10.5: A Walnut Allergy and That Jock Guy

   "Hadley did you pack the Adele CD- what are you doing?!" I asked, opening the door to her sparsely furnished room. As soon as she graduated in May, she was planning on going to NYC, where she'd been accepted in NY3C's, New York City Community College, fashion design program. She was posing promiscuously in her hot pink bikini, her hair curled, her makeup too thick, in front of a camera.

   "Oh, like you can judge. You're in sweats, you hair's a mess, you've been, like, weeping over, like, your ex-boyfriend for months."
   "It hasn't been months, my hair always looks like this, and I was just wanting to know what your doing and ask, uh, have you ever considered not?"
   "Ugh, God, like are you stupid?"

   "I like to think my 4.2 GPA and ACT score, prove otherwise... Do you have the Adele CD? I need to burn it to iTunes so I can get it on my iPhone and listen to it while eating that ice cream mum bought."
   "Fine, since your so pathetic and your life's, like, ohmigawd, stupidly dull, I'll tell you what I'm doing."
   "I- CD, please."
   "Okay, so this weirdo who smells was able to hack ACT's website and he raised my score! That's how I got into NY3C, so this is like a, like, thank you."
   "Thank God you didn't bother thanking me when I did your English essay."
   "I only do it for people I know appreciate a hot girl."
   "I'd hate to see your attire and pose when someone actually does something that makes your grade decent, not that raising your ACT score seven points to a sixteen isn't valedictorian worthy."
   "Ugh, look I've only done this... The quarterback, that one nerd, that other nerd, that geek, the chess team, the basketball all star, the swim team captain, the guy who sits across from my in Algebra 2... That's only twelve this semester, plus last semester and junior year..."
   "Do mom and dad know?" She stared at me for a few seconds, before laughing- cackling, perhaps,  would be a better word to describe the noise that she emitted.
   "Ya, right. Like I'd tell them."
   "What if someone leaks your pictures?" She rolled her eyes, before the camera's flash went off, capturing her magnificently putrid attitude and my lack of enthusiasm for said attitude.
   "I don't know where your CD is. Besides, who uses CDs anymore?" She replied, ignoring the question.
   "I'll listen to the Mowgli's instead." I turned, before I heard her shrill insult.
   "Uh, pity party much?"
   "The Mowgli's are kinda upbeat and wonderfu-"
   "Shh! Interrupting? Look, you're pathetic and ugh, I mean, are you sure your hair always is that ugly?"
   "I'm positive and might I add, gee, thanks, I'm flattered."
   "OMG. I wasn't done! I have a friend, well, not friend. He's totally hitting on me and he plays, like, football or whaterver. Basketball? A ball thing game. And I've set you up."
   "Pardon?" I asked, turning back to face her. "Set me up, as in a date?"
   "He's super smart, he has like a twenty-two on the ACT."
   "Call, Einstein! I think we've met someone-"
   "Ugh, I know right? Anyways, meet him at That One Place."
   "Which place?"

   "That One Place. The new, trendy place, they only take cash, we went once and you were all bitchy cause you wanted the Italian vinaigrette with your salad but they only did low-cal, organic, lavender, mint walnut dressing."
   "Considering that I've got a tree nut allergy, despite it being rather mild and manageable I still try to avoid eating walnuts."
   "Ugh, just go. Four, okay?"
   "No, thanks."
   "Like, whateves, you're going."
   "I-"
   "Nope, or whatever. You're going."

__________________

   "Twenty-two..." He said, looking as if he was struggling. Our date had been an awkward one, That One Place hadn't had any allergen friendly foods, he refused to pay, despite me only having a bottled water, then, for fun, he suggested we hit up his favorite LA gym. So far, the afternoon hadn't been worth changing out of my sweats into a skirt.
   "Look, I think I'm going to go, you seem a bit preoccupied."
   "Wait, you haven't seen me do pushups yet."
   "I think, while it may be challenging, I'll live without seeing you sweat while on the ground."
   "That's what she said."
   "That's not even relevant here." I sighed, staring at him. Sure, I hadn't really gotten to know Vance, and it had been very award at Remy's wedding, since he was the best man and I was a bridesmaid, but at least we had our geekery in common.
   "Look, Russo-"
   "Ryelynn."

   "Okay, Gluten, you said you liked astronomy." He stopped lifting waits and walked over to me.
   "Physics."
   "Well, my dad donates a lot of money to this one research company, they do, like, quantum physics crap-"
   "It isn't crap."
   "Whatever. And I could get you an internship."
   "Really?" I gasped.
   "Yeah, I mean, I want your sister to send me one of her pics, but other than that, yeah."
   "I think... If she's okay with it, a bikini shot."
   "Alrighty! And I need you to do my college essay."
   "Seriously?" I looked at him. "Anymore catches?"
   "Nah..."
   "Promise?"
   "Uh... Yeah."
   "Thanks." I sighed, but what could I say? An internship was an internship and I was dying to get one.

NOTE: I've published two chapters of With Love, my new legacy, also The Mowgli's are a real, amazing band that I love. I recommend listening to their album Waiting For the Dawn.

Guess What! (Big News!)

   Guess what! No, seriously guess. Done guessing? You never guessed? You just want me to tell you the ne- ahem- the big news? *long, drawn out sigh* Fiiiinnne. I've created a new story! That's right your favorite (and very modest, might I add) author who's created a multitude of failed stories, excluding this legacy, has a new story! I promise you, it won't fail, because a) I'm successful with legacies and b) It happens to be a legacy. Since I'm on the Janes' last generation and I've managed to publish four chapters within a week or two, I figured I needed something to keep me from posting the whole generation in January, therefore With Love was born. Hopefully you'll click the link and check it out, I'm rather excited about it!

xo,
TheJanesLegacy

P.S. Can we start calling me TJ or Jill? I don't want to give out my real name because blah blah I'm part of that generation where everyone actually owning a computer and being able to use the internet was fairly new and everything and ohmygosh you'll be hunted down, kidnapped, and murdered if you give out your first name. So, yeah. Call me TJ (the first two letters of TJL which is an acronym for TheJanesLegacy, so essentially TheJanes) or Jill (what I think the second two letters of TJL, JL, JanesLegacy, sounds like). There'll be a poll.

10.4: Revelations

 WARNING: A bit of innuendos/promiscuous content ahead.

