4.27 The Invisible Heffner

4.27 The Invisible Heffner

Celeste

People say my mom was beautiful. Whenever someone mentions her name they always give this sad sigh and look into distance. "What a tragedy. What a loss of beauty and talent," they would say.

I look nothing like mom. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even a true Heffner. I don't want to be, if it means being a controlling jerk like my brother.

I inherited my dad's looks. He was a brilliant neurosurgeon, that much I know. Whenever I'm looking at his picture, I focus on his hands. When I was a kid, I often dreamt of his hands stroking my hair. I used to believe he and mom are angels watching over me. Well, newsflash: there are no angels. If there were, they would have intervened by now. No, it's everyone for themselves. It's always been that way. I know that now. You can't rely on anybody, because everybody leaves you sooner or later.

Still, I would give anything to have my parents back. Especially dad, because I think we are very alike. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom too. But I feel like she's taking enough space in Chris' and everyone else's heart. Someone needs to love and remember dad too. Who better than me?

No one outside medical circles speaks about dad anymore. As if he never existed. I'm very much like him in that regard too. No one especially cares about me and what I think or what kind of person I really am. All everyone cares about is the family name. It's also why my second name is Heffner, not Kane, as it should be. Despite the family name and all the fame it brings to my jerk of a brother, I'm rather invisible. Which is why it's no surprise that everyone forgot about my birthday. It wouldn't have happened if Kellie was here. And I'm sure dad wouldn't have forgotten either.

There's so little to remember my dad by. Few pictures, medical books, some clothes Kellie refused to throw away, an old laptop. You could fit it all in a cardboard box. How unfair that some people have their dads all over the news. Dads who have done no good for anyone. Unhinged psycho criminal dads who don't even deserve to be talked about and yet they are.

What is it with the fascination with murderers anyway? People write books about them, have long discussions about their personalities, they get referrenced in almost everything. "It happened in the year of Corleonesi's trial", "He came home from the party last night looking as if Corleonesi did a real job on him", "Did you see the evil look in little Jimmy's eyes? His parents should take him to a psychologist to make sure he's not the next Corleonesi". Why doctors get famous only when they find a cure for a deadly disease or discover new cells? They save lives every day. I want to write an email to the papers and tell the people working there to get a grip. But I doubt they would. The only thing my emails might accomplish would be getting my name on the front page, not my dad's. It's how things work these days.

I should probably mention that I'm staying in Kellie's bedroom now. I don't fit my old bed anymore. Chris says we'll be moving to a new house soon and redoing my bedroom would be a waste of time and money. It's sad and funny at the same time. I may not fit my old bed anymore, but that doesn't bother me nearly as much as the feeling that I don't fit in this family. I don't feel proud I'm part of it like he does. Maybe if I was the heir, it would be different. Or not.

I met the designer, Ms. Candy, the other day. We picked the furniture and decor for my new room together, but until it's finished I'm staying here in Kellie's. It's not like she's coming home any time soon. We haven't heard from her since the fire in the lab. I'm replaying our last conversation in my head over and over. Has she really been helping Corleonesi? Kellie who never even crossed a street on red lights? Then again, she considered him a family. But what about me and Chris? Are we not her family too? I keep asking myself why she did it. Maybe she'd had enough of Chris and needed some time away. Can't blame her for that.

He's still mad at her. Chris, I mean. And that's why I'm not. To spite him. We keep eating take out food for dinners and Chris grumbles every time we do. "Your irresponsible sister went on her little adventure with my blasted dad and left all duties in this house on me! As if I didn't have enough on my plate already!" All duties in our house meaning me, of course. Kellie must have totes been sick of Chris. Just like I am. Every. Single. Day.

There's Corleonesi wanted poster on Kellie's wall. I still remember the day long time ago when we walked in the park and Kellie spotted it pinned to a tree. "Can't people put these on a proper spot?" she muttered and snatched it off the tree. Later I caught her hanging it on the wall in her bedroom next to mom's photo. I asked her why. "He's our family too, sweetie," she said and patted my head. I would have thrown it away weeks ago, if I didn't know it would make Kellie upset when she comes back.

Kellie always surrounded herself with pictures of our family. As if she could defy the genetics and turn her blood into Heffner blood with the sheer power of her love. As if it mattered. But I get it, because I too long for things I can't have. For starters it would be nice to have a brother who doesn't treat me as an inconvenient roomer. I still don't get it. Why does Kellie give such a damn about the Corleonesi guy, family or not? Wasn't it him in the first place, who indirectly caused the death of our mom? And my dad? I hate to agree with Chris on anything, but he may not be so wrong to hate his old man so much. Kellie and I should be hating him too. When I think about the last twenty something years of our family history and what I heard or read about it, I see a shadow looming over us. A shadow preventing us from being happy. A shadow that is Corleonesi. The moment he showed up, things went from bad to worse for my family. Someone should finally deal with the guy for good.

