Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 3 (Kylie)

Last weekend he took Kevin and me to Disney land for the entire weekend and we all bunked in the

same suite, the best weekend ever.

“I can't breathe Stone,” I whine lifting up my head, readying myself to do some serious damage to his

back by ramming my head into it.

I’d seen how the Bulls do it, there is no better time to try it out.

I stop short when I see a small girl waiting by a motorbike, looking like she's upside down. NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

She must be about Jace's age, but I can't be sure with her face all blotchy.

Michael puts me on the ground and spins me around by my shoulders, forcing me to look at him as he

kneels in front of me.

I smile and he laughs.

I know what's funny, I have a crooked tooth in the front. Pushing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose

he shakes his head like he doesn't know what he is going to do with me. My papa does it too.

I always looked up to my brother Michael the most. He doesn't have blue or brown eyes like the others

in the Stone family, his is green like Uncle Hector.

Most people find him scary because he towers over everyone and he is all bulky and strong, but he is

cool, like so cool. How could I not like him?

"Kylie meet Dakota Larken." He moves back, slightly to the left and all my attention focuses on the

small girl.

I smile at her as she sniffles, it's obvious to me that she's crying. Michael stands up and ruffles my hair.

I smack his hand away. He knows I hate it when he does that, I'm no boy.

"You two talk,” he says, “Make friends, I'll keep Aunt Milda busy."

I giggle when he walks toward the mansion flaying his hands in the air and so does Dakota.

"I'm Kylie, Kylie Bray, whatcha doin’ here?"

Taking a small step towards me, she sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue. I would've done it with my

floral dress.

"Michaels helping me with biochemistry."

Giggling because she sounds funny, I ask,

"You a genius like my Michael?"

"Your Michael got nothing on me, I'm smarter than him."

Hands on my hips, my head tilts to the side,

"Is that so."

She put her hands on hers as well, "It is."

I shake my head, the heat from the sun making me squint my eyes. I'm getting thirsty, but I'm also

curious about this young girl.

"How old are ya" I drawl in my coolest southern twang.

My mama would've shouted at me by now, she hates when I do that. I don’t get it.

"Five, you?"

"Eight, you live ‘round here."

"Aha, we just moved to Liston Hills."

She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her yellow dirty shorts obviously nervous.

I watch her do it, and my eyes catch on her blue converse lace-ups. I have one in every color, hers look

worn and I love it, that is the trend now at our school, but my mama always throws mine out and

replaces them the moment it starts fading, maybe this girl would swap with me.

"Cool, why ya crying."

Wiping her light brown eyes, she explains, "My cousin keeps teasing me. My dad's the President of

The Sin Riders Motorcycle Club and they all have nicknames, I didn't let it bother me before but my

cousin keeps calling me nameless geek."

I frown, that’s just mean, I hate it when Kevin teases me.

He always picks on me, calling me ‘skinny bones’ or ‘rat face,’ it just makes me so mad and we end up

fighting.

Well I would, he’ll just sit there and watch me until I get tired. Then he would ask me am I done.

I always smack his head before I answer yes, and he smacks mine right back.

Why I do it, well I am a Bray.

My papa says a Bray never gives up, so I guess it's just in my blood.

"I can get you a nickname. Will ya feel better? my papas good at naming things." Obviously, I'm hoping

she'll give me her shoes if I help her out but I don't say a thing.

Her face scrunches up like she's thinking.

What is there to think about?

Finally, she nods her head with a big smile, I smile back. I like smiling even though my tooth is crooked.

My mama said I should wear it as an achievement, it's part of life.

"Come on,” I tell Dakota, “let's go call my papa."

We sneak in through the back door of the kitchen.