❝ my family are so fucked up. i love them ❞
hannah gallagher, the middle child.
a spit fire, a smart ass and god damn loyal.
as long as she doesn't turn out like her parents, she doesn't care.
she's just trying not to get herself killed.
❝ fuck the...
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Hannah sat at the dinner table with her head in her hands, letting out a small groan.
"And that is why you don't go out with Mandy Milkovich on a school night." Fiona said, placing a mug of coffee in front of the redhead.
"Yet, you let me go." Hannah muttered.
"To learn from your mistakes." Fiona rolled her eyes, lightly hitting the back of the girl's head.
"Where's Grammy?" Debbie asked as she came downstairs.
"Frank took her to Sheila's late last night," Fiona said, "She was having trouble breathing."
"The chemicals from the fire were aggravating her emphysema." Ian told her.
Debbie's eyebrows scrunched up, "Will the chemicals give us emphysema?"
"Probably, but we won't know for fifty years." Ian shrugged as Carl made his way down the stairs in his football helmet, banging his head against the wall as he went.
"Shhh," Hannah groaned, "Too loud."
"Carl, the team gives you one helmet and if you break it, we can't afford to replace it." Fiona sighed.
"Don't matter." Carl said glumly.
"Doesn't." Hannah corrected him quietly.
"Season's over." Carl told them.
Fiona raised an eyebrow, "What?"
"Coach got arrested for exposing himself at the park." Ian told her.
"He was peeing being a shed. A couple of seven-year-old girls saw it." Debbie added.
"I don't get it. Half the world has penises," Carl shrugged, "Why do people get so upset about seeing them?"
"Context." Ian told him.
"What's that?" Carl asked.
"When, how, where and with who." Fiona listed off.
"Ian, you played," Carl turned to his brother, "You could coach."
"Uh, can't. I got to work after school, bud. Sorry." Ian said, slapping Carl's helmet as he gathered his stuff.
Fiona raised an eyebrow, "You going to school early?"
"Chemistry study group." Ian said before taking his lunch from Fiona and leaving through the back door.
"Can you coach?" Carl asked Fiona.
Fiona let out a small scoff, "I know nothing about football."
"It's just boys crashing into one another. With pads. And some--some rules." Debbie shrugged.