   "It should be in here..." I said, glancing around my parents' bedroom, for dad's copy of I, Robot.
   "Rye, if you don't see it, it's okay." Vance said, nervously. "I thought it's be neat to see, but-"
   "You're just scared that you'll be caught in a bedroom that's door is closed door with your girlfriend." I said, chuckling slightly, taking his hands.
   "Can you blame me? The three men in your family have all promised to kick my arse if I hurt you or mess around with you."
   "Trust me, daddy's bark is worse than his bite, Felix wouldn't hurt a fly, and Chester's in Chicago with that modeling gig."
   "I think you're underestimating them."
   "Aw, your so cute when your worried." We'd been dating for almost seven months and I was still in utter bliss. "I can't believe you're going to the UK for college... I'll hardly get to see you."
   "Don't sulk, I'll come home every chance I get."
   "I know..." I sighed. "Hey, maybe when I visit I'll get to see some Harry Potter or Doctor Who sites."
   "Maybe." He agreed, glancing around.
   "They're not going to come looking for us, they think we're packing up Had's room while she's off at that friend of hers."
   "Which friend?"
   "Blonde, bitchy, named Madison or Samantha."
   "Isn't that the whole cheer leading team?"
   "Adorable, smart, will fangirl with me over books, James Bond, comics, Freaks and Geeks... And people wonder why we date."
   "We'll keep dating, even when I'm in college, too. Don't worry; long distance will totally work."
   "It will!" I full heartedly agreed. People may presume from our matching 4.2 GPAs, ACT scores, love of all things science- except for physiology and geology- and geekery that we'd be a very logical, factually couple, however they should learn not to be presumptuous; I was seventeen, he was eighteen, we were teenagers who thought that our first love would be our only love, an eternal love. We leaned forward, our bodies melding together as we kissed.

   "I can't believe it..."
   "Did you here that?" Vance whispered, breaking away from me. "Someone's in the hallway."
   "My mother and father."
   "What are we doing to do? Oh, God! I'm too young to die! I have college and-"
   "Shh, calm down. They'll hear you. If we're quiet, maybe they won't come in."
   "But, I, death! Arse kicking." He kept sputtering on, a panic jumbled mess of syllables, so I leaned forward, kissing him once more, which aptly shut him up.
   "We'll get in the wardrobe." I gestured to it, as we quietly scuttled to it, like mice. Just as I'd shut the doors, I heard the bedroom door open, my parents in the midst of their conversation.
   "-empty nest. Xavier, soon it'll just be me and you."
   "Oh, oh, it's alright, look, don't cry? I'm sad too, but think about this, we've given them the roots they need to support themselves, now they have to grow wings and fly away, but their roots will always keep them coming home."
   "You're right."
   "And they'll still visit us."

   "I-I know, but married life?"I glanced through the keyhole, seeing my father holding mother.
   "Married life?" I whispered to Vance. "Who's getting married?"
   "I dunno." I heard a dress hanging on a metal hanger rustle, as he scooted closer to me. I felt him reach his hand out for me, probably trying to hold it, however it wasn't the hand that was squeezed. "Second base in the wardrobe." I murmured, amused.
   "Sorry!"
   "Just, calm down, let's go prepare dinner, they'll be here in an hour." I heard the door open, the squeak shut, as Vance moved his hand away from me.
   "Shh, I didn't say stop." He continued, before we knew it, I'd managed to quietly remove my green t-shirt and his pants. We kept kissing, squeezing, as it elevated, soon we were both bare. They say when you make love, if you could call what we were chaotically doing that, your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces destined to click, however with us it was the complete opposite. If was messy, sweaty, his hand caught on my hoop earring, causing me to let out a small shriek, and not one of pleasure. When we finally did reach that one moment, he had to cover my mouth with his hand, which I accidentally bit, which caused him to be even more turned on. It was awkward, weird, and dark, yet simultaneously wonderful, since I loved Vance.
   "That was something else." He said, his breaths deep, husky.
   "It... Indeed. We probably should go back to Hadley's room, finish packing it up before they get suspicious."
   "Alright..."

________________

   "We have a big announcement!" Remy said, standing next to Zander, the boyfriend she had sneaked out to meet three years ago, when I was selling lemonade.
   "You're, like, pregnant?" Hadley asked.
   "No." Remy sighed, her smile appearing to be much more forced. "Hadley, I'm not."
   "Oh... This is boring."

   "Anyway," she continued, "I'm getting married! Eek!" She hugged Zander, whose face was the dictionary definition of blissful joy.
   "I proposed last night, so we haven't worked out any of the details, the wedding probably won't be until both of us finish college, but we're very excited. We do know one, thing, though, I want Vance to be my best man."
   "Huh?" I asked, taken aback. He was my boyfriend, why would my sister's fiancee want him to be the best man at his wedding? "Why?"
   "Rye!" My mother exclaimed. "Don't be rude, besides it makes sense."
   "How?" I calmly asked.
   "You're joking, right?" Vance looked at me funny, from across the room.
   "Yeeaah. Joking." I nervously looked at Hadley, who seemed to be enjoying my confusion a bit too much.
   "Rem's baby daddy-"
   "I am NOT pregnant! We aren't even going to move in together until after the wedding."
   "Whateves. He's your geek's brother."

   "Pardon?" I said, wishing that I could travel through time and space, so I wasn't here and I also had bothered learning about my boyfriend's family relations.
   "You didn't know?" Vance asked. "Can we step out in the hall?" I nodded, standing up, as my family's eyes followed me.
   "So..." I started, once we were alone. "My sister's marrying your brother."
   "How could you not know? Did you not pay attention? That was one of the first things I said to you when we went to get milkshakes on Remy's graduation day. You asked who I was with, I said Zander Kapaldi, you said that names sounds familiar, I said yeah, so does Janes, then we realized he was dating your sister and Felix's friend."
   "Huh."
   "Do you listen to me? How much about me do you know?"
   "A lot! In-"
   "That doesn't involve general geekery."
   "Your name's Vance. You wear glasses."
   "What's my last name? Am I near or far sighted?"
   "Well, you just said your last name. It starts with a... C or K. And you can't see things that are either far away or close up."
   "I know your favorite color, that embarrassing story from third grade, who your first celebrity and non-celebrity crushes were, the first comic book you owned, I know what animal you would be, what you want to be reincarinated as, that you want to travel forward in time-"
   "Okay, okay, you know more about me then I do about you. So? I love you."
   "You barely know anything about me! What college am I going to?"
   "It's... It's in the UK."
   "What am I studying?"
   "Stuff... Look, please don't be upset."
   "Rye, I don't want to be, but I feel like you haven't been paying attention to me at all! I'm leaving to go to college and I'm not sure if long distance is the best things for us. I thought we were serious, but... I don't know."
   "We had sex in my parent's wardrobe, how much more serious can ya get?"

   "Really? Look, I think maybe we should reevaluate our relationship."
   "Reevaluate? As in- No! Please, don't." I loved him so much, I thought I knew things about him, but I suppose I only knew the things that involved things I could fangirl about.
   "I'm sorry." He shrugged. "Hey, with the wedding and all, we'll be brother and sister in-law, that might have gotten awkward." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
   "Not yet." I said, grumpily. My first ex-boyfriend. My first love. My first time. My first brother in-law. This, for lack of a better phrase, blows.

10.3: A Date? My Sister? Sure, Why Not?

