(Normal warnings, yada yada) Chapter 2: Olivia Summer School Journal: My name is Olivia Ashlen. I'm sixteen years old. Sometimes I feel like if I disappeared, maybe people would finally care about something other than my mother. Saturday, June 6th You know how people say, 'I buried my dignity'? Well in order to be standing in front of Wyatt Carter right now, with what I have to say? I have to do more than bury mine. I need to dr0wn it. Suff0cate it. Not just bury it, but the whole six-feet-under deal. And, as most things are in my life, it's all because of my mother. Penelope Ashlen. Thirty-four-year-old actress, rising in her fame and beauty every day. Finding more reasons to abandon her teenage daughter, every day. But I suppose I'm going on a rampage. Let's go back to me, in the Carter Farm shop, staring at the one person who has always separated me from my mother's fame. And also the most annoying boy I have ever met. Wyatt's face was so red he looked like he was beginning his metamorphous to a tomato. I had to admit, it was a little mortifying to have his brother storm in when we looked so... I almost shuddered. Best not dwell on it. Instead I flicked my sunglasses up from my eyes to give Wyatt my best smile. The one I save almost exclusively for him. Sweet as honey but sharp round the edges. Something I've learned over the years is a brilliant way to flaunt your power over someone. Pretty, but with a price. Wyatt is not a reserved person. He wears his emotions, not on his sleeve, but quite literally over his face. And I love making him flustered. I may not love resembling one of the most-recognizable women in the country, but I do appreciate sharing her good-looks. They come in handy, like tools. Predictably, Wyatt's ears went red and he scowled. "It's not-he's just a-" He sighed resigned and motioned for me to follow. "Come on. Mom's inside." I trailed after him as he left the shop, hiked across the bright green grass, dotted with wildflowers, and over to the house. The air was warm but breezy, the sun hot overhead. I could see pens and different enclosures in the distance. This really was a farm. I watched the familiar way Wyatt surveyed the area, as though he'd seen it a thousand times before. He probably had, working out here, with the animals and the crops. I didn't know what to think about that. We reached the house and Wyatt kicked off his boots, revealing two different colored socks and- "Are you wearing pajama pants?" I asked, genuinely curious. From a young age, I'd been taught the importance of making an impression. Looking your best at all times. Wyatt grimaced, like he was cringing at some memory. "Uh-yeah." He crossed his arms, attempting nonchalance. "Is that a problem?" I shrugged. "Your house, your choice." Wyatt hmphed and pushed the door open, padding across the floor, the ends of his pjs trailing on the floor. Maybe they were hand-me-downs, because he had pulled the drawstring as tight as possible and they still looked ridiculously long and loose. "Mommm! There's a-" He paused, glancing back at me. "Person here to see you." "Who?" A head peeked around the corner. The boy was taller than Wyatt, but had the same shade of hair, a little longer, and eyes on the edge of being green instead of brown. The boy's eyes widened. "Who's she?" Wyatt made a noise of irritation. "Go away, Raylen-" "I just wanna know-" "What's all the fuss?" Another boy asked and I blinked. He looked like a mirror image of the other one. His eyes locked on me. "Holy cow-who's she?" His eyes darted between Wyatt and I and then bugged out, before he grinned and wolf whistled. "Wait, Wy, no way is that your girlfriend?!" I tilted my head at Wyatt. "You have a girlfriend?" He shook his head, hard. "What? No! It's just my stupid-" "WY HAS A WHAT?" "You're kidding! I never thought this day would come!" Two more boys skidded around the corner. Seriously, where were they coming from? One I recognized from out at the shop. He stared at me. I waved weakly. He grinned wide, dimples popping in his cheeks. "Hey mystery girl. If you ever realize my brother's a loser, name's Liam. My number's on the-" Wyatt's voice was on the edge of yelling. "We aren't-Liam go away-I'm just looking for-" Suddenly, it hit me what they were suggesting. And I burst. Out. Laughing. I laughed so hard I nearly snorted, putting my hand to my mouth to quiet the giggles. I laughed so long that all the boys stopped to stare at me. "You thought-me and WYATT??" I broke off, laughing harder. "I'm glad you find this so amusing." Wyatt said sourly, staring at the wall like it had kicked his dog. That only made me laugh harder. "Wait-so you're not?" Liam asked, brows crunched. Wyatt shook his head, but he gave his brother a look I couldn't interpret. "We're in class together. Where's Mom?" I finally wrapped up my giggles, trying not to look at Wyatt to trigger them again. The thought was beyond ridiculous.
