Try me

Let's break it down

I carried my final box into the living room. My aunt had yet to tell me where my room was going to be, so this was the best place to put it for now.
"Where do you want this," I asked, wiping sweat off my forehead. (Who knew how heavy my stuff was!)
"Uh huh, nopety nope nope nope," Aunt Larmilla starts. "First let's go over the ground rules." I groan, getting ready for a boring speech, but she quickly stops me.

She hands me a piece of paper that says,
• Five hours of community service a week
•Must have a job
•Must have passing grades at all times
•No underage drinking or frick-frack
At that point, I couldn't contain myself. That is such a weird term, to be honest. I finished reading all the boring typical stuff, and sighed. I guess this might not be as fun as I thought.

I look up at her, doubt filling my face.

"Really, five hours of community service a week," I started, " How am I supposed to have a social life?" She gave me an are you serious look. I stared at her until realization hit me.

"You're here because you had an overload of a social life," she sang with an evil toothy grin. Who knew someone with rainbow hair could be so devious! I scowl at her and she points to a box, signifying where my room was to be.

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I carried my final box into my room and smiled. It was quite big, with a large bay window. It had dark, hardwood flooring with plain, white walls. I gave a satisfied look and started unpacking.

"We can go shopping for decor and such later today," she says enthusiastically. I fake a smile. Shopping with adults has never been my forte.
"Sure, that sounds... like buying things," I pointed out half- heartedly. Yep, way to sound stupid Cammie. Way to sound stupid.

"You ready to go," Aunt Larmilla questioned me. I grabbed my purse and checked my phone. Still no texts asking where I was, but I shook that off. I was always the one to text. They probably assumed I was busy.

"Yeah, Aunt Larmilla. I'm ready," I called out. I ran down the stairs and saw her frowning.

"Don't call me that. Then I sound old," she chided.

"Fine then. What do I call you," I countered with a laugh. My aunt was anything but old from her appearance to her speech.
"Call me," she said rubbing her chin and pretending to be in thought, "Mil, duh. My first name is so drab. I am not some old hipster," she continued and I laughed at her awkwardness.

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I carried in my new comforter and set of paints. I can't wait to see how this will turn out! I looked through the window and was greeted by a shirtless guy. I could get used to this. Then I noticed the group of boys behind him, laughing at me. I am never leaving this house; ever.
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Written by G
Edited by A and E