   "Hey, Rye, I've got a show at seven-thirty, do you wanna come?" Chester asked, as I sat on my beanbag chair in my room, reading. When Felix graduated and moved out, I still had to share a room with Hadley, because the two boys shared a room, since there were only four bedrooms in our home, however after Chester moved out, Hadley moved into his old bedroom and had dad and mum paint it pink. Then, when Remy moved out, to go to uni, Hadley moved into her already pink bedroom, which was slightly smaller then hers, so mum and daddy could make it into an office slash home gym.
   "Sure..." I said, looking up from my book. "Where is it?"
   "Fluke, that small run down club. A record company rep's suppose to be there, we're hoping 63 to 7 will be discovered."
   "You changed the name?"
   "Twenty-First Centruy Screw Ups didn't represent our style that well."
   "Ah." I said, skimming the page of my novel. It was decent, written by an up and coming scifi author, however it didn't compare to the classics.
   "It was 63 to 7 or Panic and Hell Hounds."
   "Panic and Hell Hounds sounds edgy."
   "63 to 7 isn't good?"

   "Oh, oh, that's not what I meant! I like it, it's just not as catchy."
   "Dammit, I'll call Cam, we'll redo the posters."
   "No, no- I didn't." I said, feeling horrid. "Besides, your name doesn't matter, it's the music that counts."
   "True. Anyway, I've got two tickets and I wanted you to come."
   "Aw, that's so sweet, thank you. Can I bring a date?"

   "A Date? My sister? Sure, why not? But I'll kick his-"
   "If he messes up, no need for language." I smiled, feeling flattered that my big brother was so protective of me, though I doubted he'd get to actually kick anything, considering that the date I had in mind was Vance. Since our first date in May, we'd studied together, gone to the comic book stored, talked during school, however it was September and we hadn't gone on an official second date yet.

_________________

   "Your brother's band is good, thanks for inviting me."
   "No problem, I figured that it was about time for a second date."
   "A sec- da- us date?"
   "Erh, I was counting the chess and milkshakes in May as I date. Sorry, I didn't mean-"
   "No, no, don't apologize! You're intelligent and pretty and you listen to my rants about which comic book villains could beat each other and help me apply for colleges, it's just, I feel like I should be the one asking you out."

   "We're not in the 1800's, girls can ask boys out." I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my virgin cosmopolitan.
   "I know... But, um, do you wanna go steady?"
   "Steady-like serious?" My heart began beating quicker, I'd never had a serious boyfriend, yet I liked him. "Alright."

________________

  "How was the performance?" Chester asked, standing in front of the club.
  "Great! Did the rep like you?"
  "Yeah..."
   "That's wonderful, why do you sound so glum?"
   "She liked me, but not the rest of the band. Or the band at all."
   "Solo career?"
   "No... Not music."

   "Then what?" I asked, curiously, befuddled. How could she like Chester, but not like the band, not like the music, and not want him to have a solo career?
   "Modeling."
   "Modeling? You?"
   "She's married to some big department store co-executive guy and wants me to interview with him."
   "That's... A career." I tried to thread carefully. "I mean, extra cash flow's good, while you're working on your bachelor's and stuff." He was taking online courses, trying to earn a bachelor's in instrumental and acoustical engineering.
   "The headquarters are in Chicago. She wants to fly me to Illinois. Illinois!"
   "So you won't take the opportunity?"
   "I don't know... I mean, the band's not doing well, maybe I need to do this. I could be a model."
   "You'd certainly be a chick magnet." I giggled.
   "Which is why we started the band and I could still play for fun or tips or something... Maybe, maybe I will."
   "You could still." I agreed. "You should do what's best." I said.
   "You're right." He agreed, hugging me. "Thank you, Rye."

10.2: Geeks and Graduations

   "Okay, okay, everybody stand still!" Mom exclaimed, ushering us into position. "Four seconds..." The camera's timer was counting down, as we glanced around, mom standing behind the sofa next to Chester, who was next to dad, who was next to Felix. I sat on the left side of the sofa, Remy was on the right, and Hadley was in the middle, between us.
   Click! The flash went off, as I attempted to smile pleasantly.
   "How's the photo look, Hadley?" Dad asked, as she stood up, glancing at the small screen.
   "Well, ohmigawd, my hair look fab."
   "And the rest of us?" Remy asked, irritated. We'd been attempting to take a photo of us on her graduation day for half an hour, so far none of us had managed to look at the camera, have our eyes open, and smile simultaneously.

   "May I see?" I asked, standing up, as Hadley fluffed her hair, handing my the camera. "We aren't looking at it!"
   "Well, it has to do, can we get going, please? I don't want to be late to my own graduation."
   "Relax, Remy." Hadley said. "I need to look good in this photo, it isn't all about you."
   "That's ironic." Felix muttered. "Beside, Rem's right, we gotta get there, plus I have a customer at three."
   "I need to look!" The middle sister cried out, stomping her foot.
   "Your hair looks good, honey." Mom said. "Surely that's enough? Next year, we'll be taking a picture on your graduation day, the year after we'll be taking one for Ryelynn... Oh." She sniffled. "My babies are all grown up... I think I'm going to need tissues, Xavier, would you please-?"
   "Of course, darling." He said, kissing her cheek, before turning to go grab Kleenex from the bathroom.

___________________

   "That valedictorian's speech was rather..." A moderately attractive man with thick, black rimmed glasses said.
   "Pardon?" I asked, turning to face him, smiling.
   "Oh, I was just saying the veledictorian's speech-"
   "God, I'd rather be tied down and forced to watch The Phantom Menace then sit trhough that pain in the butt speech again."

   "I mean the first three episodes should be considered homicide, they slaughter the story so horridly."
   "Right?! Any self respecting Star Wars fan should agree."
   "Precisely. I'm Vance Kapaldi, by the way."
   "Ryelynn Janes, nice to meet you." We shook hands, his grip was firm, he made eye contact; a decent handshake, something my father said was important. When you're in a business meeting, your first impression doesn't come from your dress or how you introduce yourself, but from your handshake.
   "Janes... sounds familiar. Do you want, to erhm, I mean, uh, maybe, do you eat food?"
   "Yes." I said, chuckling slightly, presuming I'd know what he'd ask next. "I'm guessing you do as well, maybe you want to eat some with me?"
   "Sure! You're not busy, I saw your family?"

   "Oh, Remy, my sister, wants to go out with her boyfriend, my brother has to do a quick checkup on a car at his automotive shop, my other brother has a band practice, then we're all going to go to that Italian restaurant on fifth that was featured in the paper to celebrate around seven, so I've got time."
   "Great." He smiled

________________

   "Best out of seven?" I asked, looking down at the chess pieces. We'd gone to a diner, gotten milkshakes and curly fries, then, seeing the quaint park across the street, decided to play a few rounds of chess. We'd played five games, I'd won two and lost three.
   "If we keep doing best out of odd numbers, you'll miss dinner with your family." He said.
   "You're just happy that you won."
   "Wouldn't you?"

   "I suppose." I shrugged. "Congratulations." I clapped my hands together.
   "Thank you." He said, standing up, taking my hands. "You're very interesting, Ryelynn Janes."
   "Why thank you."
   "And I've had a very pleasant afternoon."
   "As have I..." I leaned forward, closer to him. We were centimeters from him, the guy who was in Hadley's grade, was a huge chess fan and loved Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Issac Asimov with the same passion I did. I looked at his lips, wondering if this is when we were suppose to kiss. This was my first date, this would be my first kiss.

