A/N: Okay seriously guys, I'm like on a writing frenzy with this story lately... and I really shouldn't. I got homework for pete's sake. Someone has to stop me. ;P

Oh well... what's the worst thing that can happen? I fail? Yeah that doesn't sound good.

So you better comment and vote! ;P

Anyway ENJOY GUYS! :D

Ps: ashleyy_ pointed out the fact, in Blake's POV excerpt, that he might have some underlying issue... which is right... mouhahahaha... Any guesses? XP

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So I had no freaking clue how he managed to do this, but it was like ten PM and Blake was still at our house, watching a re-run, yes a re-run, of a football game with my dad, Ty and me.

"Come on! Run! For Christ sake! I've never seen a defense more suckish then that! RUN!"

"Is she always like that when she watches football?" Blake asked behind me, but I ignored him.

"Jeez! Why didn't you listen?" I yelled at the TV when the running back got tackled, letting myself fall back on the floor while Ty was throwing popcorn at the screen.

"YOU SUCK!" he screamed at the running back.

"Yes. It gets worse during the play-offs," my father answered, but I ignored him too.

"You know they win that game right?" Blake informed me, chuckling, and I threw a cushion in his face for that.

"Yes Mister Know-It-All, I am well informed of it, but I still think my tactic advice always helps them win in the end," I answered to Blake absentmindedly.

"Good thing you aren't a cheerleader at school, otherwise you'd give the coach a heart-attack with all your screaming."

"Don't you have somewhere to be? A party to attend? Alcohol to drink? Girl to fuck?"

"We don't say fuck in the living room Lexi," my father said at the same time Ty screamed, "YOU FUCKING WUSS! KNOCK THE SHIT OUT OF HIM!"

"Actually, no. I'm pretty comfortable here," Blake answered and leaned more comfortably into the couch.

"Suit yourself," I mumbled and then, "NO! LEFT! GO LEFT! WATCH YOUR RIGHT!"

"I never would have guessed your Friday nights consisted of watching football re-runs, screaming at the screen like a lunatic." Blake informed me, and just by his tone I knew he was smirking.

I wanted to answer "Go fuck yourself," but technically I wasn't supposed to use that word in the living room.

Bullshit!

"What do you want me to say? I retired from the wet t-shirt industry. Got too many rashes," I told him.

"So that means I should probably send the Lamborghini to the cleaner?" Blake asked.

"You're the one with the Lamborghini?" dad exclaimed.

"Yes, well, technically, it's my dad's."

"Some guy at school, huh?" my father mumbled.

I rolled my eyes, but he probably didn't see me.

Great! Just great.

"That car's a beauty," my father finally said, thoughtfully.

Oh here we go...

"I know. There's just something about the Murciélago LP 640 body frame... I mean there's the Roadster version but I'm not a fan of convertible and there's the new version, the LP 670-4 SV but I think the spoiler stays up so in my mind it'll just slow it down. You can't even compare it to the Gallardo. And of course, it's got 12 cylinders and the top speed's 340 km and you hit 0 to 100 in 3,4 seconds. It,s got 6 speeds plus reverse, everything's electronic. Sure, it has an awful millage per gallons but I'm not complaining. I love that car," Blake explained, and while he talked about the car, I think I saw something that actually, almost looked like a smile, and not a smirk, on his lips, but that was just for one millisecond, and it disappeared as fast as it came.

"But you don't give a shit about the Earth right," I told him, frowning.

"What?"

"Global warming, you dimwit," I explained.

"You know technically, some scientists say that global warming is all a natural thing," Blake said with a smirk I would have gladly punched off his face.

"Yeah and Santa Claus will put coal in your stocking this year because you've been a very naughty boy," I said rolling my eyes.

"Oh you have no idea," Blake teased. "But that's not the point here. IPCC says that there's global warming, so everyone has to say so. The UNO actually said that to stop global warming people had to stop having baby. That's ridiculous."

Huh? What...?

That was when the phone conveniently rang.

"I'll get it," my father finally said when no one was getting up.

"You know what, your scientists are ridiculous," I finally exclaimed.

