01
CHAPTER 1: Calm Before the Storm
I grin down at Celeste as she slides the small note with a taunt into the red string I tied to the helium balloon, Amelia next to us, hiding her snicker as grinning eyes meet my silver ones, “On three.” She whispers. The hallway of our floor was lit up by the mid-day sun on a Sunday. Mom and Dad were still out on one of Mom’s business trips to New York...meaning we were free to do as we please. Amelia tucks a straight strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Mouthing the countdown as I make sure the weight of the balloon is measured properly as us three girls to the five boys we regret to call our siblings the shock of their lives in exactly five minutes.
I aim the red balloon into Desmond’s room, having opened his door and look inside, he’s shirtless and almost completely fallen off his sports car designed mattress, I float the balloon straight towards the bed and close the door. We aimed each balloon at our brothers beds.
Amelia and Celeste freeze, “What are you girls doing?” We hear behind us.
I recognised my Dad’s voice easily.
I turn slowly to meet his matching eyes, before seeing Mom looking at each of us slowly, scrutinising us as Celeste looks to the right, Amelia plays with her blonde strands and looks to the left. I blink, “You’re back early?” I say, slowly.
Dad raises an eyebrow, his towering six foot four form would scare anyone shitless, yet it was Mom who slanted the fear of the devil himself when she folds her arms, Dad slides an arm behind her back as Amelia looks to me and shows me the phone screen of the videos of each of our brothers waking up slowly and all of a sudden...
“AH!” Kahn.
“HOLY FUCKING SHIT BALLS!” Alexander.
“SON OF A BITCH!” William.
“FUCK!” Desmond.
“IT’S PENNYWISE! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Dean.
Celeste blinks as Mom’s eyes widen, Dad gives me a pointed look. I’m the mischievous one, sure—point the blame on me. Desmond runs out of the room next to us as if his pants are on fire and suddenly skids to a stop, all other doors slam open as Dean crashes into Alexander, toppling over William and all three of them go down with our youngest who’s holding the innocent red helium balloon in his little grip with a petrified maid behind him, behind little Kahn. Our youngest of five.
Desmond snaps his silver eyes to me, he points a threatening finger my way, “You little—”
“Who wants pop-pop-popcorn?”
I face palm at the giant eight feet PENNYWISE IT clown I bought online behind all of us. All of them start screaming in astonished shock as Mom and Dad look up at IT, right when all my brothers sprint down the stairs in a heap of masculine chests, bare feet, grunts and not-so-masculine screams. So, the inflated Pennywise clown can remotely talk to, thanks to one of my hidden inventions when I tampered with one of Mom’s voice-over devices that I planted in the clowns mouth when we got the movers to bring it up the first flight of stairs.
I purse my lips as Dad turns his stern eyes to me, “You did not seriously purchase a large clown while we’re gone for three days on a business trip, Adeline Cecilia Creed?” He says, lowly as Mom just stares at it with an amused look on her face.
Amelia rolls her lips in, “To be fair, Dad. This is Desmond’s fault.”
He scrutinises me, “How is this Desmond’s fault, Amelia?” He asks her, tilting his head at me.
I fold my arms, “Because he started this and we knew how to finish it.” I tell him, being blatantly honest as he trails his silver eyes to the creepy large inflated clown, he closes his eyes in defeat.
Mom points to the three of us, “And you bought red helium balloons. Was this inspired by the book or the movie?” Mom wonders, Dad gives her a raised eyebrow. She purses her lips to hide her devious smile, I grin widely, she approved.
Dad snaps his eyes between eyes, “Oy, no female telepathic nonsense right now. You three girls are grounded.” He says between us before he spoke to both Mom and I, specifically. I give him a deflated look as Celeste folds her arms, Amelia steps forward.
“That’s not fair, Dad. Desmond put hair removal in my favourite conditioner, Alexander threw Celeste’s Gucci travel case in the lake. William shaved one side of Meira’s fur off and Dean tried to set Adeline’s cat on fire and Kahn went skinny dipping in the lake!” That was true, something I’m still pissed off about.
Meira trudges past all of us, revealing the spot on her back that was shaved, Mom does a double take when I see my pitch black tabby holding one of Alexander’s goldfish in her mouth. I smirk at that, fair is fair at this point.
