Summery: Clair's your basic teenager: Would rather hang out with her friends shoe shopping then going to the movies her father, Robert, and her step mother, Grace. On Clair's 17th birthday, while her and her friend, Kristin, were watching Toddlers and Tiaras, a woman with golden brown hair answers the door. Who is it? Why, Clair's true mother of course! Read and find out who it is!

Note: Well, what do you guys think? Worth a shot? I HOPE!

Disclaimer: I'm NOT Rick Roiden (sadly...)!

Clair's POV

Hey all! I'm Clair Regatta. I'm dyslectic, have ADHD, and I am 50% Italian, and 50% whatever my mother is. If you didn't already guess, I haven't met my mother. According to Robert (my dad), she's Greek. I don't by it. Why would a greek want to live in Roakenty, North Carolina? It's small, and unpopular. My town isn't even labeled on a map of our city, Apex!

So anyway, enough about me complaining about my towns size. Lets move on to another complaint about my town: its smell.

If you ever find yourself in Roakenty, you'll understand what I mean. Our town has a big population of dogs. Forty percent of those dogs are homeless. Only 5% of the dog owners actually pick up the dog's remands. So that means 95% percent of dogs in our small square quarter mile of a town just leave their crap on the sidewalk. You have no idea how many shoes I go through in a week because of that.

My number one complaint about this town is that everyone here acts like this is how a normal town should act. They're all happy and joyful and think we have a great town.

Other then the above, my town is pretty normal.

I know what you're all thinking: Why did we just get a five minute lecture on all the annoying things about my town? I'm going to tell you something quickly. This Is the only chapter that I will be here. I'm just showing this so you all have something to compare my new life to my old life. The difference is very big...

Now, to the story. This part you should pay attention to. Little did I know it then, but this next part is very important in how my life will turn out.

I was sitting on my bed, text friend after friend to see if they want to come over and watch our new favorite show, Toddlers and Tiaras, for my seventeenth birthday when my stepmother, Grace, walked in. I never liked name Grace, let alone my stepmother. I always felt like she took the spot that my mother should fill.

"Clair," she said, her voice filled with annoyance. Robert sent you up, I thought.

The thing is, Grace hates me back. When I was younger, she thought I was 'a doll' and 'the cutest,' but as I grew and started leaving the house more often, she thought I was a family hater. It was that line that hit home. I turned and faced her, my light blue eyes meeting her dark brown. After that I walked up the her, my face red.

"Family is everything," I said. Although I don't act like it, I love Robert. He is the most important thing in my life. I used to be his everything, until Grace came along.

Grace has light brown hair with strands of grey. Her eyes are a dark brown and her skin is dark from spending so much time outside. She is a witch that stepped into this home. I can only blame myself for her being here.

When I was nine, Robert had taken me to Candy Stereo, a burger place on the corner of Plain and Rotten. Yes, those are the actual street names. So, we were sitting there, eating our burgers, when Robert started choking on his burger. I grabbed the nearest person I could find: 42 year old Grace. Now back then, she was sweet. When she gave Robert CPR, I thought about Snow White and Prince Charming, and how true loves kiss saved the day. As if on cue, the large piece of burger flung out of Roberts mouth. He looked up at Grace. "Thank you," he said.

According to Grace, she drove us home to make sure that 'Robert was okay.' At the time I didn't say anything. I had actually happy for them. A month later, the two were dating, and a year after that, Robert proposed.

"Clair!" Grace screamed at me. I looked up at her.

"What?" I snapped back. Grace gave me an aggravated look before continuing.

"Krist-" she started, but I ran past her and out the door before she could stop me. I knew what she was going to say: Kristin's here.

Kristin's my best friend. She moved to New York this summer and only comes back on two occasions: My birthday, and Christmas.

Kristin was sitting on my living room couch, talking to my father. They were deceasing the one thing that they had in common: the weather.

You see, Robert's a weather man for channel four news. Kristin just likes the weather. When we were little, we liked guessing the weather. Kristin always guessed correctly.

"Clair!" Kristin screamed, jumping over the couch and hugged me. I hugged her back. "Hey Kristin. How's New York?" I asked.

Kristin looked at me as if she didn't understand. "You know, New York! Like the Alicia Keys song!" I said.

"Oh ya! Sorry, I sort of spaced . It's great. My mom and I have an apartment. Everything's good." I looked at Kristin. She never spaced...

"Kristin are you f-" I started, but was cut off by our favorite show, Toddlers and Tiaras', theme song coming up on the T.V show. Kristin and I both shrieked and ran over to the couch. Robert laughed and got up so we could have room.

I think now is a good time to explain why I call Robert Robert. Robert never wanted to be a father. According to him, neither did my mother. So, when I turned six and Robert started telling me he never wanted to be a dad. I, at the age of six, told him that he didn't have to be a dad and that he should think of me as his buddy. From that moment on, I called him Robert.

About ten minutes into the show, the doorbell rang. Robert got up to answer it. When the door opened, Robert stood absolutely still. The woman at the door looked just like me: same golden brown hair, same icy blue eyes, same dark skin.

"Co- come in," Robert said, holding open the door,

"Clair?" the woman said, meeting my eyes. "Oh, how you've grown."

"Who are you?" I asked. Kristin tenced next to me.

"Oh Clair, my name is Hera, goddess of marriage. I am your mother."