Blake wasn't fazed. "There's a professor who actually had temperatures taken from the atmosphere with satellites and they only registered a slight augmentation of the temperature, seriously like barely nothing."

Was I really having this conversation? Was he messing with me? "That's it. I'm not helping someone as stupid as you. No way I'll be able to make you understand irrational things when you can't even accept facts and prefer to listen to lies."

"You're so stubborn," Blake said, shaking his head slightly. "Remind me to bring my camera. I want to tape it when you'll run in the school halls naked. You better not forget about spinach!"

"Confused little brother says what?" Ty cut in, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes Heather, just a second," my father interrupted, the phone against his ear while he got back in the living room.

Oh crap!

"Tyler, your mother wants to speak with you," he said

"Well ain't that nice," Tyler answered and fixed his eyes on the TV.

"Tyler!"

"I want Resident Evil 5, Madden NFL 10, Killzone 2, and then I might consider speaking with you again..." Ty trailed in the phone, while leaving the room.

"You're an idiot Blake," I stated, matter of factly.

"Why? Because I don't follow the majority? Because I don't believe in IPCC's reign of terror?"

"What the hell does I-see-peepee even means?" I groaned.

"IPCC," Blake said shaking his head, amused. "It stands for Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change."

I threw my arms up in the air. "And how the hell do you even know about that?"

With his smug smile he replied, "Seen a documentary on it."

"Oh, and that makes it true? I've seen a documentary on 2012 does THAT make it true?" I asked in disbelief.

"But 2012 is true!" Blake exclaimed.

"What!?"

"Of course, the Maya predicted it! The guys knew what they were talking about."

Was he seriously shitting with me right now?

I didn't even know what to answer to that. I just stared at him dumbfounded.

Fortunately, that's when Tyler walked back in the living room, his hand over the mouth of the phone. "Lexi. Mom wants to speak with you."

I made dramatic choking sounds, my hands around my throat.

"I'm sorry, she can't come to the phone right. She's barricaded herself in her room with some weird guy. I think she's fighting with him. Whatever they're doing seems to be pretty strenuous. Wait. Did she scream help me? OH! Sorry, my bad, she screamed fuck me," Tyler told our mother with a stupid grin on his face. And he pretty much backed the phone away from his ear the second he finished speaking and I could hear her shouting.

Great, just great!

I opened my palm in front of me, but Ty threw the phone and I almost dropped it on the floor.

"You know well raised people don't shout," I said in the phone, leaving the living room, and walking towards the kitchen to sit at the counter.

"Lexi Grayson! Were you having sex?" my mother yelled.

Dear god.

"Yeah, I was having rough sex with my imaginary kinky transsexual friend, Bob. He just rocks my world. And later, Felicity the Dark Priestess of the Night will creep into my room and we'll try to link with the Dark World to see what her boyfriend the Vampire Prince is up to. I might shag one of his guards on the way. Oh by the way, she told me that the dark Shadows were coming so that's probably bad news for you, right? Maybe you should move out of town, or country, though that might not be the best idea. Did you know that in some countries they stone people who commit adultery?"

"I'm pretty positive that in those countries they also demand you respect your parents," my mother answered, deadpan.

"Ah, but technically you'd be stone to death so therefore I couldn't really respect you anymore, you know, because you'd be dead." A little harsh yes, but when did I ever censure myself?

"Lexi look, I know I hurt you, but me leaving had nothing to do with you. Nothing. That's what scared me the most when I left. I was scared this is exactly what would happen, and you would turn your back on me," she trailed.

She thought this would calm me down, but it had the opposite effect. "Oh so you weren't scared about dad, you know, breaking his heart, making him consider suicide? That never crossed your mind?"

"Lexi, please..."

There was no stopping me at this point, I was on a roll. A pissed off roll. "Did you know I hid anything I found that he could use to hurt himself the first weeks? He couldn't find any steak knives, or rope, even his envelop opener. I even thought about taking his shoelaces. Seriously, I all but wrapped him in plastic bubbles!"

"Lexi, please. You know how your father is. I couldn't live like that anymore."

Wrong answer. "Oh please. You were banging a younger guy, that's why you left," I replied sharply.

