V@lley Gurl$: #AMysteryNovel

Chapter One: #HappyBDay2Me

(Picture of Stacy at the top. Literally, AnnaSophia Robb is so effing pretty like how does one simply even? And then there's Brendan Urie, too, cuz hot dam. And I'm sorry if this chapter is a little slow or boring, but I promise you it'll get better ☺👌)

Chapter One: #HappyBDay2Me

As her stepfather parked the car on the side of the road, all Stacy could do was stare out the window at her brand new, completely foreign house. She listened to Panic! At The Disco's new album on her IPod, which she'd gotten today for her seventeenth birthday, as she analyzed the place that she'd be staying in until she graduated next spring. 

She had to admit that the house was pretty cute, but kinda cookie-cutter for her taste. It was a quaint, little thing that looked warm and inviting. It had light yellow siding and large, white-trimmed windows. The front door was painted a cherry red and there was a huge oak tree on the front lawn.

Stacy thought that the house looked practically picture perfect until she locked eyes on something that made her face cringe in disgust. It was the wretched garage door. Stacy couldn't believe her eyes! I'm sorry to say it, but it was just so freaking ugly! It was like painted the most terrible shade of puke green that Stacy couldn't even look at it without it making her want to bend over and blow chunks everywhere.

"Well," she whispered to herself. "Happy birthday to me..."

A knock on the car window startled Stacy from her judgmental thoughts. She looked to see her annoying little sister, Shelly, motioning for her to roll down the window. With an exasperated sigh, Stacy pulled out an ear bud then slowly rolled down the window, preparing herself for the torture to come.

"What do you want?" Stacy immediately snapped. She was really tired from the long eighteen hour drive and was in no mood to deal with Shelly's usual bullshit. "Wow, aren't you in a rude mood today." said Shelly coolly, rolling her eyes.

"Anyways, as much as I would love to start a fight with you on your birthday, which I'd win by the way becuase you suck ass, I'd rather see your lazy bitch ass get up and start moving shit out of the truck. Thanks." Snooty little shit, Stacy thought. For a twelve-year-old, Shelly had the most colorful vocabulary.

Scowling in digust, Stacy slowly rolled the window back up while mumbling a string of unintelligible curse words. Then she swiftly unbuckled herself and opened the door, only to be greeted by a blaze of heat and the smell of baking cement.

"Honey," yelled her mother from the back of the truck, "Come get these boxes! They go to your room!"

Walking over to get the boxes, Stacy began to feel the beginning of sweat trickle down her neck. "Jesus H. Christ, Mom," she complained. "Is it like super hot like this all year round?"

"Of course it is, dear," her mother said in "duh" tone. "We're in California!" Laughing like she just heard the funniest dumb joke, her mother handed her some large and reasonably heavy cardboard boxes.

"Now stop complaining and go take these to your room!" Grabbing a few boxes from the moving truck, Stacy sighed while rolling her eyes and made her way into the house, practically panting and sweating like a dog.