Alexis:

"You have got to be kidding me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Calm down, Alexis. It won't be that bad," my father sighed, slowly coming into my room.

"It's Alex to you. And calm down? Do you know what this means?" I questioned him.

"You will finally have the sibling you've always wanted." He smiled.

"No, Dad. I'll have to take all of my stuff out of the guest room. Then I'll have to start sharing my bathroom. Why can't you get married after I move out?" I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Stop being a brat. Now, hurry up and get your stuff out of there so you can clean the room. They will be here tomorrow morning, and I want everything to look perfect," he stated, giving me a stern look.

I could never take my father seriously. He resembled Tyrese Gibson, bald head and all. My father was very athletic, having played basketball, football, and lacrosse throughout his high school and college years. He went from being a personal trainer to the CEO of a global workout and weight-loss company. My mother left about eight years ago, and we hadn't heard from her since.

My father never really told me about his new fiancé. Just that her name was Michelle and she had a daughter around my age. Because the wedding was closer to where we lived, it made more since for them to just move in with us and work from here. Apparently, Michelle was some sort of therapist, and my father had met her through a session they'd had.

Honestly, I could care less about this woman or her child. Especially if they were changing up my lifestyle. I had too many sneakers and clothes to fit in my closet, so I just hung them around the guest room, which was just a quick walk away, through the bathroom that conjoined it with my own room.

Now I'd have to cancel with my home boys and move back in to my own room. Great.

Before I could even shoot them a text, my cell phone rang. The screen lit up with a fine little shorty I used to mess with. She was cute, but she was way too clingy. Yes, I said "she." I'm one hundred and twelve percent lesbian.

From the time I could read and walk, I knew I wanted a future with another woman. I envisioned bringing home the bacon, wrapping my arms around my wife, and shooting hoops in the backyard with my children. I wanted to chill, with a gorgeous honey by my side.

"What's up?" I answered the phone, somewhat annoyed.

"Hey, Alex. I miss you. Where have you been?" she whined into the phone. "Zoey, I don't have time for you right now. Or ever, for that matter. I've got stuff to do today. I might call your later, but I highly doubt it. Bye." I hung up.

I only had about three good friends. They were all boys too. I gave them advice with girls, and they gave me friendship in return. They never treated me like a girl, and that's what I liked most about them.

Almost forgetting I had school, I quickly ran to the bathroom to get ready. I was already half an hour late. I was surprised my father didn't say anything when he first came into my room.

Since it was the end of August, it was still fairly hot. I dressed myself in a white Calvin Klein sports bra, a red and black plaid long-sleeved button-up (leaving it unbuttoned), khaki joggers, and my Bred 11s. My hair was in waves down my back. I grabbed my black MCM backpack and ran downstairs to my car.

"Yo, you never ever on time. My mom's tripping, thinking school start at ten because you never on time," Jay laughed. Jay had to be my best friend out of the three friends that I had.

"Boy, please. You lucky I even choose to give you a ride. You can walk," I joked.

"Yeah, yeah. You think just because your pops bought you a hot ride, you the shit. I'll teach you otherwise after school when we get to the court." He smacked his lips together.

"Oh yeah, I can't go today. My dad's fiancé and her daughter are moving in tomorrow morning, and I got to have my stuff out the guest room tonight. Sorry." I shrugged.

As if on cue, Zoey found me at my locker. "You know you're late right?" she asked, playing with her hair. Not even ten minutes into my school day and this broad was already flirting.

"Didn't I tell you I would hit you up when I could? Why you bugging me, huh?" I rolled my eyes, trying to find the books I needed for my class.

"You say that all the time, baby. I didn't think you were serious." She smiled.

"Well I was," I replied, seriously.

"Really?" She pouted.

"Yes." I slammed my locker shut and turned in the opposite direction.

The day went by so slow. School never really interested me, but if I was going to be successful someday, I had to get through it. For someone who really hated it, I got good grades. I never failed a class, let alone any tests or quizzes. It was kind of a breeze.

By the time lunch arrived, I was sitting on the front lawn of the school, chilling with my boys. None of us really cared for the food that they served, so we always settled on a large bag of Doritos and each opted for a bottle of water.

"Man, your father's getting married again?" one of my friends, Carl, asked. This caused everyone in the group to burst into laughter.

"Shut up," I responded, laughing.

"No, seriously. What number wife is this?" he piled on.

"Five," Greg, my third friend, answered.

"Y'all are some bitches. Leave my pops alone, man," I exclaimed, throwing a handful of chips at them.

"Hey, don't waste the Doritos," Jay joked.

My father was a hopeless romantic. I had come to this conclusion after wife number three. He ran through women like it was nothing. With every woman he met, he always claimed it was love. With every divorce, he claimed he had never really loved her. Either way, my father was always left heartbroken. This taught me everything I needed to know about women: Never get attached, never tell them how you feel, and never ever get back together with them after a break-up (wife number two became wife number six, which just ended in another divorce).