"Lexi, listen. Your dad and I, it didn't work anymore. You know how it is. He comes back from work at seven, and then when he gets home, he expected me to have dinner for him, and then he watches TV or goes out with his friends, and I just couldn't live like that, with my work, and having to take care of the house on my own, my husband never there," she explained.

"Seriously? Mom! You were the one always complaining that he depended too much on you. Set your mind straight! You want him around or you don't."

"It's not that simple Lexi."

"Oh would you just shut up," I yelled and I was even surprised myself, but I kept on going. Pissed-off-roll. "I'm tired, tired of your lies! Just once, for once be honest with dad. Be honest with us, be honest with you and live with the consequences of your action for Christ's sake! Did you know your sister called and I was the one who told her you had left? I'm sick of it. Sick of being the one who has to explain why the frack my mother left when everything seemed fine before, why my mother decided to leave, when I don't even know it!" Tears were slowly running down my cheeks as I yelled those words but I brushed them away furiously. "You know what?" I added. "I'm done. Done. I'm done crying for you. I'm done wondering what I did wrong, what we did wrong. I'm done asking myself what I could have done, what I didn't do, how you could have left us. I'm just done." I told her. I had wasted enough energy on this whole disaster.

"Lexi please. Listen to me," my mother said again in her sweet voice, the one she always used when I would run in her room at night after a nightmare.

I didn't listen though. Instead I just told her, "Goodbye Heather," not even calling her my mom and hung up the phone.

After that I punched my fist on the hard counter, and then grabbed the edge of it, leaning my head between my arms, breathing slowly in and out, to steady myself.

Breathe Lexi, breathe.

"Is everything alright?" a voice asked me.

I raised my head and saw Blake, holding the empty bowl of popcorn in his hands, looking at me with what felt like concern eyes.

"Just peachy," I answered, and after taking another deep breath, blastered a fake smile on my face.

Blake rolled his eyes.

"So, what's up?" I asked him, because he didn't seem to move from his spot and I wanted to think about something else, anything else.

"Your brother told me and I quote Be useful, douchebag and go get me more popcorn." Blake told me, his eyes narrowing.

"And you listened?" I asked, weakly laughing.

"I'm actually thinking about a way to humiliate him at school for that" Blake answered thoughtful.

"I have no doubt you'll come up with something!" I told him, and took a popcorn bag out of the cupboard and after taking the plastic wrapping around it, placed it in the microwave.

I took another big glass of Pepsi and then, sat on the counter waiting for the popcorn, sipping my Pepsi, holding my straw.

"Wanna talk about it?" Blake suddenly asked, sitting beside me on the counter.

"About what? The fact that my mother is a lying bitch or that the St-Louis Rams have no chance in hell of winning the Super Bowl this year? Or ever, really."

"Actually I was thinking about my hotness but whatever makes you happy SweetPeach," Blake said and smirked.

I rolled my eyes and kept sipping on my Pepsi, swinging my legs against the counter as my mind wandered.

Would my mother call again? Was it over, really over? Sure, I would never stop being her daughter, but being her daughter didn't necessarily mean that we were communicating. Would our relation be strictly blood related now?

I knew I had been harsh with her, but what was I supposed to do? I was a teenager for Christ sakes! That just doomed me to overreact and throw tantrum, right? What did she expect? That I would just forget about what she did and just act as if nothing had happened? She knew how unforgiving I was. And what about my dad in all of this, because even if I felt like she had abandoned me, my father felt like that a million times more.

Gosh, all I wanted was to go back in time. I wanted to be just a kid again in my red pocadot bikini on the beach in Florida, digging up holes in the sands big enough to fit with Ty and then beat Anna in the holding breath under water contest.

I wanted to go back to Hawaii, trying to surf and having Ty's board hit me in the back of the head, then trying to drown him for that, and having mom ground me, telling me I couldn't go to the fire with other kids that night. And then I would ask dad and he would say yes.

I raised my eyes to the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"You won't always be sad you know, one day you'll wake up, and everything will feel normal, even though it's not, but you'll realize you can go through your day, without thinking about it..." Blake whispered beside me, almost like he was talking to himself.