* * * * *

Today is my first day of high school. I'm glad summer is over. I need to get out of the house. I couldn't even go for a jog last month, because there was always some reporter waiting outside to bother me or Chris with their questions. But they are not allowed to bother students on school property.

Unlike some kids who hate school, I actually like it. I enjoy studying, because it gets me closer to my goal: move away and live on my own, preferably not in Newcrest. Studying biology also makes me feel closer to my dad. I tried to read some of his medical books, but those are too professional for me yet. I need to learn the easier stuff first. As they say, you need to learn to walk before you can run. I wish I could speed up the process, skip several years somehow, finish university and free myself of my brother's benevolent despotism. Sadly, there is no fast way.

I did some extra studying during summer to get ahead, though. I couldn't go out and hang out with people of my age because of those stalking reporters. Not that I had any close friends to hang out with. People may generally like our family, but they were reluctant to let their kids play with me, especially in our house. The kinship of Chris and Corleonesi has been publicly known for a while and no parent would risk that their children become collateral damage in another vengeance hit against Corleonesi and his family. What happened in our old house was still fresh in everyone's memory.
I don't expect things to change much now that I am fifteen. I will keep to myself as usual. No one is going to give a damn anyway.

I tossed a couple of things into my backpack. I still didn't have everything I needed for school, because Kellie wasn't around to go shopping with me. But I would rather have my leg cut off than ask Chris for money. He just didn't get it, had only himself on his mind as always.

I was brushing my teeth when my phone rang.

"Sweetie, I am so sorry..."

"Aunt Marissa?" My heart stopped for a moment. Is she calling to give me bad news about Kellie? No. Chris would be the first to know something.

"Celeste, I am so sorry we forgot about your birthday."

I released the breath I was inadvertently holding. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's just... with everything happening with Kellie... It was always her who kept track of birthdays and anniversaries and reminded everybody not to forget." Aunt Marissa paused and her deep sigh filled my ear. The longer Kellie was gone the more often people referred to her in past tense. No. Please don't give up on her. She will come back. She is not becoming another mom I lost for good!

"Stop by, when you can, we'll have a little something for you here."

"You don't have to, aunt Marissa."

"We absolutely do. Chris should throw you a party." Yeah, like that's ever going to happen.

"I'll mention it to him," I lied.

"Do that. We all could use a little distraction. Speaking of distractions, Angie just started crying upstairs. I need to be going. She's teething, poor little thing. Don't forget to stop by, Celeste. I mean it. Later, Sweetie."

Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe all Heffners weren't that bad. Maybe I was born into the wrong Heffner family. Aunt Marissa and uncle Brian were okay. As for the rest of my relatives, I barely knew them. Uncle Bradley was travelling the world, looking for fortune and love. Uncle Bernd lived in San Myshuno and played violin in SM Philharmonic Orchestra. Uncles Bao and Batyr lived with their families in Willow Creek and Oasis Springs. I only saw them couple of times at birthday parties and funerals.
Speaking of funerals... Did I mention my jerk of a brother had my father's remains moved out of the family crypt to the public cemetery? He said it was to allow my dad's friends and relatives to visit his grave any time they wanted, because the crypt was closed to the public. Loads of plum, if you ask me. I'm sure he moved him because he wasn't his dad. Not that I believed he would treat his own dad better. Still, he hasn't gathered enough courage for patricide yet, so I can't be a hundred percent sure. Who can really tell what is going on in the turnip that sits on his neck anyway?

With a sigh I opened the closet to pick something to wear to school. Over the past months I have grown much taller. I grew out of most of my clothes and I still needed to restock my wardrobe. Same as with the school supplies. Perhaps I could borrow something of Kellie's. There was a slight problem, though. I had practically no boobs. My sister on the other hand was well-endowed in that department. I had nothing to fill the loose space on the front of her tops with. I was reaching further into her wardrobe to rummage through the stuff she didn't wear anymore, when I heard my brother calling my name.

"Celeste! Are you up?"

"Yeah," I shouted back.

"Can you come downstairs now?"

One had to drop everything and answer His Highness' summons if one did not want a Chrissy fit to ensue. So I did drop the piece of clothing I was holding and go. If not in the name of the world peace then at least in the name of the peace on the home front.