Wyatt and I could not be any more different. I was raised to attend fancy parties and movie premiers. I know every bit of social etiquette you could ever need to know. More, probably. And Wyatt? Well...he was raised here. Not even mentioning the fact that no one in this universe irks me more. "She's in the living room." One of the twins-Dylan maybe?-looked at me. "I can take you if you want." "Thank you. But no." Wyatt said before I could even consider what to say. He made a shooing motion at me. "Down the hall to the right. I'll be there in a second." I gave him a look. It wasn't the pretty one, or the 'you can't possibly be this stupid' one. No this was the 'are you seriously going to let me wander around here alone with your never-ending spawn of brothers?' I hope he got all that. Considering his intelligence level, it's doubtful. Wyatt shooed me again and I started down the hallway, irritated at being dismissed. But after a moment of harsh whispers, he appeared back at my side, expression stormy. I waited. He sighed. "I have a lot of brothers." I snorted. "No kidding." "They're...well not exactly 'nice' once you get to know them but at least more polite." Wyatt looked awkward. "Uh...sorry about that." I faltered, glancing over at him. I didn't know what to do with that. I don't think he'd ever apologized to me, or I to him before. But today felt different. We were in uncharted territory. And it was time to figure out what that meant. "I can handle a few boys." I said, feeling the need to reestablish the pecking order. Where he gets frustrated with me and I get annoyed at him. Familiar ground. "That's actually my specialty." I grinned and tugged a lock of hair over his eyes. He stared at me. I turned and strode down the corridor, leaving him to pause and then stomp behind me. Familiar territory. Chapter 3: Wyatt Summer School Journal: I cannot survive a whole summer with her. I cannot. I refuse. No one ever listens to me. Why do I even have a voice? Saturday, June 6th "No. No way." I spoke firm. Steady. As immovable as a stone wall. "Wyatt!" My mother chided. "That's not polite. We have to be hospitable!" "No, Mom! We're not letting her-" "Wyatt. James. Carter." Nothing makes you blush like being scolded in front of your nemesis. With your full name. Your full name. I went very quiet. "Of course you may, dear. You can stay in the guest bedroom-we'll make sure none of the boys bother you." "Thank you, ma'am." Liv said quietly, eyes on her hands as she sat. I glared at her. "If your mother's so rich, why can't she just hire a nanny or something?" I might've imagined it, but I'm pretty sure Liv blushed. My mom, on the other hand? Blew a fuse. "Wyatt! I have /never/ seen you behave like this. You should be ashamed of yourself." I duck my head. I blush a thousand times brighter. "Yes, mother." The worst part is? I'm very, very ashamed. I don't act like this. Not normally. Sure, I yell at my brothers and complain about cleaning up after Darce and things, but... I've always been the polite child. The peacemaker. The people pleaser. The doormat. I like making people happy. That's the problem. Sometimes, I think that if someone told me they would love me if I set my head on fire, I'd be up in flames on the spot. Maybe it's something about being the last. In everything. Sometimes the youngest children get spoiled or get big egos because of the attention. That...doesn't really happy in a family of six. By the time I turned three, I was basically raised by my brothers and the animals. Don't get me wrong, my parents are amazing. But once I was old enough to not need them every second, they had other things to worry about. I'm the sucker of the family. The school too. Probably the world. In third grade, Linsey Arrold asked if she could borrow my goldfish. I got the cereal box she buried him in two days later. In sixth grade, Nic Owens asked me to turn myself in for v4nd4lizing the building, because he didn't want to miss his little sister's show because of detention. He forgot to mention that he didn't have a little sister. My first ever 'relationship' (if you can call it that) basically consisted of me bending over backwards for Grace Wilders. I think she thought of me more as a dog than a person. All this to say, I felt awful about what I said. But that's the thing. Olivia Ashlen is the only person in my life I've ever snapped at. The only person that I don't care what she thinks of me. Part of me hates the feeling. I feel awful and cruel. But another part of me...feels a little free. And now, because her mother has a big shoot in Paris, I have the whole entire summer to figure out what the heck that means. Because I get to spend the summer with Olivia Ashlen. And my five brothers. And several cows, three horses, eight goats and seventeen chickens. And a Labrador Retriever. *Sigh* At the very least, it should be entertaining. Next: Nope First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1329249310 (Ping for moreeee)
