This story deals with a sensitive subject, love between two family members
that goes beyond "family love". Some people might of course feel offended
by this, but if so, I advice you to simply not read this. I own nothing from the
Lords of Dogtown movie, which is what the story is mostly based on, rather
than the real life Z-Boys and whatnot. Ages are mostly the same as in real
life though, which you could suspect isn't in the movie where they mostly
appear to be the same ages. Anyway, I got the idea for this story from a
book that I read at school the other day, which, ironically enough, is also
called "Sibling love". It's in swedish though (my mother language), so really,
it's called "Syskonkärlek". It's only really the sister and brother relationship
idea that is alike between the two though, so don't jump to any conclusions
or something. Also, I will most likely be posting shorter chapters instead of
mega lengthy ones. Why? I'm just no one of those writers who can manage
to write √ľberlong stuff and make it sound good enough for myself to feel
satisfied. I usually blame that on english being "only" my second language.
Jeez, this became a lot longer than I was aiming for. You may proceed now.
I'll promise not to ramble this much whenever I post the next chapter. Oh,
and reviews are greatly appreciated, I love hearing people's thoughts on
my stories and whatnot. Constructive criticism is very much approved, haha.
Also, the rating for this story is most likely to go up as we go further into
the plot, because I just can't seem to put a lock on myself from writing too
many swear words and blah blah blah. We'll have to see though.

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Can a sister be in love with her brother?

prologue

The pain of the words uttered by Jay at the moment he shoved his fist into Tony's jaw (after Tony had deliberately put his hand
on my thigh) was so excruciating and peculiar I almost felt a sour taste not too different from vomit in the back of my throat. I
had stared at him as the words left his mouth, "Don't fucking touch her! SHE'S MY SISTER!". It hurt far worse than when I fell
out of a tree aged five and broke my arm for the first time. The rejection, not that it was meant directly towards me, was like
having reality bash down at me in two hundred miles per hour. It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over
my head, and I had nowhere to go and get warm. I should take it from the beginning though, and make some sense out of it.

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It was the beginning of the summer of 1976 when my father dropped me and my dog Maserati - whom I had named so to show my love for the Italian car manufacturer with the same name, outside the Adams' household. My name was Margaret, although I never let anyone know that. I just went by Maggie, for comfort reasons, and to avoid being picked on. I was fourteen years old as of six weeks and five days, and had just learned to ride a bike. That's the particular thing that I remember about that, that I had just learned to use the pedals on a bike. Some might probably find it strange, fascinating even, that I learned to do it so late in life. I was proud of the fact though.

My father, who was going to spend the next two years inside a prison in Oregon for being clumsy when being the middle hand of a crystal meth deal that had gone wrong, was leaving me with Philaine, who used to be his girlfriend about sixteen years ago. I wasn't, and still isn't, directly related to her. The thing, though, is that she had a son fifteen years ago, and the father of him is my dad. I was probably more surprised than my dad was when she agreed to take me in until my dad got out.

I know what you're thinking, what about my mother?

She died when I was eight, from leukemia. It was a miracle according to the doctors, that she even lived until the age of thirty-seven. My mom had always been strong, but in the end, she just wasn't strong enough to fight off the disease that was killing her, piece by piece, day by day.

Philaine took me in with open arms as I entered the house that smelled almost suspiciously sweetly of a smell I recognized far too well after spending six years alone in the same house as my dad. Maserati whimpered as he ran across the small hallway and into what I presumed to be the living room, and dove beneath the couch with a loud and excruciating wail.

"Jay isn't home at the moment, I'm sorry about that", she excused him with a warm and interestingly enough, distracted smile.

"S'okay", I murmured and kicked off my beaten up leather boots that I had once bought at one of those army storage clothing sales.

I wondered to myself if Philaine had even mentioned to him that his halfsister was coming this day. I looked out the window - the sun was shining bright and close to annoying.

Philaine caught me looking outside at the weather, and as she led me to the room I would be sleeping in she explained Jay's absence, "He's with his friends. They're probably out surfing."

I felt like raising my eyebrows at the comment, but I probably shouldn't have been so surprised.

As to what I had heard about my halfbrother so far, surfing and skateboarding seemed to be his life or something of the like. I had never tried either of them. It wasn't that big from the small suburban town I came from. And because of the sea being more than two hours away by car, I had only ever seen it in real life once. It was when my mom took me on a vacation to her grandparents when I was seven. They live just outside of San Diego, in a house five minutes from the beach.