Mom snaps her head back to us, “Kahn did what?” She screeches, turning towards the gobsmacked maid.
Who sputters forward, “Please, Miss. I even had the guards try to catch him, but your sons set traps for them too. Rodgers is still trying to help Benson out of the hole Alexander and William dug near the rose bushes.” She stutters, just as Mom pats her hand and they both move downstairs.
Dad turns back to the three of us, “Three days, girls. Not even three days. Adeline, I put you in charge to give you responsibility. You bought a clown to scare your brothers.” He’s definitely shocked.
I blink, “They were watching the film last night. This was payback for trying to set Scarlett on fire, Desmond was there with Dean and I have it on the estates back-up drives after Desmond tried to delete it from the control room downstairs.” I tell him.
He runs his fingers down his face, “Amelia and Celeste, neither of you are grounded, but Adeline, you are, for three days because of the clown. Now, all of you, downstairs. It’s time for lunch.” He says, gesturing downstairs.
I fold my arms as Amelia and Celeste move past him, “This is unfair.” I say to Dad, just as Desmond’s balloon floats between us and Dad flinches before giving me a dark stare when I start laughing, before popping the balloon with one of my hair pins.
He looks at the mess it makes, “I’ll admit, it’s genius, but still not tolerated, little lemon.” Dad whispers, I smile, wrapping my arm around his back and giving him a sympathetic pay on his shoulder, he ruffles my hair, pulling me into an embrace as we walk downstairs.
Desmond glares at me from where he gulps on his juice on the kitchen counter, Dad ruffles my hair, letting me go as he turns to Mom, who’s holding Kahn on her hip, trying to get him to drink the berry smoothie she had just made. Dad curls both of them into his chest, “It’s healthy, Kahn.” He tells him.
Kahn scrunches his nose, his blonde hair and silver eyes standing on edge as he gives the glass a disturbed look, taking one sip and gagging, “Gross.” He says, darkly. A whack echoes against the back of my head and I growl at Desmond, lowly. Amelia takes his spot on the counter as I kick his shin for good measure.
Dean comes galloping in as he sits on Sammy’s back, “Hurry, Sammy!” He calls out, sprinting through the kitchen as one of the other maids come running through in a swift manner.
“Mom, how was the trip?” Alexander asks, bitting into his toast with marmalade on top, smeared over at least three times, he was addicted to the stuff while everyone else hated it. I step towards the cabinet and pour myself a cup of tea with the newly boiled kettle.
Desmond glares at me from where he shoves in next to me, “You’ll pay for that.” He spits in irritation.
I scoff, “You screamed like a little girl, prissy buffoon. Shows how easy it is to enhance your fears.” I tell him, rudely as I sip on my hot drink and lean it away when he goes to hit it and spill it all over my shirt, he fails when I knock his wrist quickly.
Celeste pokes her tongue out at William who glares at her darkly, knowing she did his room with the balloon, “I did not, you’re the one who made the bet when I pushed your weak self into the lake on Friday!” He snickers, as if to make up for the fact he really was scared before Mom and Dad secretly got home early.
“I’m not weak!” I spit at him.
“Enough!” Dad snaps from where he stands behind us.
Desmond grumbles under his breath, turning to Dad, who holds up something.
Desmond pales, “How did you get that?” He whispers, in shock.
Dad turns over the piece of paper, “Question number one, what interest do you have in a potential football career? You wrote, the fuck do I know, Dad’s making me do this bullshit.” He says, I choke on my tea when I hear that. Mom takes everyone else into the dining room, giving Dad a surfacing glare as he scrutinises Desmond. Who knocks his elbow into my side.
“Next question, between academics and physical decathlon curriculums, what is the best, most strategic set of time managing properties that will aid in your success of both districts? You wrote, decathlon’s are only academically involved for nerds and guys who can’t get girls, arseholes, physical curriculums such as football, and basketball is as easy as getting Lily Swanson to twerk on the principals desk...oh, and here’s a picture for visuals.” He snaps at Desmond, showing him the picture. My jaw drops in shock at the picture he drew.