"Talking from experience?" I asked him, one eyebrow raised.

"Naw, I saw a documentary on it," Blake said and half smiled.

I snorted at the same time the microwave beeped.

"So when are you leaving anyway? I hope you aren't planning on having a sleepover because forget about it, I'm not braiding your hair and talking about the hot guy you have a crush on," I informed Blake as I transferred the popcorn from the bag and into the bowl.

"Dang it! And here I had brought that new nail polish and all my magazines filled with hot metro sexual wusses," Blake said snapping his fingers and shaking his head in fake disappointment. Idiot.

Unfortunately, I couldn't make any snarky remarks about that comment because that's when Tyler walked into the kitchen and asked, "Where's my popcorn?"

"Right here!" I answered, raising the bowl in front of me.

"So how's the game doing?" Blake asked, jumping off the counter and taking a handful of popcorn.

"Brian Urlacher's on steroids," Ty simply answered, taking a handful too.

"What?" Blake frowned.

"Here we go again..." I mumbled and set the bowl on the counter, rolling my eyes and sitting on a stool. This could take a while

"I'm telling you man, Brian Urlacher and steroids are like Batman and Robin. Won't come across one without the other."

"What are you talking about?" Blake asked confused.

"Ty's trying to convince everybody that Brian Urlacher's on steroids," I answered and shook my head slightly. The things that entertained my brother... At least he wasn't betting on it with my dad.

"It's not trying to convince." He made quotations marks in the air. "It's the simple truth. I'm telling you, I have my source," Ty said and he honestly looked convincing.

"Well, I mean the guy does have a big neck..." Blake trailed off.

"Not you too," I groaned.

"TOUCHDOWN!" my father yelled in the living room before anyone could say anything else.

"Damn it," Ty cursed and ran back in the living room, almost knocking the popcorn bowl on the floor.

"What amazes me the most is the fact that he's already seen that game," Blake said laughing.

"My little brother is a special lil' creature," I answered. "So, again, when are you leaving?"

"Well, I have been harass with text messages from random people ever since I got here but I'm not planning on to attend any of the parties, after all Alex said he didn't want to see us hungover tomorrow," Blake explained.

"Define harass?" I asked.

Blake grinned and got his iPhone out of his pocket, tapped quickly on the screen and then showed it to me. There was like an infinite list of text messages, most of them unread, as he scrolled down on the screen, and just very little lapse of time between every one of them.

"That's my personal favourite," Blake said, and while he showed me the screen I wonder when he had taken the time to look at them. I didn't even remember him taking his phone out. The text message read, " BLAskKkkEr WhghErrE Ar," and it stopped like that.

"My guess; he passed out before finishing it," Blake chuckled.

"Who's that?" There wasn't a name to this contact. Just the poop emoji and a male face emoji. Shitface? Shithead?

"Clark," Blake answered with a smirk. It was nice to know that even one of his friends considered him a total tool.

It was also kind of a good news, the fact that Clark couldn't even write a text properly. "Good! He probably won't come tomorrow then," I pointed out. I didn't particularly want to see Clark after the soda incident. He would probably try to get revenge.

"Don't underestimate his drunk guy powers. If Clark played football as well as he partied we'd probably be pumped up a division," he answered.

"GUYS! You're missing everything," Ty yelled in the living room. "BRING THE POPCORN!"

I rolled my eyes and walked back in the living room, dropping the conversation. What was the point in worrying about Clark. I'd find out tomorrow.

We all watched the entire game, and close to the end even Blake started to shout at the screen.

Oh well, we were bad influence, so what?

Blake left well after eleven and then I went back to my room, to continue my drawing but for some reason I didn't feel like working on the weird eyes anymore. I wanted to draw a beach...

But before I could do that, I plugged my phone to recharge it and then saw like fifteen unread text message, all from Vanessa going all in the line of "Your brother is a dick and I don't ever want to speak to him again."

As I was about to shout to Ty what the hell was his problem, he yelled "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PS3!?"

Haha!

He burst into my room, five seconds later.

"Where'd you put it?"