"Coming!" Dick-tator. I added silently.

Chris was waiting for me in the kitchen and he looked... I would have said almost contrite, if I thought such thing remotely possible. Maybe he knocked one of his girlfriends up and he was going to tell me now. Wicked glee filled my heart. He would be busy changing diapers and controlling someone else's life. I supressed a grin at the thought.

"Uhm, it looks like we forgot about your birthday," he said instead.

A frown replaced my glee. There's no we, brother. You forgot, because Kellie wasn't here to remind you. It's all on you, Turnip head.

"I'm really sorry, sis."

Whoa. Is he really apologizing to me? Did the Hell freeze or something? I stared at him. Had I known this moment would come, I would have recorded it on my phone and play it loud whenever he bosses me around again.

"Is there something I can get you as a belated birthday gift?"

Let's see... You could start treating me as your sister not a burden. You could give back everything you stole from me when you proclaimed yourself the heir. I don't need a birthday party. A car would be nice, though.

"I don't need anything," I heard myself say.

"You sure?" He looked surprised. Thought all teenagers were greedy little monsters, have you?

"Yeah, I'm sure."

It's hard to pick a present for a sister of whose interests you know nothing about, isn't it? If you cared, you would have bothered to learn something about me. I won't accept anything from you to ease your guilty conscience.

"Not even a cake?"

I said nothing. My irritation with him increased. A cake? He's offering me a cake when there's so much more he owes me.

He rubbed the back of his neck. It's his telltale sign that he's clueless and wants the conversation to be over. The other day our neighbour had come to complain about the reporters camping outside our house. They knocked over his trash can and trampled the lawn in front of his house. Chris stood there for a whole minute gaping and rubbing his damn neck before he finally apologized and promised to make amends.

When the silence between us stretched for too long, Chris laughed nervously. "Well, your room in the new house could be considered sort of a birthday present. So I didn't completely screw up, did I?"

Yeah, keep telling yourself so you can feel sort of a less shitty brother.

I couldn't stand the sight of him any longer and turned away. "I need to get ready for school," I threw over my shoulder, retreating to the stairs. He wouldn't let me escape so easily and followed me.

"Wait we haven't finished our conversation."

I stopped in the middle of the stairwell and turned around. I smirked inwardly at how small he looked from up there. "I don't want to be late on the first day of school."

"I'll drive you."

"Actually, I wanted to walk today."

"That's not a good idea, Midget..."

Not this stupid nickname again.

"...one of those reporters may still show up and bother you all the way to school. We don't want that. I'm driving you. Period."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine." So much for a nice walk to clear my head and get over another fruitless conversation with my deficient brother. "Uhm... don't worry about the birthday present. I don't need anything."

"Don't need or don't want?" I heard him mutter as I turned around and quickly climbed the rest of the stairs.

* * * * *

We rode in silence. Chris rarely turns the music on. It's another thing we disagree on. Who doesn't love listening to music while driving, especially a sports car like this one?

The school's only a couple of blocks away, but it may as well had been on the Moon, because getting there felt like eternity. Chris could have loosen up and speed up a bit. It's not like his cop friends couldn't make his speeding tickets disappear. But no, he wouldn't break a single rule. What do all the girls see in him anyway? Even some of the girls of my age had crush on him. Geez, why? He's such a killjoy.

"Why don't you get rid of it?" I asked when I couldn't bear the silence in the car any longer.

He raised his eyebrows, eyes still fixed on the road. "Get rid of what?"

"The car. It's from him and you hate him. So why don't you get rid of it? It's old anyway. You could get a new model."

My question caught him by surprise. He opened his mouth several times and closed it again, looking like a fish out of water. "You wouldn't understand," he said at last.

Typical excuse of an adult who doesn't want to explain things. What did I expect? A meaningful conversation with my brother? It was always 'You wouldn't understand' or 'It's complicated' whenever I asked about important stuff.

"Try me."

"It's complicated. I don't want to talk about it right now."

Here we go.

I sighed loudly. Chris turned right. One more turn and we would be at the school. "Can you drop me off here?" I asked.

He slowed down. "Why? We're almost there."

I couldn't tell him I didn't want everyone in front of school staring at us, when we arrive. Because they would. Because of him. He drew a lot of attention, that was a fact. I wanted to avoid the looks and whispering. I wanted to slip in and blend in today.

"Let me walk the rest of the way. Please? There are no reporters here, unless they followed us from our house." I looked around. "Which they clearly didn't."