Call me crazy, but I'd learned from the best.

Aubrey:

"It's true. I'm moving," I sobbed. My friends and I were in the girls bathroom. Every one of us had left our class to do our daily meet up.

"Oh my gosh, why?" Heather, one of my friends, shrieked.

"My mom is marrying some guy, and they want to move in together." I wiped my tears.

"It won't be that bad. You'll probably have a bigger room," another friend joked.

"No, you don't get it. I'm moving practically across the freaking world. I'm transferring, guys," I choked out.

"Oh no!" they all shrieked in unison. It wasn't long before they all surrounded me and engulfed me with hugs.

This was an emotional moment for me. I wouldn't get to wear my Catholic school uniform anymore, and I wouldn't have classes with my friends. In fact, I was getting picked up early today to finish packing up my room.

"I'm not talking to you," I said sternly, getting into the car with my mother. "That's fine. We're still moving to California." She shrugged, pulling out of my school's parking lot. I watched the large church fade as we drove off on the opposite direction.

"I really think you will like where we are moving. You will go to a public school, wear regular clothes, and finally have someone to talk to. I think you will get along with Hank's daughter just fine." She smiled warmly. "Whatever," I scoffed, sliding headphones in my ears.

When I got home, I ran up to my room. One of the main reasons I loved my life was because of my bedroom. True, it wasn't the biggest, but it was a nice glittery pink and kept all my treasures. A wall full of magazine cutouts and pics with my friends was now ripped off and packed into a brown cardboard box.

The only things left to be put away were the items on my dresser, which consisted of makeup and smell-goods, along with a few pieces of jewelry. I unplugged the earbuds from my cellphone and decided to play the music out loud. My favorite song was Muse by PARTYNEXTDOOR, so I let it flow on repeat.

By the time my room was in boxes by the door and my suitcases were packed, I was out of tears and ready to just go. There was no reason for me to sit where I would no longer be sleeping or spending most of my time.

The only thing I could think of was bothering my mother. Jogging upstairs to her room, I knocked on the door before eventually just pushing it open. My mother owned a lot of things. Her closet was still unpacked, and she sat on the floor wrapping picture frames in bubble wrap.

"Need help?" I asked, stepping deeper inside her bedroom.

"Oh wow. I'm surprised your speaking to me. I thought I was ruining your life," she scoffed.

"I was just being a brat." I shrugged, laughing a little.

"I know. But yes, you can help with the closet. Just put my clothes in my suitcases along with my shoes and anything else in there just throw it in a box. I'm so tired, baby," my mother sighed, yawning.

"Go take a nap. You've been packing all day. I'll finish everything up."

Since the day I was born, my father was never in my life. I'd seen photos of him and my mother in their teen years but never in person. My mom never brought him up and changed the subject whenever I asked. It was if he was just a big mystery that was never figured out.

My mother didn't really have a lot of boyfriends throughout my upbringing. It was always me and her. We did everything together. Nails, hair, shopping, and we even did Saturday yoga classes. My mother was definitely my best friend.

By the time I had finished up everything, two hours had passed and my arms felt like Jell-O. I had folded, lifted, carried, lugged, pulled, and taped a bunch of stuff. Not to mention all the labeling I had to do.

The only thing that brought me out of my packing daze was my cell phone vibrating from the inside of my bra.

"Hey, babe," he chimed.

"Hey," I responded, walking back to my room.

"We need to talk," he said seriously. Oh god, I hoped he wasn't about to break up with me. Yeah, I was moving. But that didn't mean we had to break up.

"Is this about me going to California?" I questioned, plopping down on my bed.

"Yes. What are we going to do?" he asked, sighing.

"Mike, things are going to be fine. I love you, and I really don't want us to break up. I'll visit whenever I can. Tell me this will work," I spoke, helplessly. Mike stalled for a few seconds before he eventually laughed and said, "This will work."

Mike was kind of good looking. He was a nerdy boy who I'd first run into at the sushi place with my friends. We didn't meet at school because we didn't go to co-Ed schools. His was all boys, and mine was all girls. His school was preparatory and sat on a steep hill across the street from mine. Mike would walk me to school and bring me lunch whenever he could. It was a nice little system we had going on.

Mike and I talked for about an hour before hanging up. I had to get back to my mother and make sure everything was ready before our flight tomorrow.

Of course she was already awake and putting her suitcases in the living room.

A few hours later, my mother and I had showered and changed clothes. I settled on dark coral True Religion capris, a black shredded tank top with a golden moon in the center, and gold platform sandals. My hair fell loosely down my back, and I slid my light purple Dior shades on top of my nose.

The flight was only going to be about four hours, and it was hot in California.

"Let's roll," my mother yelled from the bottom of the steps.

"I'm coming," I exclaimed. Picking up my carry-on, I closed the door behind me and ran downstairs.

On to my new life...