   "Er, don't you have to go?" He pulled away.
   "Oh, yes! I do, I mean, yeah." I looked at my feet, blushing. "Thank you for the entertainment... And the chess lessons."
   "My pleasure, maybe we could, you know, again, you know, this, do it?"
   "I'd like that." And with that, I turned away, heading off to the restaurant, hoping I'd see the adorable geek named Vance again.

10.1: Lemonade Sales and Sisters

   I glumly stood at the lemonade stand, staring into the empty glass jar. I'd been standing her since morning, yet no one had come by, interested in paying seventy-five cents for lemonade. The only person that's passed me all morning was Chester, who was going to band practice; I think their name was Twenty-First Century Screw Ups, however they changed it so much, from Double X 12, to Sock Monkey Scream, to Flying Potato, to Dirty Sneakers, so I wasn't sure. I'd told mum I didn't want her or daddy to micromanage the stand, I knew that she loved coming up with proposals for expansions and drawing logos and creating slogans and he could strategically find the best place on the block, but I didn't want their help; I was in eighth grade for goodness' sake, I could run a tiny lemonade stand on my own.

   "Ryelynn!" I heard the shrill cry of my older, ninth grade sister and knew her face would be twisted into a look of disdain, without even having to turn around.
   "Yes, Hadley?"
   "You're blocking the entryway, ugh, my friends are coming over to my annual end of the school year sleepover, they don't need to see you."
   "And the potential customers don't need to hear you." I shot back, hearing her pad down the porch steps. "I'm trying to earn money for Comic Con in San Diego."

   "Look..." She said, staring off into the distance, over my right shoulder. "I know you're, like, mega, like, unpopular and that has to be hard, because I'm your, like, sister, but whateves, okay? You can't live your social life through me and my friends."
   "I have a social life; just because I'm not going to the pre- and post- football parties don't have a ton of guys, most who are from my grade might I add, asking me out on parental accompanied dates doesn't mean I don't have friends, I have several good ones."
   "Just don't talk to them, okay?"
   "No worries." I said, turning back to the stand.

   "Made any money?" I heard my other sister, Remy, who must have rushed out of the house when Hadley and I were having our tiff.
   "Sadly I haven't."
   "Tragic story." Hadley added under her breath.
   "Where are you headed off to?" I asked my eldest sister.
   "I was just gonna drive to the hospital, do a bit of volunteering."
   "Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. She never wore shorts to volunteer, usually it was a nicer blouse and a skirt or slacks, she never volunteered on weekends, also ever since she got her license three months ago she hadn't driven herself to volunteer, she said that the patrons of the hospital were reckless drivers and they might scratch her cherry red, two seats smart car.
   "Yeah..." She trailed off, looking from me to Hadley, who was examining her nails. "Come over her." She took my arm, leading me to the side of the house.

   "What are you really doing?"
   "Shh! Don't speak so loud, Hadley might overhear, you know how vindictive she gets."
   "Sorry." I whispered.
   "I'm not volunteering, I... I have a meeting."
   "A meeting?"
   "At the diner, with a guy."
   "What type of guy?" I asked, curiously. Hadley was a serial dater, if you even call what she did dating, she decided whoever was the most popular fourteen year old at the moment was her boyfriend, they'd hold hands in the hallway, eat lunch together, and that was pretty much it.
   "A friend of our brother's."
   "Oo! A band member?"
   "Not that brother."
   "One of Felix's friends? But he's enrolled in Los Angeles Community College." He was on his second and last year of study to earn an associate's in automotive technology, he wanted to run his own car repair shop and mom and dad, who both went to college, were pretty persistent about the fact that all five us were going to seek some variety of higher education.
   "I know..."
   "You're going on a date with a twenty year old?! You're sixteen."
   "Yeah, well I'll be a junior soon, so..."
   "Does that guy know your age? This is creepy, what if he's a pedophile?"
   "He's nineteen he doesn't know my age and this is why I was sneaking out. Look, we're going to be in a public space, if things seem to be going in a creepy, illegal direction I'll get out of there ASAP and tell mom and dad what happened."
   "Okay..."
   "Trust me, I asked Felix a thousand questions about him and he seems like a nice guy. Honestly. Besides, this is my first date-date, please let me go on it."
   "If Felix was wrong, you know what daddy's going to do to him and his friend, right?" I smiled. Daddy loved playing Mr. Tough Guy whenever the idea of his daughters dating came up.
   "Thank you." She said, hugging me.

10.0: The One With the Missing Shoes

  "How's this?" I laughed, holding up the video camera, filming Hadley spin around in her white and rose, lacy party dress.
   Hadley was, without a doubt, the social child out of me and my five siblings. She was the most girly, the one who insisted on owning a pair of shoes in at least two shades of every color, the one who spent an hour curling her hair, trying to maintain her position as seventh grade queen bee, which is weird, if you ask me, cause it's middle school.
   "No! No, ugh, you're not getting my good angle. I have to send this in to TEEN Fab Fashion mag, you're obviously not, like the right one to get it."
   "You're twelve." I pointed out. "Twelve doesn't end with teen."
   "So? If I send in my fashionable party look, I might get to go to NYC and do stuff."
   "What kind of stuff?"

   "Who cares? Only Jaynleigh Smithers has gone and she thinks she's so cool cause of it, this will take her down a notch." This is why I think it's so weird she's so competitive about her social status; my friends shift every school year, based off of who I have classes with, besides if you do something embarrassing, nobody remembers next week, why try so hard when you can focus on funner things?
   "Isn't Jaynleigh your friend?"
   "I have to be the most popular out of the group. Ashley gets it, so does Scarlet, Marie, and Olivianna. She doesn't."
   "Hadley." I heard mom say, before she entered our bedroom. "Are you ready to go?"
   "Almost." She twirled around once more, before gesturing to me to shut down the camera.

   "We have to get going, your father and I have an important business meeting at ten-thirty." She smiled, looking closer at my sister's face. "Are you wearing makeup?"
   "Yeah, just mascara, lip gloss, blush, and eyeliner, though."
   "Honey, you know I think your too young."
   "Mooom." She groaned, as I stifled a giggle; Hadley had this weird way of speaking that made her sound like she knew more than our parents, yet at the same time the way showed how she didn't. "You do."
   "Yes, well, I'm an adult. It's only because I want you to grow up and feel comfortable with your skin-"
   "Blah, yeah, blah, blah, if we don't we can talk to you or dad. Got it." Mom looked sad; she always talked about how she was there for us, about anything, so was daddy, and she seemed to have a reason for telling us that I didn't know the details about.
   "C'mon." She cheered up, taking her hand. "Dad's in the car, with the present. You have Janie-"
   "Jaynleigh!"
   "Jaynleigh's address, right? I'd hate for you to be late to her birthday party."
   "I do, God." She rolled her eyes, walking out of the room.
   "Ryelynn, Remy's volunteering at the hospital, CHester is practicing with the band at Cameron's, and Felix is out back working on a car. If you need anything, tell him, okay? Your dad and I should be back in no more than two hours."
   "Okay, mum, thanks." I smiled, as she walked over to me, kissing the top of my head. "Oh! And thanks for the music box."
   "What music box?" She asked, looking kinda confused- quizzical, my English teacher would say.
   "When I woke up it was on the table."
   "Hmm... It must be one of daddy's surprises for you, you know how he loves surprises."
   "Ooh..." I began pondering- another word my English teach liked- what it meant. Daddy had great surprises, maybe there was a new book in it, a comic, or something Star Wars or Trek related.
   "I have to go, I love you." Mummy called, as she sashayed into the hallway.

