COMPLETED
Penn State University.
Home to the craziest sorority girls, most obnoxious football players, and a girl who never wanted to be there in the first place.
Ellie Webber hates Penn State. But she is only there because her twin brother is the...
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BY THE TIME YOU HAVE READ THIS I WILL HAVE ALREADY ANNOUNCED MY BIG NEWS ON MY INSTAGRAM GO CHECK IT OUT HEHEHEHEHEH
Ellie Webber
I built up the courage to talk to him as I watched him scarf down his plate of food.
Saturday night family dinners were almost unheard of for the Webber family. Simply because grandpa was too busy with the press from winning and grandma never had time to cook by the time the entire charade was done and over with.
I could feel the steam emitting from Grandpa as he sat at the head of the table. I think that he was hotter than the pasta in front of us. The chicken on the grill could've been grilled by his anger.
It was silent besides the noises of our cutler scraping against the plates.
Grandma would pass me silent glances as Penn sat right next to me. Penn was silent tonight, even on the drive over—he was silent. There was no arguing for who was playing music, there was no racing to get into the house first—it was like my brother had completely slipped away from me.
As if I already didn't feel alone enough.
But, what did make me feel semi-good though was the fact that I had stood my ground today? For once, I took the high road and kept reminding myself that I had to be the bigger person. I needed to be the bigger person because no matter what he was a stupid Penn State football player.
I read way too many romance novels to settle for someone like that.
By the time dinner was done, Grandpa just quietly left the table—dishes sat and dinner was partially untouched. He really was going through it. I heard the familiar sound of his recliner kicking out as I locked eyes with grandma.
He was really hating his life right now.
"Does anyone want cookies?" Grandma asked, her voice was low. I shook my head while Penn copied my movements. She furrowed her eyebrows at us before standing up. She collected grandpa's plate and then her own.
Once she was out of the room, I pounced.
"What's wrong?" I asked Penn as he continued to twirl the fettuccine alfredo around his fork. His chicken sat on a different plate. His broccoli did too. He didn't like any of his food touching.
