Johnny Orlando & Mackenize Ziegler.
They are temperamental. He is fire and heat, she is winter and ice. They don't match- but opposites attract, right?
Join them through a story spanning years. Car crashes. Drunken Kisses. Fights. Confessions of lo...
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
•••
"Mackenzie!" I hear my darling Mother call out from downstairs.
"Coming!" I yell back automatically, rolling my eyes a little.
It's only been three days since I've moved to Los Angeles. Now, I live right in the city as apposed to smack bang in the middle of nowhere. We- meaning my Mum, sister and I, used to live in a remote town in called Wakefield in Canada, and it's been a move that I've more than happy to make.
In Canada, we didn't have much apart from each other. Maddie (my sister) and I were each others best friends due to the fact that in the town of Wakefield, we were considered abnormal because we 'did too much.' My high school consisted of less than one hundred students, and my after school dance class had four people in it.
Our house was a one story, warm brick and concrete building. My opinion had always been that people move to Wakefield Canada to live out their lives in a calm, rational, boring way. Most people there are older than my Mum, my sister and I put together.
Since Maddie and I's father scarpered when we were young, leaving us only his house, possessions and a few precious memories of him, it's taken my Mother years to raise enough money to get out of the hellhole. Now that we're here, I couldn't be prouder of us. We put so much on the line moving to America, but Mum has always said she believes we were destined for more than selling clothes (her old job). Maddie is particularly talented in lyrical dance because she really manages to connect with her audience through facial expressions, and me? I've always loved to sing.
My father used to sing to me to sleep. It's one of the only good memories I have of him. He used to hit my Mum. Punch her, bruise her, smack her- whatever you might call it. Domestic violence was regular.
I recall, if vaguely, muffled screams at night, and slapping sounds that afterwards my mother told me was just the cars outside, or the weather, or some other crazy excuse. She would always have bruises in places no one else could see- I only knew about them because I had walked in on her concealing them with makeup once. She didn't see me, and as a little girl I didn't understand that that was out of the ordinary. I didn't understand that normal Mums didn't have to cover up bruises because they didn't have any.
I ended up telling an old friend at school what I had seen, who told my teacher. My teacher happened to be my Mums best friend, who in turn talked to my Mum about it. The following week, my Dad had gone. Scarpered. Never to be seen again.
"Mackenzie?" I hear my Mum question from the doorway, bringing me out of my reverie. "I thought you said you were coming?"
"I was- I mean I am," I tell her lightly, "Give me a second to get changed."
"Okay. Meet me downstairs when you're done... I could use a hand with the cake."
Nodding, I push the door shut with my toe and turn to my mirror. After surveying my look, I release my hair from its messy bun and braid it tight and sure down my back. Next I pull on a floral yellow sundress that makes me look the picture of innocence, and slip on some white flip flops.
Satisfied, I descend the stairs like an over-exaggerated model when I see Maddie in the hall, jokingly of course, in an attempt to make her laugh.
"Thanks." I grin, reaching up to ruffle her hair. She ducks away from my hand, laughing.
"Ready?" My Mum then asks.
I nod, looking up at them. I'm forever wishing I could grow taller, but my magical wish genie keeps forgetting my wish- I'm sure it's on his to do list however.
Creativity, childishness and innocence are three traits that people compliment me on often. My kindergarten teacher referred to me as the minx, and my year one teacher called me mischief maker. These nicknames suited me well, in fact, they still do today, and I'm often called them by my Mother and sister.
"Yup." I finally reply, grinning.
I wonder if the neighbours will have kids my age? Hopefully. I haven't had to make any new friends since preschool- perks of living your first sixteen years in a small town I suppose.
The heat from the sun burns my back as we walk over to the house next door. I'm definitely not used to this bright yellow object that hangs in the sky; as well as being a dreadfully boring and depressing town, Wakefield is also known for being the rainiest part of Canada.
Mum reaches our neighbors door; a brilliant mahogany, and we knock. It takes a while, but a friendly looking girl with blonde hair just grazing her shoulders opens it. When her gaze falls on us, it softens with realisation and she smiles.
"Hi, I'm Lauren! You must be our new neighbours?" She questions brightly.
"Yes, we are." Mum smiles while turning to us. "These are my two daughters, Maddie and Mackenzie. Maddie's almost eighteen, and Mackenzie is sixteen."
We were then interrupted by a cute guy who poked his head around the door frame. As in really cute cute. Brown hair and green eyes has always been my favourite combination- I was suddenly glad I'd worn a floral sundress today. He moved to lean on the doorframe beside the girl called Lauren.
Lauren explains who we are, and Johnnys eyes travel over me- from my braids to my flip flops. He doesn't give my Mum or Maddie a second glance.
"Hi," I blush, "I'm Kenzie."
"Hey Kenzie, I'm Johnny." He says in a husky voice, smiling back.