Dad continues, “In the scenario where a football player loses his or her chances in continuing with their career in this sport due to physical injury or mental stability, what would be the first four most supportive sets of advice should be used to uplift your players? You wrote, one: quit while you still can, two: tell yourself you suck at this, three: don’t listen to your parents if they are your main influence, four: go get laid because this is apparently uplifting too.” He snaps.
I buckle down in laughter as Desmond pales. I grab the piece of paper from Dad and start taking photos. Dad growls at Desmond lowly, “You gave this in to your coach, Desmond. Why?” He snaps at him, scolding.
“For one, he’s a sexist prick, Dad.” Desmond squeaks.
“Is he interested in you?” I ask Desmond.
He snaps his silver eyes to me, “Fuck off, Adeline.” He growls.
Dad claps his hands once, “I told the both of you, stop fighting. Adeline, give your brother and I a moment.” He says, still staring Desmond down, even as Desmond almost reaches Dad’s height at the age of almost sixteen.
I step away, just as Dad says to Desmond, “What is going on? This isn’t like you, Desmond, not like you at all. This kind of behaviour has your Mother and I worried, something is going on and I want to know what.” He says to Desmond, I slide to the wall and behind it, facing the stairs as I listen in, closely.
“Nothing. Nothing is going on, it was just a joke, alright!” Desmond whisper-yells, grabbing the sheet of paper and throwing it in the bin.
Dad stares at him, “No, this is not alright. You are good at football. What’s the problem?” He asks again, more sternly this time.
“I said, it’s nothing. Just drop it. I can’t even talk to you about this.” He spits in irritation.
“What about to your mother? Do you want me to talk to her about this?” Dad threatens.
Desmond locks his jaw and folds his arms, before the atmosphere quiets when Mom’s heels click against the tiles, “Both of you, take a step back and a deep breath. Love, can you please go check on William and Alexander, they haven’t done their homework yet and it’s due tonight? I’ll talk to Desmond.” She says to each of them, before talking to Dad directly. He sighs and steps away from Desmond, shaking his head roughly, he gives Mom a kiss on her temple, running his nose up the midline of her forehead before moving to the dining.
I furrow my eyebrows, watching—still behind the wall—“Desmond.” She says his name just once and he confesses everything.
“I only did it because Dad doesn’t understand, I don’t want to be a football player or a sports analyst, I can work hard enough for the oil manufacturing company, but he wants to see if Adeline wants it first because she’s first-born, but Adeline is too dense to see that she sucks at business.” He spits in annoyance. I lock in a dark feeling that rises in my chest, I didn’t suck at business, I just wasn’t sure whether I was interested in Mom’s or Dad’s businesses. Desmond was being a prick saying this, stating where his anger was buried first.
A vibration shoots through my back jeans pocket, Olsen waiting for me in his Aston Martin down the road. I inwardly groan in irritation, bounding up the stairs and hurriedly changing my shoes, fixing my hair and applying lip gloss as I grab my purse and card, stepping out through my window. I land on the side garage roof, dodging Mom’s outside roses that Dad planted for her last week and land swiftly on the stone pathway. Using my grey trench coat to save my my pale skin from the cold, I sprint towards the sleek blue Aston Martin down the road.
I open the passenger side, “You won’t believe this.” Is the first thing I say to him.
He smirks, putting the car into ignition and accelerating down the path, “How did the prank go?” He asks me, speeding down the street as I fix my seatbelt on, swishing out the transparent rain drops in my hair, liking the cold feeling that runs down my scalp as he hands me a hot chocolate, taking a sip of his own as he drives.
I grin, “Deviously well. The clown was a nice touch.” I say to him.
He grins, “I wish I would have been there. You know we’ve got the first term starting tomorrow, want to hear some rumours?” He asks me, parking swiftly in front of the grand Kingston mall, which was packed but when I step out of the car, I do notice a set of sleek black challengers in the corner, one that I specifically knew...Jeremiah was back.
Olsen nods, grabbing my hand in his, “He’s back, and he has a whole other group of freaks with him.” He gestures to the amount of six or so challengers surrounding the cars. I raise an eyebrow, acting nonchalant as he intertwines our fingers and pulls me out of the rain.
I look around the Chanel casings, “Maybe I should get another coat.” I suggest, looking towards it.
