Victoria Aspen's life just turned inside out.
She has been forced to move into the house she used to spend every summer in. It's been so long since she was welcomed back into the family and this time... they didn't really have a choice.
But thi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DISCLAIMER: hi there. It is older me retreading this story and making little edits while I do and once again I AM SO SORRY FOR THE HOMOPHOBIA AND MISOGYNY AND SLUT SHAMING 14 YEAR OLD ME FELT LIKE WAS FUNNY AND UNIQUE SO GROSS. There is a part in this chapter that is just so grounded in deepest toxic masculinity and not valuing queer people that I would just have to rework it too much to actually get it out of the story and I love this story I really do but am I going to invest that much time into it as an adult? No I'm not but I HAVE tried to change wording / edit out really terrible bits. I sincerely apologise and am disgusted with this past version of myself and her ingrained misogyny and homophobia - please know that I am a different person and am always looking to work on myself and if anything stuff like this just motivates me to be even better. Lots of love to everyone.
I have never had so much homework in my entire life.
I guess missing a few months of the school year takes a serious toll on your social life. Seen as Ashley has postponed furniture shopping until next week, I am sprawled out on (a most likely termite infested) wooden floor, attempting to do my study. I have at least a year's worth of content to cram into my brain in one weekend whilst Alex is downstairs, having a good old time with the whole of Hansen High.
I'm kidding.
But that's what it sounds like.
Dad and Ash let him have the boys over until they get home from work later tonight. Apparently Fridays just so happen to be night-shift days.
How convenient for my delinquent of a brother.
I mean, they're in the basement and I happen to twitch every time the bass drops into sorority-party level. No amount of Brendon Urie could drown this carcinogenic Skrillex out.
God help me.
There's at least four textbooks in front of me for some heinous number of subjects, I lost count after I burned my math book. Look, over there to your left – the ashen remains of Pythagoras's Theorem.
Let's just say that there are a lot of things I'd rather be doing at 8:23 on a lovely Friday evening. Unfortunately, that does not include listening to Alex's second hand auricle cancer.
I groan in such a way David Attenborough would mistake me for a common Water Buffalo before ripping out my earphones and scrambling to my feet. You heard right, earphones. I had earphones in and I could still hear the screeching-sounds coming from the basement.
I can practically feel the vibrations from the second floor! It's a wonder none of the neighbours have beaten Alex Aspen to death with his own speakers yet.
I mean, I'm ready to.
I try to make as much noise as possible as I stomp downstairs, in the dim hope that they'll hear and cut out the racket. That hope is extinguished.