   I ran over to the music box, picked it up, and wound it up, excitedly. I loved mummy and daddy equally, but daddy was special. Mum didn't understand my fascination with Marvel or the Lord of the Rings or Issac Asimov or Neil deGrasse Tyson or Doctor Who, yet daddy inspired the fascination and fueled it. When the lid popped open, I gasped. A note was tapped to the top.

   "Ryie," I read- this note was from daddy, that was his nickname for me, "Prepare yourself, because the theater is having a Hobbit marathon! Get ready for eight hours of Tolkein, starting at one. Love, dad. Ohmygawsh!" I shrieked; I'd never seen the Hobbit movies, but I'd wanted to since the newest one came out.
   I needed to get ready, even though I had time, I wanted to now. I shut the music box, running into the hallway. I needed to find my shoes, where were they? I knew that I hadn't left them in the hall closet where we were suppose to and they weren't in my room.

   Eagerly, I perched myself on the spiral staircases' banister, ready to slid down. Dad said I shouldn't do it, since I could fall and hurt myself, so I didn't... When they were around. When they weren't, and none of my siblings could see and tattle on me, I did it anyways. So far I haven't gotten hurt, so I didn't think I would.

   Maybe my shoes would be in the kitchen? I had the terrible tendency of just dropping my possessions when I had an idea and rushing off, not remembering the location of the dropped things. Glancing inside the cabinets, in the sink, microwave, and garbage can, yet I didn't find them.

   "Dang it." I sighed, looking at the clock. At least I had two and a half hours to find them.

  I wandered into the dining room, not finding them here either. In fourth grade when we had to do a book report, my friend picked Ramona Quimby, Age 8, another kid picked The Cat In the Hat, another picked Nancy Drew, I picked The Hobbit. I guess saying that I liked things people consider geeky would be an understatement. I also didn't think geeky was an insult, it was like saying "Haha, you really like things." and I loved people recognizing that I really loved things.
   "Maybe they're in there." I said, speaking to no one in particular.

   The dress up chest, which was filled with Hadley's old princess costumes- she now considered dressing up like fantasy things babyish- and my astronaut and wizard costumes could easily be someplace I'd mindlessly drop my sandals.

  "Yay!" I exclaimed, finding them. beneath a pink veil. I'd found my shoes, now there was only a few other things to do before an entertaining movie marathon.

Side Note: Can you guess which TV show (that I'm currently binge watching on Netflix) is a reference to?

Bit of Boring Five: Jesse DiLonni

There are a few words, such as b***h or s**t that are used, so read with caution. This is told from the point of view of Jesse DiLonni, the talk show host from chapter 3.3 Part two.

 "Can you believe it?!" I shrieked, holding up the tabloid. Daniel, my stage manager had been arrested. This was terrible; the viewers loved Madame G and since he was dating her, I thought it would be easy to get her back on the show, but now it seemed doubtful.
 "Calm down, calm down." My red headed, tattooed makeup artist said. "Your cheeks aren't rosy enough..."
 "Don't tell me to calm down! Who will the producers get for the next episode? The bitchy slutty reality stars are getting old, at least she had a personality."
 "Shh."
 "SHH." I mocked her, rolling my eyes. I had my makeup done a hundred times; I knew it didn't matter if I talked or not, she just wanted me quiet.
 "We're on in five-"
 "Have to go." I said, standing up, pushing her away. I slid onto my seat, plastering a fake smile onto my face so the camera could see my recently bleached pearly whites.
  "Three, two-"
 "Hey, guys! I'm Jessa DiLonni and this is Starlight, where we know stars. Today we have a gorgeous guest who recently released a makeup line called Hot Harlet that you can buy today! Give it up for Hayleigh Hanson!" Someone hit the applause button as the prerecorded claps sounded, as the fake tan, bleached blonde star of Hanson Hills, a show starring Hayleigh, her twin sister, her step-mom, half brother, and twin niece and nephew, as they roamed around Beverly Hills, sauntered onto the set.
 "Ohmygawd. Like, you're hair, like blue streaks, yay."
 "Great to have you." I said, having difficulty mustering up the enthusiasm to.
 "Ohmigawd. Like, I know."
 "Okkay, then. So, word on the street is you're dating a Calvin Klein model. Is it true?"
 "Haha! Ohmigawd, like, no."
 "Oo, is there a different, special someone?"
 "Like, we aren't dating, cause, we are like, this is, ohmigawd, huge secret that's gonna be revealed on the season finale next Monday at ten-thirty, like, ohmigawd, we're engaged!"
 "Wow! Congratulations, have you set a date?"
 "Duh, like, ohmigawd, July."
 "What day?"
 "July."
 "But- nevermind, okya, let's take some questions from viewers on social media."
 "Follow me! At QueenHayleighHanson."
 "Okay, everybody go do that. Now, from MrSmooth13: Are you pregnant?"
 "What? Like, ohmigawd, no. This body is too pretty to ruin with a bitchy child." Wonderful; half my viewers were in their late teens or early twenties, the other portion were stay at home parents who yearned to have an outlet while the kids were napping.
  "Next question, from xx_EmoGothRainbowUnicornFarts_xx: like U R HAWT but UR sisterz marriage faILED BAAAAAAAAAAAADz it last two weeks then annulled, whats?"
 "Hehehe."
 "Err- next question for you to answer, please, from 12BellaIsGross2: y u vain?"
 "Huh?"
 "The question is: y u vain?"
  "Vain like as in- THAT IS B to the A to the D."
  "Erh-" She stood up, stomping her foot. Wonderful; I needed to have a great episode to keep ratings up, but first I had to deal with the over dramatic guest.

And the Generation Heir Is...

Ryelynn! With six votes, she will be the last generation heir. (Remy had five, Hadley had four, Chester had two, and Felix had none.) Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll here, as well as on the forums; I appreciate it. Ryelynn's story *may* be a bit different from generations past, I'm trying to work things out, either way the chapter will be out shortly.

The Fourth Bit of Boring: Wren

 NOTE: This post features Wren from generation seven. Please skim that generation and maybe BoB two and three before reading this.

