PROLOGUE

"Thanks, Kylie!!" I said as I got out of my best friend, Kylie Corter's silver Miata.

Kylie waved and sped off.  I looked at my watch, which I could see because courtesy of the rising sun.  It read 4:30.  'Three hours late for curfew,' I thought, 'Mom'll be asleep.'  I walked to my door, stuck the key in the lock and turned the knob, praying it wouldn't creak.  Thankfully it didn't.  As I stepped in the door, the living room light turned on, and I froze like a scared deer in headlights.

"Lose track of time?" Mom asked sarcastically from the couch.

"No.  Mom, I called to say I was going to be late," I protested as my heart returned to it's normal speed.  'She won't do anything. She hasn't done anything for the past 5 years.' I thought smiling inwardly.

"Yes, you did," agreed my Mom, "You called at one o'clock to say to say you would be home at two, not 4:30 in the morning.  This has been the 5th time this week. And what? The 20th time you've done it in a month?"

"Traffic?" I offered lamely, shrugging my shoulders.  I had been sneaking in after my curfew since I was about 14.  I'm 19 now.

"Lindsey, I don't know what to do with you any more." Mom sighed raggedly, before she continued "That is why I have no choice other than to send you to live with your Uncle Lou, in Florida."

I gasped.  The last time I had seen my short, chubby, and balding, Uncle Lou, I was 5 years old.  That was about a week before we moved from West Palm Beach, Florida up to North Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  I didn't remember too much, but what I did remember I didn't like.  "NO! Mom please? Anything else! Ground me! Please?"

"Why Lindsey?  So you can sneak out, and in some more?  So you can disobey me some more?  You'll be leaving Wednesday." Mom answered getting up off the couch and walked upstairs to her room.

I kicked the door, with my heavy steel-toed combat boots. "IF BRAD WHERE HERE I WOULDN'T BE GOING!" I screamed as kicked the door again for good measure.

This time it left a dent.