be home too late.

The sound of a car horn honked repeatedly. She blew me a kiss and quickly scurried down the long hallway and out the exit door.

Mom has always been the glue that holds this family together. She seems outwardly flighty sometimes, but behind that absent-minded facade was a shrewd businesswoman that was able to create her own flourishing real estate business. Before long, she expanded her company with branch offices across four counties in our old neighborhood back in New England.

She gave it all up when she accepted a partnership to head a multi-million-dollar commercial real estate firm here in Ekkland County. For this was the reason we transferred here this past September, just three short months ago. What sane person would turn down a six figure annual salary these days? So, here we all are, formerly from the big city, trying to figure out a cow from a deer!

The locker room door flew open, and the Warcats teammates rushed out to fill the hallway. The last one out was Chrissy, swinging her overstuffed gym bag over her shoulder. Sam, has Bradley arrived yet? she asked.

Bradley was Chrissy’s boyfriend of three months. They met on the first day of economics class. He is a six-foot two, senior with broad shoulders, and a daunting, chiseled and muscular appearance. It would make perfect sense that my sister would hook up with the captain of the football team. I have to add that he is not my type. I like my men to formulate more than two-word sentences. For me, that is a deal-breaker.

No, I have not seen him yet.

Wait… Chrissy is reading a text message. Okay, he is going to meet us there. He is picking up his football buddies first.

Where are all of us going? I asked.

The new place on Main Street--Pizza at Bernies, Chrissy replied.

The wild joyride to the restaurant was socially debilitating, not to mention utterly embarrassing. A tailgate party of four open-back trucks carrying screaming girls through small town traffic was just what this town needed to shake things up. I cringed with my head held low, as I lay down across the front seat of the lead truck, obscuring my identity.

The motorcade came to a screeching halt in the parking lot of Bernie’s. The young woman behind the counter was shocked to see a dozen shrieking girls, and two coaches, overrun the quiet family establishment. The team dispersed into five red leather booths, as Dad placed the food order. Bradley’s mob entered next with his crew of rowdy seniors. They claimed the tables adjacent to us.

Chrissy flopped into Bradley’s lap, and instantly Dad quickly lifted