He gave me a resigned look and pulled over. "Alright. But go straight to school, okay?"

"Sure. Where else would I go?"

I started getting off the car and breathed a sigh of relief. Now I can arrive to school like a normal person, not a sister of a Newcrest celebrity.

"Hey, Celeste," Chris said.

I turned around. What now?

He nodded towards my neck and looked as if he was attempting to smile. "What's with the skull?"

I had been wearing it for ages and he noticed just now? "Nothing. It's just a pendant." It's a skull. Skull means death. As in: Drop dead. Or Death plumming Metal!

"Oh."

He didn't want to talk about his dad and now he wants to make a small talk about skulls? He needs to have his head examined for sure.

"See you later then, I guess," I said more then ready to show him my back.

"Want me to pick you up after school or send someone?" he asked.

"I'm not seven, Chris." Geez.

In return I received less of a smile and more of a dictatorship again. "Straight home after school then, Midget."

"Aye aye, sir." Go plum yoursef.

* * * * *

Newcrest kids. Friends I couldn't have had. Some of them I knew from grade school. Some of them I had never seen before. They must have moved in town recently or were from Willow Creek or Oasis Springs. This particular school was mostly attended by rich kids. Or exceptionally talented ones. I dare to say I was a bit of both, but the truth was that as the founding family we had the privilege to pick any school in Newcrest and didn't even have to pay the fee. But we could be expelled as anyone else, because the rest of the rules still applied to us.

Speaking of exceptionally talented. Andre Savage definitely wasn't one of the rich kids. He was really good at programming and all computer related stuff. He had been creating various useful apps for his phone ever since he got one. Helped me with my homework twice too. I suppose we could have been friends, if he didn't prefer the company of his computers and various gadgets. But whenever you needed to recover lost data or fix your phone he was your guy.

When he spotted me, he waved.

Then there was this girl who clearly loved black. I had seen her hang out in our street a few times. I even remember speaking to her once. Her name was Nancy or Stacey. She must have remembered me too, for she was staring at me. Maybe a bit too much. Then all of a sudden as if she gathered courage or something and walked straight to me.

"Hello, Celeste Heffner," she spluttered and before I could say anything she passed me by and was gone.

What the heck?

I also knew the blond jock. It was Nick Terrell, son of the basketball star Larry Terrell, who moved to Newcrest from San Myshuno five years ago after he had retired. Great things were expected from Nick on basketball court. What I expected after what I had learned about him from Facebook and other social media, was for him to contract STD or knock some girl up rather sooner than later.

I had no idea who the one with the dyed hair was. He looked okay, though. Later I learned his dad was in a band. A band named Deep Rift of which existence I had no idea either. But that was about to change very soon.

None of the students waiting in front of the school deviated from what I expected to see here, except for one girl I hadn't seen around before. She looked like she had just returned from a vacation in some exotic country and went straight to school. With her outfit she didn't fit at all and it didn't go unnoticed. Connie Schaffer and Erica Bradley who were the local popular girls (Erica was actually the one who had told me her parents forbade her to play in our house when we were kids) already started whispering and shooting glances her direction. They continued giggling and whispering until they seemed to have decided to get confrontational, because they approached the dark skinned girl, each from either side.

I had to admit there was something about her that fascinated me too, so I moved closer to hear how it would play out.

"Hey. Nice rags," Erica said and from her tone it was clear she didn't mean it as a compliment.

The new girl kept on playing with her phone and didn't aknowledge them.

"Where do you shop?"

Connie snorted. "At Dumpster.com, most likely."

As I was inching closer, I noticed something interesting. There was a People magazine peeking out of Erica's bag. It wasn't the newest issue, but the previous one with Chris and uncle Terry on the cover. Well, I'll be damned. Was Erica one of those crazy girls who secretly dreamt of becoming the next Mrs. Heffner? Watcher preserve me.

"Is she def on top of being clearly overweight?" Connie asked, when the new girl kept ignoring them.

Erica poked her. "Hey, we are talking to you."

Finally she looked up. "Oh. You're talking to me? Didn't hear you say hi and introduce yourself."

Erica and Connie exchanged smirks. They were so going to eat the girl alive. "We were wondering if you plan to insult this school and all of its students by wearing these rags every day," Erica said.

I grimaced inwardly. There was nothing insulting about her outfit. Yes, it was different, somewhat tribal looking, but still in accordance with school rules. There were other students dressed more poorly, if I had to be honest. But if Erica's own outfit was any indication, she would have preferred that a school uniform was mandatory for everyone.

