How to Steal a Happy Ending

•thirty six• the Getaway car.

They say first impression is the last impression. But, in Sara's case, the first impression didn't even begin to scratch the surface.

I pegged her to be one of those no-nonsense nerd types that did everything in their power to be socially awkward fire hydrants.

But after that text I realized that Sara was really just a hippo. By that I mean a hypocrite, not the animal...though she could be that as well underneath all the bullshit she covered herself with.

I threw a furious kick at the side of my garage.

Sara Wright, hippo in disguise and bane of my fucking existence.

As I then limped towards the front door, my foot throbbed in sync to the way outrage pumped though my veins.

I so fucking hate every single Wright in existence. It's like their whole family is out to rain on my parade. She must have drugged James. There is no freaking way he'd be into her, forget date her. I mean, come on, she wears the same pink cardigan everyday... like who does she think she is? Jaime fucking Sullivan?

I rang my doorbell with much more force than necessary. As I waited for my mom to open the door, I made a mental list of all the reasons Sara Wright is a loser.

For starters, she bandies around about how she's soo not into the party thing and then goes prancing into the very first one she's invited to.

She wears the tiniest, skin tight dress and claims her sister 'made' her wear it. Like please, who are you trying to fool?

She's a 'strict non-alcoholic' so that someone can 'force' her to down a couple shots. Or even better, the punch was spiked and she had no clue.

And last but not least- she goes around saying she doesn't believe in love just so that some guy can sweep in and prove her wrong.

I once again jabbed at the bell.

But that guy is not going to be James. No, the only way that's going to happen is if it were over my dead body.

I rapped the window pane instead of going for the bell again.

"Moooom." I yelled, dragging out the syllables, the sound waves creating a brief, yet visible buzz of vibration on the glass.

Another couple seconds of fuming on the porch before a soft click was heard.

The door swung open to reveal a bigger mess than me. Her eyes were red and puffy, matching her sullen expression.

"Mom," I repeated with a softer tone as I stepped inside. "What's wrong?"

It wasn't the first time I'd seen her like this. My mother is a crier; she tears up even for the cheesiest of chick flicks. But this kind of crying was different. It stemmed from a sadness that existed beyond a TV screen. And, I'll admit, it unnerved me.

She sucked in a deep breath before placing a hand on my shoulder as she steered me into the living room. She plopped me on the couch and started pacing back and forth, wringing her hands.

"I don't know how I'm going to tell you this..."

"Uhm, just- I don't know- blurt it out? And can you stop moving, I'm getting dizzy." My tone was surprisingly calm considering the frantic speed at which she was moving.

"Did someone die?" I asked, going for the highest common denominator.

"Your dad's getting married." She blurted out, taking my advice- which, in hind sight, was terrible advice.

"Oh."

It felt like someone had just slapped me with a slimy, wet fish. Out of the blue and straight from the marketplace.

She stopped moving and watched my reaction closely. Only there wasn't much of one. She was probably expecting me to break down like her. And maybe I should've, anything would've been better than the stale silence I was giving her.

I desperately shuffled through my brain to find something to say to her. "Isn't he already married? Like to you?"

"We got a divorce a couple weeks ago. We were going to tell you but then," she paused to blow her nose into an extremely crumpled tissue.

"I'm so sorry," she wept, crumbling into the couch.

I pulled away from the hug she tried to give me.

"Oh no, it's okay. I'm not mad about it or anything. I mean, I just thought that if he was already married then it'd be illegal to get married again. Like, it'd be kind of bad if he went to jail. But, okay, you guys are divorced now. So it's all cool...legally I mean. I'm not saying that I wanted you guys to get one. I mean, you can. And you did. I- It's fine. I don't really care."

I realized I should stop rambling but it was like I had verbal diarrhea. And the shit just kept flowing out of my mouth.

"I mean I'm not sad or angry, or whatever. But you're totally allowed to be. Unless you're over him, which is good. I mean, it's not like its bad if you aren't. I'm just-" Sucking in a breath, I finally shut myself up. My brain deciding to concentrate on basic respiration instead.

"Are you sure you're okay Claire?" my mom asked in between her sniffling and snuffling.

I slowly made my way out of the room lest my mouth decided to chuck words of misplaced comfort at me.

"Yeah, completely." I replied stoically. I knew I should ask if she was okay. I knew I should console her somehow.

But my traitorous feet took me up the stairs,

"I'm going to do my homework."

...and my cowardly heart followed its lead.

Claire Heathrow: best daughter of the year.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

A/N: So I know I've been building up to this for a while (what with the ring, the phone calls and her mom generally being blue of late) but I hope that these weren't too spread out for you, as the reader, to catch...?

Either way, how do you think this might impact the story and Claire's decisions? I would love to hear your guesses ( Holiday Update Countdown: 5 more days! ^_^ )