You'd think that the genius otherwise known as my dad would have talked to my grandparents about my stay for the following two years, but apparently, that wasn't even an option. They have never liked my dad, and truly, the feeling is mutual.

"You'll have to share with Jay until we get your room fixed up, I'm sorry. I could probably make Jay sleep on the cou-",

"Really, Philaine, it's okay. Can't be that bad, right?", I told her with a forced smile on my lips as I looked at the camp bed that had been placed opposite what, obviously, was Jay's bed.

"It's just that Jay hasn't been much help home recently, and well, I don't have the time to do it mys-",

I interrupted her again, "I said it's fine. Don't worry about it, I've bunked far worse than with some hormonal teenage boy before."

Philaine let out a relieved sigh, or at least it came off as something as close as possible to relieved. I wasn't judging though.

"That reminds me actually. If you don't mind", I saw where this was going, "Could you maybe go down to the beach and tell him that dinner will be ready at five?"

I shrugged indifferently, slightly satisfied to be able to get away from the sweet stench for a while.

"You could maybe ask him to give you a tour of town too, if you'd like?", and there it was again - the warm yet distracted smile.

Philaine watched me quietly as I put down my bag on the bed, and then her eyes shifted to Maserati as he came darting from the living room, this time taking a position beneath the camp bed. Poor dog probably didn't know what hit him.

"We'll see", I mumbled and forced out yet another smile.

I wasn't exactly all joy and lovely to get to meet Jay, in the beginning at least. Surely, it was exciting to meet someone who's related to you by flesh and blood, and that one isn't your mom, dad or something of the like. Then again, meeting someone who you're expected to get along with, someone who you haven't met your whole life, yeah, I could have done without it.

Philaine, who would later become for me the mother and father, parental guardian really, I had never really had, left the room as I ripped up the lock on my bag and dug through it for the California appropriate clothing. To say the least, there was a big difference between the climate in Venice Beach, as to the one in my hometown.

Maserati had finally crawled out from underneath the bed, and was now snoozing loudly in the center of the room, sometimes opening one eye to check what was going on.

I stared out the only window in the room, which had been left half open, probably because of the lack of air conditioning in the house. Philaine probably couldn't afford it. The sun glared at me with it's bright rounded shape, not one cloud in sight. If it hadn't been because of my Spanish heritage on my mother's side, I could've guessed I would have been stared at much more than I would later become. Not only was I not "a local", the locals only policy in Venice could drive anyone crazy I later realized, but if it hadn't been because my skin was naturally tan from genetics, I would have been pale too, only enhancing the not local fact.

Picking up a pair of cut off jeans, now turned into shorts, and a white tank top with spaghetti straps, I stood in front of the mirror placed snugly into one corner of the room. It had a crack in the lower left part of it, but it wasn't so it disturbed me too much. I took off my jeans and the T-shirt that I had ridden in to Venice, and turned sideways in front of the mirror, running my hands up and down my stomach. Like any self-conscious fourteen year old, I disliked my body. Why would my boobs never start going? How long would it take until I stopped looking like a child? I grimaced slightly before taking on the tank top and shorts and ruffling Maserati's fur.

Philaine was sitting at the kitchen table when I closed the door to the bedroom, and she was reading some ladies' magazine and smoking a cigarette.

"There is a bike out back, unless you are willing to walk. Just follow the road straightforward, and you'll see the beach easily. You should be able to find the way there yourself from there. And don't forget to tell Jay about dinner time. Oh, and just take a pair of flip-flops, those boots you wore will get too warm.", Philaine told me as she put out the cigarette in the already full ashtray. I wondered if she was going to empty it soon.

"Okay thanks", I called as I stuck my feet into a pair of yellow flip-flops and exited the house while pulling my fingers through my hair.

The bike Philaine had talked about was far too big for my small 5'0 frame (I hadn't even started to grow fully at that age), and I had to stand up to even reach the pedals, but to just feel the wind going through my hair and stroke my warm skin was worth it as I sped down a hill only a mile away from the house. I could see the beach, and even the black dots in the water that resembled people a lot. I guessed that they were my brother, how weird that felt to think at the time, and his friends.

I kept pedaling at a hasty pace and sat down on the seat of the bike when I sped down the hill, almost crashing into a car on my way, as I thought about the waiting meeting with my brother. Brother... weird feeling.