"Actually," the new girl said while putting away her phone, "it's you who is insulting the traditional clothing of my people by calling it rags. Do you know you could go to jail for it in my country?"

"Newsflash. You are in our country now. No one here wants to look at the show of poor taste in fashion of your people, whoever they are."

"Malagasy. They are Malagasy people from Malagasy republic."

Erica curled her lips. "Whatever. Who cares about some banana republic?"

Connie laughed. "Maybe she's got such a fat ass, because she's been eating nothing but bananas all day."

The girl from the land with the strange name turned to face her. "I'm perfectly content with my body. You on the other hand seem to have issues, since you keep mentioning weight. Do you suffer from eating disorder? Have you consulted a healer?"

She said it in a completely non-confrontational manner and I could tell she hit the nail on the head, because Connie's face went red immediately.

"You...you nobody..." she gasped.

I chose this moment to step in, althought the Malagasy girl didn't seem to need my help at all. I don't know exactly when and why I came to the decision I wanted to be her friend. Maybe it was because she didn't fit in just like I felt I didn't fit in my family. Maybe it was because of something gracious that I saw in her. Or the fact that she seemed to be in complete peace with herself and the world around her, kinda like people who are high and don't give a damn. I pictured myself coming to her rescue, winning her friendship right away, but it didn't go that way.

I cleared my throat and said "Hi," looking directly at her.

To my surprise Erica pulled me in a hug. "Celeste! Hello! I was hoping to catch you before the school starts. You absolutely have to sit next to me in all classes we will have together!"

I was rendered completely speechless by her sudden friendliness.

"But you said you wanted me to sit next to you," Connie objected.

"You can sit behind us, Connie. People like us, of a certain social status, need to stick together, wouldn't you say, Celeste?"

"I... uh..." I glanced at the Malagasy girl who watched me with what I would describe as a sympathetic expression. "I don't think I have any special status," I said, feeling embarrassed.

"Nonsense. Of course you have. No need to be too modest about it. You are the descendant of the Newcrest founder. You stand high above the most. Our current company included." She shot a meaningful look at the Malagasy girl. Then she grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me to the school. "Let's go in and find ourselves decent seats before the roll call starts."

Erica had her own plans about high school friendships and was much faster than me in executing them. Before I knew it I was seated at the desk next to her in the front row of the classroom. Sulky Connie sat behind us next to Stacey. My eyes searched the classroom only to find the Malagasy girl sitting in the back next to another girl I didn't know. Next class. I'm going to sit next to her and talk to her next class, I promised myself.

The roll call started. Erica supplied me with gossip about every person whose name was called. I barely listened to her. I was waiting to learn the name of my future best friend. The teacher was through the first half of alphabet and still nothing. Erica jabbered something about Andre and him allegedly changing his socks only once in two weeks, when I finally learned the name. The teacher mispronounced it and repeated it twice before the Malagasy girl realized they meant her and corrected their pronounciation politely. I wrote it down. Jordan Tawedzwegwa. It was a mouthful for sure. I smiled for myself. The name was as unusual as its bearer. I was outlining the name in my notebook until I memorized it. You don't know it yet, Jordan Tawedzegwa, but you and I are going to be besties. Erica could go and latch herself onto someone else for all I cared.

Next class was graphic design. Erica didn't forget to inform me that most girls signed up for the class only because the teacher, Mr. Taylor looked like a twin brother of Ryan Gosling. As to why I signed up for it, well, my reason was pretty lame too. The subject wasn't related to biology or any stuff I wanted to study. I sometimes enjoyed editing photos and somehow I thought I would learn more about how to use graphic programs in the classes. I hoped it would be a fun class for me to relax in. But graphic design was much more than that, as I was slowly becoming to realize. It would require more studying than I had anticipated.

During the recess Connie and Erica got into a fight, because Connie was pissed off to have had to sit next to 'the weirdo Stacey'. She didn't like it that I had taken her place. That made two of us. I used this opportunity to make myself scarce. For all I cared the two of them could enter into a marriage. They were right for each other. I had a more interesting person to talk to.
I hurried to the computer room where the next class was taking place. I saw Jordan go there as well. The seat next to her was still empty. It was now or never.

"May I sit next to you?" I asked.

She fixed her eyes on me. "I don't know, Heffner. Are I and this chair ready for someone of your social status? And most importantly do you deem us worthy of dwelling in your high and mighty presence?"

Ouch. But at least she remembered my name.

"Social status is overrated," I said with what must have been a very stupid grin, because it made my cheeks hurt.