   I was on my side, eyelids heavy, staring at the clock. I had been in and out of my comatose state I fondly referred to as sleep ever since I laid down close to midnight. I so often used the coma metaphor, sue to the particular fact that I either woke up because my fellow trailer trash neighbors dropped a Spam can's plastic label onto the ground or I'd sleep through Manowar, a band that claimed they were the loudest ones ever, concert; when it came to sleep I was either an incredibly light sleeper, or incredibly heavy one.

   Must fall asleep... must fall asleep... I was left with two hours were it wasn't socially acceptable to do anything other than be a workaholic sealing some million dollar deal or fast asleep. Six am. Just fall asleep for two more hours, than you can start your day at six. I found it amusing that I planned when I was going to arise so closely, when I had no job or any obligations at all. Ever since the theys, thems, theirs, I couldn't let a minute go unaccounted for. One slip up, one minute that I decided to be chatty and something about the past crept through my lips, it would all be over for me. They would find me. Or maybe the thems or theirs would first, either way I couldn't risk it. I had to be precise.

   I let my eyelids shutter close, as I let out a final yawn. I felt my body growing heavier as my thoughts slowed. Two more hours, two more hours of this sleep and I would be good to go. I didn't think anymore, as I was transported into the world of dreams.

---

   Guard telling me she was going to wait outside. Call if I needed anything. Okay. Mirror. Small bathroom. The forced, fake smile she flashed me as she exited. Alone in small bathroom. Irrational hatred for it, the place, the situation.


   She cut my hair. Left me without my mint green highlights. Barely chin length, defiantly not the old mid-waist length. Considering the revenue stream, you'd think they could afford to hire a desperate, wannabe stylist. Lady who cut was trained in hiding, self defense, and secret keeping. Not a real stylist. Real stylist security breach, though. Didn't care. Teenage girl thoughts.

   Had to get out. Fake smiles, losing who I am, lying. Can't do it. Two hours of it and I was done. Needed out of this place. How? Glanced around at the bathroom that doubled a a holding cell. Minimal decor. Nothing visually appealing, just functional. Lamp, trashcan, stool. Said she'd wait outside while I change into ratty shirt and jeans. They take my designer tunic and leggings. She wasn't there if I needed her. There to keep me from escaping. Pushed furniture against door, stepped onto toilet to loook out window covered in grate.

   Felt around the edge of the window, trying to find a latch. Was none. Not a big boned person, could not fit through the tiny holes that let me see a sliver of the outdoors. Picnic table, two fences. Could jump or climb over first, second electric.

 
   Not a bright idea, but only idea. Shifted my weight to other side of porcelain throne, taking a bobby pin out of my hair. Felt bad for all the other teenage girls who would have to go through this; if I thought this haircut and fashion was horrid imagine no bobby pins or supervision free time. Tried turning the screw in the upper left corner with the pin. Heard shuffling outside the room, lady began talking.

   Asked if I okay. Said yes. Asked when I'd be done. Said soon. Needed to stall. Needed excuse. Tried thinking of one as left screw fell to floor, making a clanging noise, began working on upper right one. Asked why I was taking said long. Umm.... Needed excuse. Looked around, quickly said there was no toilet paper. She said she'd find some. She left. Had a few minutes more.

   RIght screw fell to floor. Clutched onto the sides of the air duct, channeling my upper body strength. Did three whole chin ups in gym, could do this. I had to, I couldn't do what they asked. If I did, I practically gave him a life sentence and as soon as I was released from custody the others would go after me. I had no proof that their intentions, but I knew that I had to go out on my own to stay safe. One final lift, managed to heave myself into the duct, wiggling around like a maniac.

   Look ridiculous. Don't care. It was probably unwise to leave the duct open, showing them my exact escape entrance, but considering the size of the building I doubted they'd be able to find my exact exit. 

   My thoughts blurred together as I focused on my one objective: out. Through the vent... the light, to the light... I crawled like a toddler through the dusty cobwebs... opening, I pushed, falling head first, stinking...

  I was free.

---

   I slowly opened my eyes, relieved to awaken from one of the dreams that had replayed night after night in my head- luckily it wasn't a bloody gory one. I popped my knuckles and stretched, rolling over onto my back. I had managed to fall asleep for not one, not two, but three whole hours. It was seven am and I needed stop pondering what I was going to do with my life and actually do it. I had been fired a week ago and ever since my life had been spent curled up in bed napping, ignoring the dirty dishes and old clothes that were piling up, and skimming the newspaper for local gossip. I needed to clean up myself and the trailer, stop pitying myself, and find a job, or otherwise I'd not be able pay the bills and homelessness didn't sound appealing.

   I quickly rolled out of bed, adjusted the comforter, and stood up, walking out of the bedroom, across the living room, dining area, kitchen, and laundry area that were all cramped together into the main portion of my trailer into the bathroom. I sorted through the medical cabinet, picked up a tube of minty fresh toothpaste and my brush and conservatively put a white dot onto the bristles.

   A, B, C, D, E, F... are you suppose to sing the alphabet to yourself while brushing your teeth, or when you wash your hands? Is it happy birthday? I knew mum had told my which one, but I was five and naturally hadn't listened. I glanced around the room as if I expected a sign to be posted. The dirty laundry piled in front of the shower, sitting there, begging for me to wash it caught my eye. I couldn't blame it, my wardrobe was rather minimal with about ten or so basic t-shirts and blouses, along with a pair of heals, flip-flops, sneakers, a jean skirt, sweats, workout shorts, one pair of jeans, denim shorts, and a jacket for summer and winter.

   I spit, rinsed, and placed the brush next to the soap. Stop procrastinating. I'll do the laundry soon. Stop right now. Okay, stop procrastinating by telling yourself to stop procrastinating and stop having conversations in your head. Please. People are going to think that is is peculiar. Isn't it human nature to procrastinate, though? And don't we all have little conversation with our conscious? And isn't it odd that when we do something odd we see if someone else also does that odd thing, because if they do then it is okay?

    I bent down, gathered the laundry up, and shoved it in a stretchy purple nylon bag. Step one complete, next objective is to put the laundry into the washer. Objective? Was I playing Marion. I chuckled, I hadn't played a video game since before this mess began. Now I was much too poor to afford a gaming system

   I walked out of the bathroom and opened the lid of the washer, setting the dial. I dumped the clothes into machine, shut it, and pressed start. It always sounded like a bomb or elderly computer when it began- one day I swore it was going to explode. What can I say, though? It was cheaper to have a washing machine on hand then spend money on a laundromat.

    The washing machine was rumbling away, so I decided to check outside to see if the paperboy had come by yet. I opened my red front door, looking around. I didn't see the white paper sitting on my front porch like it was suppose to, but honestly I didn't suspect that children were fond of what they were suppose to do. I took a few seconds to look around, until I finally spotted it hiding beneath some weeds. I walked over to pick it up, hoping maybe some decent coupons or wanted ads would be there.

   I sat at the table, the paper spread out wide in front of me. A high school athletic team won a game, breaking a losing streak that had gone so strongly for thirteen years. The PTA was hosting a bake sale and all profits were going to be donated to the parks and recreation department, to support the maintenance of the local parks. Ironic, diabetes supported fitness. Wanted ads, wanted ads. Hm... Oh here they are. 