He gives me a raised eyebrow, “You sure? Because any one of the new products could be something I’ve already bought for you for tomorrow.” He says, cryptically.
I grin, holding in a squeal as I jump next to him, “You got me a new coat?” He smirks wildly and pulls me into his chest, leading me away from the store and upstairs to the main lunch arena, he stands facing me with wiggly eyebrows.
“Maybe.” He whispers.
I grab his chin, “No maybes, you know I hate surprises. Is it a coat?” I ask him, swiftly. He keeps an arm around my waist as he leads me off the escalator and steps forward, his own long beige coat off the new men’s brand, Scorpio, swishing behind him.
“I don’t give up that easily.” He notes beside me. I roll my eyes, pecking his shaven cheek as he turns towards one of the new sports shoe stores on the line in front of the smoothie fruity and organic drinks outlet.
He slides towards the latest football shoe design. I give it a bland look while he scans it slowly, before turning to me, “...you like?” He asks me, wiggling his eyebrows. I take a sip of my hot chocolate.
“It’s such a turn on.” I tell him, giving him my flat look now.
He sighs, “C’mon, I need a new pair and your advice. Besides, we’re going against Hilton next week, I need to look good.” He says to me, taking a seat to try on the shoe.
I sigh in defeat, looking around, “I’m sorry, sir, but there is no discount on the shoes.” I hear from the counter, choosing to ignore it, I step towards the boots of a few thousand, just looking when I hear a rough feminine voice begin to argue.
“Listen here, you witch. They’re five hundred dollars for the kind of shoes that you can get at Walmart. Your sale says this pair is seventy percent off and the sale obviously advertised is not for show. We’re telling you that the price is three-hundred and fifty with the discount and it’s required for the school uniform, he’s shown you his ID!” I hear someone snap at the staff member.
Seeing that it’s gaining the eyes of many, I turn and freeze at what I see.
He looked different.
Well over six foot. Broad shouldered, wide-stances with a black leather jacket over a tattered white shirt and torn jeans, holding a pair of the Kingston’s school shoes, which were part of the uniform was Jeremiah Lawson. Strong pale jawline, sharp green eyes and short strands of raven black hair on his head, with four individuals around him, including the auburn haired one, in her red leather jacket, growling at the staff member. Who looks stern.
He was trying to purchase a pair of school shoes.
That’s it.
Only with them on sale.
Without thinking, I move towards the side, “Tabitha, just put it on my tab.” I say to the staff member. I don’t look in his direction, but I can tell he stills in his form and stiffens, pulling the pair of shoes off the counter in a hurry as he subtly hides it behind his leather jacket.
Tabitha turns to me, visibly sighing in defeat when I give her a raised eyebrow. She nods, logging it in, before stepping away to help another customer, “I’ll pay you back.” His voice was deeper now too, making me still in my form. I flick my eyes towards green ones that looked different now, his surprise was hidden by a practiced mask as he snaps his entire form towards me, the three males and auburn-haired female surrounding him give me indecipherable looks, before a pair of lips flutter against my cheek.
Olsen’s arm rounds behind my waist, “There you are,” He says down to me, before turning to face Jeremiah, who only stares indecipherably down to me from the other side of the counter, “—oh, Jeremiah. I didn’t know you were back in London, and with a new flock.” He says, with a smirk.
I turn towards him, “Quite the cliché jock.” Auburn-hair spits, folding her arms.
Olsen scoffs, turning back to me, “I saw you looking at the Gucci boots, do you want a pair? My treat.” He offers, nudging his head to the boots behind me, his other arm slides to circle my hip, pulling me against his warm chest.
I grin, “I already have that pair, and besides, I’m famished. You promised me lunch.” I tell him, he grins before gesturing to the shoes that were about a thousand, pecking my forehead.
“Let me just get these first, then sushi awaits my lady.” He murmurs, moving around me to pay for the shoes.
I turn towards the auburn-haired girl and give her a wink, her blue eyes widen, “He really is a cliché jock, isn’t he?” I giggle, leaning my elbows against the counter, “I’m Adeline.” I introduce myself.
She blinks, one of the males behind her smirks, “Oh, we know. Head elite member at Kingston Academy, thought you’d be taller, beautiful?” He questions, Jeremiah gives him a dark look, turning his green eyes back to me.