"Maybe you should carefully weight its benefits before you renounce it."

"I have and I do renounce it. I wouldn't be asking if I wanted to hang out with those two snobs. Can I sit down now?" Come on, say yes already.

"Do you even know my name?"

I rolled my eyes inwardly. Why can't she just say yes? She was turning this into an initiation ceremony. Answer all questions correctly, Celeste, or your blood will be spilled and flames will consume you. But I was prepared. "Sure I do know your name, Jordan Tawedzwegwa."

Her face told me she was impressed. "Very well then, descendant of the Newcrest Founder, take the seat."

Hallelujah!

I noticed Stacey was seated behind me again, but Connie and Erica were nowhere to be seen. Looked like they hadn't signed up for this class. I smirked. Maybe they were not Ryan Gosling fans. Speaking of Ryan Gosling, Mr. Taylor entered the classroom and yes, the resemblance was striking.

Right after him Erica slipped into the class in the last moment. I wondered where she had left Connie. Her eyes searched the class until they found me. She frowned when she noticed next to whom I was sitting, then she sat down next to Sapphire. I remembered her name only because her hair were dyed blue and I thought it was funny considering her name.

After introductions Mr. Taylor wanted to test our skills and gave us an assigment to edit a photo and make pop art poster out of it. I had watched some useful tutorials on You Tube when I had been playing with a picture of my favourite band The Llama Kings at home, so I knew roughly what to do. I finished the task pretty fast. I looked at Jordan. She was still working on hers. Should I offer her my help? I didn't want to impose, though. I wondered what else could I do to make her warm up to me. I had a feeling that just sitting next to her wasn't enough to make us besties. Maybe I should do something completely crazy, something out of my comfort zone to dazzle her, so she would want to hang out with the cool me.

My eyes wandered around the classroom. I glanced back at Erica. I remembered the magazine peeking out of her bag and an idea started forming in my head.

I pulled out my phone and uploaded one of my family photos into the editing program. Then I looked up some special pictures on the Internet and uploaded them into the program too. I had to use my phone to get those, because the school Internet had restrictions for such content. I smirked. This was going to be good.

Okay, bitches. You want my brother? I will give him to you in all his glory, alright.

It was done. I admired my creation. This will do. I added few final touches to my masterpiece and pasted it in an email. I selected the option to send it to the whole class. With a mischievous smile I clicked 'send'. This should win me some points with Jordan. What girl doesn't like a nice picture of a cop stripper? Well, me, but only because he's my brother and a jerk.

The first sign of the package having been delivered was a loud gasp from Stacy behind me. I glanced back at her. She was staring at her screen wide-eyed. Then she looked at me and back at her screen. More muffled gasps and giggles sounded around me. You're welcome, I thought. Finally Jordan opened her email too. She blinked and looked at me confused.

"Chris Heffner? Isn't he a relative of yours?"

Duh. Then I realized I was being an idiot. She was clearly new to town and didn't know all the gossip and who's who yet.

"He's my brother," I explained.

"Is this what he does for living? Exposes himself?"

"Hehe. No. He's a cop."

"Oh! Is this what local cops wear as a uniform?"

"No! Although I'm sure female citizens of Newcrest wouldn't mind. I edited the picture. For fun. Okay?"

"I see. You have a very handsome brother, Celeste Heffner. But tell me, why did you do this to him?"

I opened my mouth and closed it again. How could I even begin to explain it to her? I sighed. "Don't you like it?"

"Uhm, I guess. As I said, he is indeed very handsome and well-built. Listen, I'm feeling like I'm missing something. Are you looking for a wife for him? You aren't offering him to me, are you? Showing me his assets first and planning to ask for a hundred of zebus as a dowry later? I'm pretty sure there wasn't anything about such custom being practiced here in the guide I read."

Was she making fun of me all this time? And what on Earth was a zebu? "Geez no! I wouldn't wish him as a husband on any friend of mine! I was only trying to... impress you, I guess," I confessed.

She cocked her eyebrow at me and grinned. "Then I'm glad, because I would have to turn your offer down, as I don't plan to marry any man to bear his children in the foreseeable future. I would hate to offend you and your brother with my rejection. But won't he be mad at you for exposing him like this?"

"Why would he, if he doesn't know? Who would tell him?"

"The teachers might."

"Teachers? I only sent the picture to our classmates."

Jordan paused meaningfully before speaking again. "No, you didn't. You sent it to the whole school."