   Firefighter, must be athletic and brave. Was I athletic? Well, I walked to lots of places, but I hated exercise so probably not. Also, I had the tendency to run away from stuff I didn't want to do or controversy, so bravery was probably not my number one quality. Female live in comforter, preferably attractive. Female live in comforter?  How lonely do you have to be to put an ad in the paper for that? Next one, receptionist at a spa, good people skills, healthy. I was healthy. I was okay with people. The instructions said to call and schedule an in person interview and they wanted someone ASAP. These were all things I could do; maybe, just maybe I had found myself a job.

The Third Bit of Boring: Wren

NOTE: This post is about Wren, Hazel and Rosie's daughter, from generation seven. Please skim the last few chapter of generation seven and first few of eight before reading this.

   The building loomed above me, as I turned to face it. I exhaled, dreading the entry of my place of employment. It wasn't that I dreaded what I had to do- often it was mildly entertaining or even enjoyable- it was just the simple  fact that my boss was the bitchy spawn of a demonic, chaotic deity. I suspected either Hades, Satan, or Beshaba, but who knows; she could be the daughter of some new form of evil created by corporate America.


   Go ahead. Knock. What will she do to you for being late? Bite your head off? I coaxed myself to walk up the steps to their front door, that was freshly painted, and knock.

   "Who the hell is it?" I heard her high pitched voice shout.

   "Um, your nanny." I said, unsure of what the proper way to answer. She was clearly angry and one wrong phrase could send her into a complete rage. "I mean, your daughter's nanny. Not your nanny. You probably-" I began nervously blubbering on about what I actually meant.

   "Look, I don't know if you own a clock, but it's fraking early." The door flung open, to reveal a woman who had just dyed her hair and was in what I assumed was tribal themed lingerie that probably wasn't something I would open the door in and also cost more than what I was paid in a month
   "Your hair looks nice." I said politely; the last time I'd seen her, Friday afternoon, she was a fiery redhead. Red matched her personality better, but platinum blonde did make the slutty gold digger message more prominent. "Did you go to the salon over the weekend?"

   "Of course." She snapped. "Boxed crap is classless."

   "Ah. I see." And corsets and garters are totally classy. "Is Scarlatina awake yet?" I felt sorry for the poor toddler; apparently neither of her parents were intelligent to realize that Scarlatina wasn't just a smashup of the names Scarlet and Tina, it was what scarlet fever used to be referred to as.

   "No, you weren't here to wake her up... hey. You're late."

   "My apologies, ma'am. My alarm-"

   "Excuses are not proper. I have a session with my personal trainer at nine and it's eight thirty. You're suppose to be here at eight."

   "I'm sorry. I ran here as quickly as I could."

    "You ran? No wonder you're sweaty. I'm afraid we need to have a bit of a chat darling."

   "Of course. Of course."

   "You lack the air of professional class I want the person raising my daughter to have."

   "I know. I'm trying to improve everything; the sitting up straight, not leaving the G's off of words that end with ing."

   "You have indeed improved ever so slightly."

   "Thank you. I am working on it, even if you can't tell."

   "Did I not just say I could? This what I was referring to. I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go."

   "What? Let me- you mean fire me?" I felt the desperation overcome me, as I began begging the bitch for my job back. While I hated her, I liked watching her daughter and trying to make sure she didn't grow up to be like her mother. "Please, I need this job. I have bills due, please. Please."

   "Begging is unbecoming, darling." She sighed, glancing out of boredom and vanity at her manicured nails.

   "You're right. I mean, I know. I just... I need money to pay the bills."

   "I'm aware of the need to have money. I'm sure you could sign up for those, oh, what do you call them? I'm afraid the name has slipped my mind. Those government programs for lazy people who sit on their asses, doing drugs and becoming obese."

   "Some people actually need help." I said, disgusted with her description of government assistant programs. "You know, if you're making minimum wage, your yearly salary would be less then fifteen thousand dollars. It's employer's fault for being selfish and not paying people a decent wage, not people who are so desperate for work they'll accept anything."

   "Excuse me?! Did you can me selfish?"

   "No, no! I just-" I tried to back peddle and ended up failing miserably. Ever since this mess began; since I lost everything... Did you lose it or leave it? You did have to go away. Go away to protect yourself and what you love.

   Ever since I came to this town, started living in the trailer, and began working for pennies I became aware of how difficult life really was for the bottom percentage of America. I was in the bottom percentage. I was looking for a second job, but it wasn't exactly like jobs were being handed out. It wasn't like people wanted to hire someone who just had a high school diploma and couldn't afford college.

   "I frankly don't give a damn. Go away, now. Leave and why don't you go apply for those aid programs you seem to be in love with?"

   "I'm not in love with them." I tried to defend myself, as her toddler began wailing. I couldn't apply for programs. They require personal info. Information I can't give, because they might find me. The thems, theirs, and theys had ways of finding things even I wasn't aware existed.

   "Darling, get the hell away from my home or I'm going to contact the police." Her voice had a venom in it, unique to only the most poisonous of snakes. Maybe she was the offspring of one...

   "Oh course." I said, turning and running away from her porch. I was unemployed now.

   The job I'd received a year ago, only days after I first moved here, was gone. The job I had faithfully shown up to, never late, excluding today, for countless weeks. The job I showed up to on the Fourth of July, New Year's, and even Thanksgiving, not asking for a bonus or health insurance or any type of benefits, was gone, all because of half an hour. Half a fraking hour. Thirty minutes. I glanced back at their home, as I heard the door slam shut, while she shouted some profanities at her daughter. Stupid hypocrite.

   I didn't have anyone to use as a reference other than her and now we weren't on good terms. How the hell was I suppose to find work? I looked up at the sky, as a rumble of thunder crept into my ears. Wasn't this lovely? I rarely was driven to my trailer, but now I couldn't even try to convince my employer to let me ride in one of her cars, allowing the taking gas money out of my paycheck; I'm going to become soaking wet.

The Second Bit of Boring: Wren

NOTE: This post is about Wren, Hazel and Rosie's daughter, from generation seven. Please skim the last few chapter of generation seven and first few of eight before reading this.

  BRRING! BRRING! The ancient alarm clock began ringing, saving me from the restless coma I referred to as sleep. The haunting nightmares that hadn't visited for a week- eight exact,  if I was feeling painstakingly, aggravatingly precious- were back. I suppose after everything it shouldn't surprise ne, what I saw at night. It still did, though. Every morning I'd look at the small pad of paper and brown mug of pens and think perhaps I should document the nightmares. I never did. The dreams were too commonplace to waste a sheet from the fifty cent notebook.

   I couldn't leave a trace... if they broke in, found something... I couldn't let my mind think of what would happen. The paranoia was lingering, not often, just there. Caution. You were never too cautious, according to them. They don't know I'm here, they don't. If I remembered their rules, I'll be alright. All the thems, theirs, and theys become confusing after too much thought. Luckily, there's no one to tell; no one to spill my thoughts to and confuse.

