Second Entry in One Day: Chp. Two!

Ok so here's another chapter... of Ultimately Sweet Ending

If any one out there is reading it.. Please leave me a comment! Your thoughts will help!!
Thanks

Chapter Two: Finally Me.

So, now at age 16 I'm basically living alone in my family's castle. My brother Josh lives in Franklin Pond, but he's busy with his wife and kids. My nephews, Bronne and Christian, are now 5 and 3. I love them to death, and I've got a constant cash flow for babysitting. A little greedy though.. Don't you think? Accepting money from your brother, oh well. If I didn't take some of it his wife Roshelle would spend it all on some more custom tooth brushes or personalized nasal spray.
All my other siblings live out of Franklin Pond, so here I am alone with mom and dad. Dad's always at the factory and Mom always is gone visiting or out with the girls or anywhere but here. So, while my other seven siblings had a home mom to make their lunches and braid their hair and pick them up when they got sick at school, I was basically alone doing it all for myself. I'm okay with that though. Thats part of what makes me so different from my family.
So that's what my guitar provides for me. My best friend, besides my human one Emilee, is my guitar. A old worn acoustic that I picked up a garage sale in Chinatown at age six with Stephen on a summer vacation to see him. I live with that baby at my side. Constantly writing, constantly singing, constantly strumming. Playing that guitar is amazing. Such a let loose. A getaway. The warm orange of the wood as I pick it up after a long day of yet another failed math test or a failing grade on my latest lab for chemistry feels like I'm home. Yeah, I'm home finally. Not in my castle where no one but me is. But, my family doesn't really get that whole guitar playing thing. My mom told me to stop making noise and to put my ukulele away.
But here's where my real story starts. Where the guitar cannot go for me, but someone else can. And there's only one person who could of changed my life in so many ways: Ryland Christopher Marx. It all starts a little weird though, so I have to take a step back to sophomore year at Franklin Pond Country Day School and on to the beginning of my and Ryland's story.
I came from prep school into the still private Franklin Country Day. I'm not a cheerleader and I don't care who played football or basketball. And I am not a smart girl who is a closet singer, and I for sure am not going to break into song and everyone around would dance along and sing too. Choreographed numbers and all. I was sort of the odd one out. I was just strange compared to everyone else. So, basically everyday I would go to school and race home. If I was Kierstyn, mom would of picked me up in the Porsche and drove me home while I ate the carrot sticks and dressing she packed in the car, but no. I took the bus. But the second I was with in walking distance of my house, I was sprinting with my bag, prairie skirt, and moccasins in tote.
Every other day this sight would of been normal, due to the fact that I had practically grown up around the landscapers, funny not siblings even though I have only seven or so. They saw first bikini pool-side, to my first ever kiss with Alec Berger on my walk out deck, and my first fight with mom as I snook out the balcony after telling her that I hated her. They were there for it all. Funny, how my own sister didn't see me take my first steps, but the landscaper did.
But today it wasn't our usual guys, George and Hank. It was a younger man with his son. A son around my age. And he found our yard abysmal or something. He sat there head down in our lawn. But, I was captured by his long sandy brown hair and what I thought were green eyes.
Every week this man and his son would come to my house. Trim the bushes, cut the trees, mow our lawn. And I would see this boy every week as well. He played rugby. I could see him practicing off the side of our tennis courts. ( I don't mind, the last to use those was Naomi.) I often found myself wanting to know more to the point I feel creepy. Sometimes I could hear him on the phone chatting it up about practice or to meet him at seven. I knew his favorite food, mozzarella sticks. I knew his I knew his favorite type of music, punk. I knew his shoe size, eleven. ( I peeked at them once when he used the rest room in our foyer and took off his shoes). I had become obsessed. I would listen to him from my windows yelling at his dad that he didn't want to pick up any more sticks, or how this wasn't a one man job and he needed at swat team or how no one else had to work. He said that the lonely girl inside the house was a spoiled brat and how he saw me at school every day and I did nothing to deserve someone to spill sweat and tears when I didn't wanna chip a nail. That girl who was a dumb bitch who stood up there like the ice queen. That girl who wore clothes that cost more than some college tuitions while dripping in diamonds. That girl who looked down at them like they were the crap under her high heeled shoe. Then it began. That girl was me.
I then hated him then. Hated him for not wanting to know me. Hated him for not giving me a chance. Hated him for everything that would come.
That was when I said the first thing to him. I ran down stairs. Opened the double doors. Ran outside. And ran up to him and his father. And screamed "Who do you think you are? You don't know me! You may be some judging piece of shit, but you don't know the first thing about my life! Get out you're fired!" That was when his father had come up and sincerely apologized, and told me that his son was just upset. "I'm sorry miss," he had said. "It's ninety degrees out, you have to understand. He's just a little delirious. Ryland, apologize." He demanded. That was it. That was when I had met Ryland.