Fragile: Handle With Care

Fragile: Handle With Care - Prologue

Prologue

The Castaneda's are the average American family. From the outside, you might say picturesque or seemingly perfect, but like any other family, we have our dirty family secrets. Okay, we have no family secrets, especially dirty (that I know of), but we do have our weaknesses.

William Castaneda, or who I like to call 'Dad', is somewhat of a successful businessman. His work hours, eight in the morning until three in the afternoon, are envied by the people who have odd, off-the-wall schedules. Sometimes when he's in a good mood, he'll bring back goodies from the local bakery.

Lillian Castaneda, Mom or 'Lily' to other people, is kind of your stereotypical stay-at-home mom. She keeps the house nice, tidy, and in tiptop shape. She can usually be seen wearing a powder pink and white apron. One of her top priorities is to make sure that there are always fresh baked cookies in our grandmother's antique cookie jar.

Leo and Stella are the epitome of siblings.

Leo is my younger, five year old brother. He's like the devil, but in a smaller, more compact package. My parents think he's a perfect, angelic child that was sent to them by God himself. In reality, he's just a brat.

Stella is at the age where she doesn't care about anyone or anything unless it brings her attention and popularity. That stage also involves dramatic changes in appearance; blue hair, purple contacts, that kind of thing. She also acts on the impulses brought to her by raging hormones. Unfortunately, the rest of us have to deal with her, too.

And then there's me, Sophie.

I don't think I ever went through the stages that my siblings are going through. I was just your everyday good girl; not a hint of rebel in my system. I never broke the rules, and I'm a definite people pleaser. Any sparkle that life decided to sprinkle on me, I turned into a lumpy, bland mush; oatmeal.

I blended in; better than Blendy Pens, because let's face it, they don't work. If I had a nickname, I would probably be called The Chameleon. But I really don't have many friends, and the ones I do have aren't that creative. And if I told them that, it would kind of be cheating. You just don't give yourself a nickname; that was beyond lame.

To be honest, I was getting tired of being a clownfish in a room of Nemos' and Marlins'. In other words, fitting in and going with the flow.

I needed a spark in my life, pizzazz. I wanted to embark on an incredible adventure; something memorable that I could add to my short list of life experiences. I needed to break free of my monotonous world of routine.

And I guess that's how I ended up in the streets of San Francisco.