   I sat up in my bed, the springs poking out through the top of the old, stained mattress. I didn't know who it use to belong to, nor where it came from. It was here when I moved into the trailer. All the furniture was. If it wasn't for my ratty t-shirt I used instead of a real pajama shirt and the sheet, the cold metal spring would be directly touching my back. Not that two layers of thin fabric made it comfortable, just slightly more bearable. Slightly.

   I glanced at the only window in my bedroom and, through a thin layer of dust and pointless shades, saw the thin rays of sunlight that only came from a sun that was present on a clear, cloudless day. Most would be rather joyful that the weather was picture perfect, but after months of sun, I was eager for a storm; a refreshing rainstorm with thunder and lightening that shook City Hall. Was that unreasonable to wish for? I groaned, knowing I'd have to stand up a moment from now, eat breakfast, change into horrid, itchy clothes and stumble off to be a productive member of society

   I wonder if the roof would leak if it rained. Rain would still be nice though. Maybe the yellowed grass would look nicer... maybe it would look alive. BRRING! I stood up, my feet hitting the carpet. The whole trailer was hideous and dirty and I didn't have the time or money to clean it. They do say time is money. I thought to myself. Haha, guess it's true, because I have neither.

    I began dragging my feet to the kitchen, opening the cabinet and pulling out a box of generic Mini Wheats. No wasting an extra dollar and thirty-four cents plus tax on a name and cereal that didn't taste like cardboard that had been coated in a mixture of high fructose corn syrup and powdered milk.   

   What would I do for a real breakfast, from Starbucks? Probably murder someone. A sconce, vanilla or blueberry, and grande hazelnut frappuccino with extra whip blended in and two shots of caramel syrup and java chips was what I wanted. Back before this, before the theys and thems and theirs, the local baristas knew my order by heart... then it happened and I was suddenly away from the place I'd grown up in, the only place I'd ever known, slipped away. I was stuck in this town now. The town that was so small it didn't even have a Starbucks.

   I sat at the table, on the creaky chair that had one leg shorter then the other,and quickly spooned spoonful after spoonful of mush into my mouth. I glanced at the stove's clock, suddenly noticing that it was ahead by seventeen minutes. Or was my alarm ahead? I pulled out my cheap, pay as you go flip phone my employer said I had to have, and saw that it agreed with the oven. Crud. I'm late for work! 

   I tossed my bowl into the sink, as the small amount of milk and cereal that hadn't splashed all over the counter dripped down the drain. I suppose I'll have to deal with a clogged sink later. I rushed to my bedroom, threw on a striped blouse that my employer deemed acceptable and a horrible khaki skirt.

   I worked for a lady who, despite being barely thirty and dressed like a whore, was rather strict about my attire and called pants unladylike. I didn't think her mini skirts and tank tops were exactly what people who used the word unladylike- they were all probably from the nineteenth century- thought was proper.

    I began my trek to work, once I slammed the front door shut and locked it. Why bother locking it? The most valuable thing I own is a pair of twenty dollar heels you got as a holiday bonus and a washing machine. Better safe then sorry, I suppose. It  isn't like I have any money to replace anything if it was damaged or stolen. I didn't own a car; I never had. I would say I was saving my money for one, but the truth was I had no savings. I was living paycheck to paycheck.


   The sun beat down on my face, as I wished for rain. If I arrived to work soaking or with a tan, I would receive a lecture about looking trashy or cheap. I desperately wanted to inform her that she was probably the trashiest out of the two of us, but I needed money. Hopefully she wouldn't be too pissed that I was late.

The Last Heir Vote

   Yeah, I'm going to be completely, utterly melodramatic because generation ten is about to begin. Hopefully you're okay with that. If not, well... I presumed that if you're reading this, you also read generation one through nine and have learned to cope with me and my personality. Either way, the last heir vote is about to begin and it is the largest one ever! That's right you'll be able to pick one of five potential heirs to vote for; I'm fairly certain the only other generation that produced that many children was four and I didn't count the twins in that poll. Now, without further ado, I present to you the potential heirs, starting with the oldest we have:

Name: Felix Janes.
Traits: He's handy, a born salesman, a schmoozer, lucky, and  a vehicle enthusiast.
Age: If's he elected, the legacy will pick up when he's eighteen, he'll be a senior in high school.
Description: He loves fixing things and is wonderful at flattering people in a way that will convince them to do what he says, however he doesn't like having to sit at a desk, he'd rather be out in a garage, tinkering with a car, therefore after he graduates he wants to go work at an automotive repair shop or car dealership.

Name: Chester Janes
Traits: He's star quality, family oriented, friendly, a virtuoso, and has a good sense of humor.
Age: If he's elected, he'll be fifteen and a sophomore.
Description: He's an average student, he makes B's, C's, and A's, he's been described by his one and only ex-girlfriend as "sweet, but better at being a friend than a boyfriend". When he was ten, Phoebe, his mom, decided to let him sign up for one after school activity, he decided he wanted to sign up for music lessons and learn to play the guitar. When he was in ninth grade, his two best friends, Rider and Cameron, decided that the best way to get girls to go out with them would be to start a band. He decided he might as well join. He plays electric guitar, Rider is the drummer, Cameron plays keyboard.

Name: Remy Janes
Traits: She's nurturing, loves the outdoors, loves to swim, athletic, and a bookworm.
Age: If she's elected, she'll be fourteen and in ninth grade.
Description: Remy loved the water ever since her parents took her to the Pacific ocean and told her about how grandpa Harbor loved diving and use to be a life guard. She's on the high school swim team and currently volunteers at the hospital; when she saw a collegiate swimmer going through physical therapy, she decides that she wants to be a physical therapist.

Name: Hadley Janes
Traits: She's flirty, a social butterfly, a snob, a diva, and over emotional.
Age: If she's elected, she'll be twelve and in seventh grade.
Description: She's an adorable blonde who's the seventh grade queen bee and thinks she's all that. She doesn't care about school, she just wants to hang out with her friends, flipping through magazines, picking the cutest celebrity boy band member, criticizing the photos people upload to social media sites, and trying on clothes at the mall- which, tragically her parents force her to go with either them of Felix, something she thinks is stupid, because she obviously knows more than any of them.

Name: Ryelynn Janes
Traits: She's socially awkward, irresistible, a genius, eccentric, and excitable.
Age: If she's elected, she'll be eleven and in sixth grade.
Description: She's the youngest child and because of that she's earned a special place in her daddy's heart and because of that, Hadley tends to be more brutal towards her. Ryelynn loves getting to accompany her daddy to the cinema to see the newest science fiction movie- a genre he discovered after seeing a poster in one of his client's living rooms and has since fallen in love with- or watch old TV shows like Sliders with him, or listen to him read Douglas Adams novels to her instead of traditional bedtime stories.

The poll ends Wednesday, also I'm totally biased as to who is going to win, so...