“You look....good.” He says to me, gesturing to me twenty seconds after he spoke those words.
I shrug, “Thanks, you look rough around the edges.” I say, truthfully.
He gives me a stoically deadpanned look, “I’ll take that as a bittersweet compliment. I promise to pay back for the shoes when I can.” He says in stoic gratitude, still sounding rough, deep and cautious. He even looks like a body builder...so damn handsome. In a rugged, dark way.
I wave him off, “Don’t worry about it, the service here is so disappointing.” I tell them.
Olsen slides back in next to me, arm around my shoulder, “Ready to go?” He asks me, only staring his brown eyes down to me.
I roll mine, turning to Jeremiah’s group with a smile, “It was lovely getting to know you, will we be seeing you at school tomorrow?” I wonder, making clean conversation while Olsen curls his finger around one of my silk brownish black curls, I’d dyed in light brown highlights at the edges of my shoulder length hair. Jeremiah seems to be looking at the masculine hand on my shoulder as I turn to the other four surrounding him. The three males scrutinise Olsen, while the auburn-haired one folds her arms and smiles.
“Yes, we just moved from Germany. Do you think you could give the group a tour? There’s four more of us at the food courts, maybe you two could join us?” She offers, Jeremiah blinks as the three boys behind Jeremiah smirk and pay his shoulders quickly, nudging the side of his head with a fist, teasingly as he clenches his jaw, staring at me.
Olsen scoffs, “We wouldn’t be caught dead sitting with the freak over here.” He says, pointing to Jeremiah, who stills and stiffens.
I give Olsen a side glance, “Who’s the little bitch holding onto your girl?” We hear behind us. I furrow my eyebrows, before both Olsen and I turn to the massive six foot eight giant on a leather jacket, holding a blonde to his side as two other males scrutinise me from behind him.
Olsen rips a scowl, “What the fuck did you just call me?” He spits.
“A little bitch who’s holding so tightly on a girl who doesn’t belong to him.” The six foot eight giant male says, a voice deeper than imaginable. I tilt my head with wide-eyes at the sight of him.
Olsen turns to me, “Can we go now?” He asks me, ignoring the eyes of both of them.
I blink twice, “Sure,” I say, looking at the male who’s taller and wider than any other male I’ve seen, “I swear, you could use them on the football team, Olsen. He’s massive.” I blurt out, gesturing to the amused giant who turns to me.
Olsen’s eye twitches, “Adeline, the team is full.” He says to me, stepping closer.
I point at the giant, “I’m telling you, he could slice through Hilton without a blink. Your team would win by more points than dreamt about, Olsen. How easy do you think it would be to end a game in less than an hour with guys the size of him. Hilton will urinate themselves if they see these guys on the field. This would benefit the team so much, I’m telling you.” I pat his cheek, sipping my hot chocolate as he takes an exaggerated breath, staring me down.
I look to him, “Olsen.” I say, lowly.
His nose twitches, “Fine, fine, but you’re coming to Cassandra’s party tonight. This is non-negotiable and I want to dance, you can’t refuse that this time.” He says to me, negotiating.
I turn to Jeremiah, who’s staring only ever at me, while the rest of his...flock, glare at Olsen, “Bring them at tryouts tomorrow, after school on the main courts.” I tell him, tapping Olsen’s begrudging shoulder.
“Including me?” He asks me, after I’d turned around.
I freeze, furrowing my eyebrows. I turn towards him as Olsen gets even more impatient, Jeremiah steps forward, I see all of him now that there isn’t a counter between us, not only did he grow in height, but he’s a head taller and far broader than even Olsen, “You want me on the field too?” He asks me.
Olsen scoffs and steps forward, “No fucking way.” He says, looking down to me.
He looks worried at the look on my face.
I turn to him, pursing my lips and smoothing out his collar, “Fair trials, Olsen.” I murmur.
He blinks, “You are kidding me?” He grunts, pursing his lips.
I smile, turning to Jeremiah, “You too.”
******
A | N: Hello my lovely readers.
I just have one question...what do you think?
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please vote and comment, I want to hear every thought! I hope this book is once again, different from the rest in the series! Let me know!
Cheers, darkblonde1