"I'm certain I did not," I said, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I started getting a sinking feeling. I checked the email recipients again and... she was right. By the wasted garden gnomes! I had misclicked! What idiot doesn't double check before sending a naughty picture? Me apparently. I swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. "So what? Teachers deserve some fun too."

Next thing I was being summoned in the principal's office. That went well.

* * * * *

I got away only with a reprimand and an assignment to write a two page essay about 'family values'. I also had to listen to ode to my brother being an exemplary student (while my sister and her accomplishments remained carefully unmentioned, because it hadn't been decided yet whether she's a criminal or not).

When I exited principal's office, I found Jordan waiting for me outside and that made up for any extols of Chris I had had to listen to.

"Hey. What you are doing here?" I asked barely concealing my joy.

"I thought, since you got into this trouble because of me, sort of, I could at least cheer you up when you're done here. My curiosity has been piqued too. I want to learn more about the family of yours. I didn't want to ask around behind your back, though."

"There's really not much to tell."

"Your ancestor, the Founder sounds like an interesting guy. But I get it, if you don't want to speak about your family. We just met. Wanna still hang out after school? With me and Kenzlee?"

Yes! Of course I want, dammit! "That would be cool."

Andre Savage picked this very moment to talk to me too. I saw him walking toward the bathroom, but when he spotted me, he took a detour. He had this funny way of walking. It was more sauntering than walking. He barely lifted his feet from the floor which caused him to trip often, but he didn't care. He always slouched and his head stuck slightly forward making him look a like a tortoise peeking out of its shell.

"Yo, Cee. That was an interesting email." He said it very matter-of-factly, same way a doctor would tell you a diagnosis. He always talked like that. The only time he showed any excitement was when he spoke about his apps and computers. The way he touched his machines left no doubt that he and them were intimate.

"Hey, Andre. Thanks, I guess."

He scratched his chin. "I figured you probably didn't want to send it to everyone. So I've been thinking. I could write a script or maybe a little program for you. You would have to carry it with you on a flash drive, of course, and plug it into any school computer you'll be working on..."

I had no idea where he was going with it. "Uhm, sure."

"...I could even import sound warnings in it. Yeah, that is perfectly doable. For instance any time you chose 'send to all recipients' again, it would trigger a red alert issued by sir Patrick Stewart himself. No one can say 'all hands battlestations' quite like him, right? Or if you preferred incoming cylon raiders alert from Battlestar Galactica, that would be an option too. The choice is yours. On the other hand you wouldn't want the whole class to hear it as well, I suppose. Hm..."

He went on and on. I looked at Jordan wondering if she had any idea who sir Patrick Stewart was. She returned my look and shrugged and kept wachting Andre with great interest.

"...or I could make the program trigger your screensaver. You misclick again and bam your computer goes to sleep. Just like Data put all Borg to sleep in the episode The Best of Both Worlds II. I could even make it so that the screensaver would show you a picture of Locutus with that cool red beam coming out of his head implant..."

He was beaming too. He was lost in his own world and I didn't have the heart to tell him that I really didn't need any program and warnings, for I had learned my lesson and would never ever make the same stupid mistake again. "That sounds amazing, Andre. Uhm, what about showing me when you have something ready to test? Jordan and I need to go now. We have a class in about five minutes."

Andre returned back to Earth. "Oh. Right. I need to pee anyway." And with that he was gone.

"I think he is into you," Jordan observed.

"Nah. I don't think so. Not unles I get myself a couple of cybernetic implants."

* * * * *

Somehow in all that commotion I forgot to ask Jordan who's Kenzlee. It turned out she's her friend and neighbour. And by the look of it something more as well. No wonder the cop stripper didn't work as I expected.
Chris was still at work when I came home, so I didn't have to ask for permission and could go to the park straight away.

Jordan with Kenzlee were already there. I wasn't overly happy I had to share Jordan's friendship with someone else. It wasn't what I had imagined. Three is not a good number in any relationship. As much as I wanted to dislike Kenzlee though, I couldn't. She was really nice and she and Jordan looked good together.

"Kenz told me your ancestor built this park," Jordan said as I was climbing up the monkey bars where they sat.

"It was her great grandfather, wasn't it, Celeste?" Kenzlee chimed in.

"Yeah."

"Kenz also filled me in on some other stuff concerning your family."

"Commonly known stuff," added Kenzlee.

"Yes, commonly known stuff. I hope you don't mind, Cee."

"Not at all. It will save me some explaining," I said pausing at the top of the monkey bars to study the two of them. I wondered if it was going to be always like this. Kenzlee said this and Kenzlee did that. I liked better the Jordan I met in school. Funny, proud and her own self.

We talked about everything. Our families. How Jordan ended up living in Newcrest with her great aunt, the black sheep of her family. How she and Kenzlee met. And about my brother, the usurper, of course.

"I remember my mom was disappointed when it was announced that there would be no heir vote," Kenzlee said. "She told me the previous vote was almost like the national elections for Newcrest. People discussed it at work, betted on the outcome, papers wrote about all candidates."

"I certainly don't miss that part," I said. "This summer I lost all my respect for reporters."

Your mom had five brothers, right?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder if you would have won."

"We'll never know now, will we?"

"Cee, your brother wronged you. Did he ever try to explain his decision and make it up to you?" Jordan asked.

"Only that he knows best what our mom would have wanted."

"I don't know. I always thought he was a nice guy, helping everyone," Kenzlee said.

"Oh yeah, he's being nice to everyone but me. You don't know what he's like. You don't have to live with him. He's a damn dictator at home. But as soon as he's out the door, he's acts like he's the next Mother Teresa. Got the savior complex or something."

Talking about Chris only got me upset. Jordan noticed and tried to cheer me up. "Hey, maybe we should call him Mother Christina. You can make another edit and put a cassock on him next time."

I laughed. "I totes should." I shook my head amused. Mother Christina. Oh gosh, it fits so perfectly.

I'll tell you, what I'm gonna do, guys. The minute my eighteenth birthday hits, I'm outa this hell hole. Christina won't have a clue, cause bitch can't even remember when my birthday is. And if he tries to stop me, I'll tell him 'FU' and he won't see me again. Ever."

"Where will you go?" Kenzlee asked.

I shrugged. "Some place where no one knows my family. Big city. San Em most likely."

* * * * *

As the afternoon drew on we talked about less serious stuff. School and other students. Our favourite bands, movies and books. What places we wanted to see one day. I hadn't had so much fun since I don't know when. It was so liberating to be able to talk about everything. Not to feel so isolated.

I looked at my phone and grimaced. It was getting late. I hadn't left any message to Chris where I had gone. Not that I thought he would be genuinely worried about me. But if I wanted to avoid a Chrissy fit, I had to go.

"Sorry, guys, I must be going," I said and jumped down from the monkey bars.

Jordan looked disappointed. "So early?" she said and it warmed my heart that she's been enjoying my company as much as I have been enjoying hers.

"I would stay longer, if I could, but then Christina would launch a nationwide search. He wants me home before dark no matter what."

"Oh. See you tomorrow at school then?"

"Tomorrow."

It was just a single word, but unlike before, it held a promise now.

Chapter 4.26

Chapter 4.28

New characters were introduced in this chapter (more may appear later). And while I had lots of fun turning them into bitches and weirdos, I can't take the credit for their creation.

Connie Schaffer

Donated by Haswh.
With such face she couldn't not become one of the prima donnas. That she has an eating disorder was something she revealed to me during writing.

Erica Bradley

Donated by Jes2G.
A sim Jes2G had big plans for until she didn't.

Jordan Tawedzwegwa

Donated by Marialein who is also responsible for creation of the Nightshade family, Alex Dark and other sims I use. She always treated me with beautiful sims. Thank you so much, girl!
Originally Jordan was her surname, but I liked it better for her first name. Besides, I wanted to give her a crazy long second name anyway. And as if things weren't complicated enough, Tawedzwegwa is actually a first name in Malagasy. So her name should be Tawedzwegwa Jordan. But hey, this is my story, I can do whatever I want with names.

Kenzlee Bogle

Donated by Skcaga6.
After a makeover her creator may not recognize her anymore...

Stacey Gothurd

Kindly donated by Bugsie2016
"I picked a sim for you I liked the least," Bugsie told me when she sent me Stacey.
There you have it. Some people get the cutest and most loved sims, I get the ones nobody likes or needs anymore. As if I didn't treat them well and make their lives interesting. It's not like I had sims die or experimented on in my story or something.

Andre Savage

Donated by Trip.
If you think me turning him into a computer geek was completely random, think again.

Fernandez Gonzales

Borrowed from Candycottonchu and her story Neighbourhood Talk.
He's the son of Alejandro Gonzales, a guitarist of the band Deep Rift - the very man who had mastered the talent of impregnation and quick escape from ladies' bedrooms.

Nick Terrell

Created by Cayrees. I saw him in the gallery and had to have him. He just has the perfect face of a high school heartbreaker. There must be one in every high school. Everbody knows that!

Oh and Celeste seems to have something to tell you. You better listen.