WARNING: The following story is not well-written. I strongly advise against reading it. It's a cheap rip off of Mean Girls and several other teen films. I'm not proud of it. However, if you're a fan of plot holes, cliche characters and ridiculous amounts of drama, go ahead. Read at your own risk.
"Seriously, Dad, can’t we stop off and get Taco Bell or something? I’m starving."
Brad Webb sat back against the soft material of the seat and folded his arms. They’d been travelling for over three hours now in the stuffy old car, and the time was nearing 6 o’clock in the evening. The sun was about to set, transforming the sky into a warm orange colour, but the air in the car was hot and sticky, making it unpleasant to breathe.
"You’re always starving," Brad’s sister, Olivia, who was also sat in the back of the beat up old Nissan car, pointed out. She had her sketch book out on her lap, with a pencil in her hand, although the constant jolts as a result of the bumpy road and the old car were not helping her drawing. "But come on, Dad, are we nearly there yet or what?"
"We’ll be there in practically two minutes," their Dad answered. "The house is around here somewhere. I recognise the area from when the estate agent showed me."
"I don’t even see why we had to move in the first place." Brad rolled his eyes. "Our life was fine back in New York. My band mates were there. Olivia was still a nerd back in our other school. And you were happy there."
"We’ve already discussed this, Brad. I’m not talking about it now. It’s not as if we can turn around and drive back to New York anyway, even if we wanted to."
There was a silence as the words hung in the air, almost visible.
"Once I’m old enough I’ll be clearing off there anyway. Don’t think I’m sticking around here any longer than I need to." Brad narrowed his eyes at the front seat, and then looked behind him at all the bags packed into the boot of the car.
"If my guitar’s getting crushed in there, you’re going to be dead."
"’Cause that guitar’s definitely my top priority," Dad rolled his eyes. "It’ll be fine. Stop your complaining, we’re almost there."
The car continued along the road, which was surrounded by typical suburban houses. They could’ve been anywhere in the world, any street would’ve looked the same. Except maybe New York. Their father braked suddenly as they approached a turning. "Maybe it’s this one down here," he muttered to himself.
Soon, they were driving through a huge area that contained many houses, so big they were more like mansions, with long stretching areas of woodland and gardens behind. The houses loomed above them, making everything else seem smaller. Usually in a residential area, there would be people outside, or at least some sign of life, but the place seemed eerily empty, although the houses were visibly occupied. There was no one on the field of lush green grass that was the centrepiece of the area, which had obviously just been mowed and was displaying a perfect vertical line pattern, no children on bikes or playing outside, no one out in front gardens mowing lawns or doing gardening, no cars except their own anywhere to be seen.
"This isn’t it, surely?" Olivia stared out the window, her pencil poised in mid air above her sketchbook. "This can’t be it."
"You didn’t say it was like this!" Brad was looking out of the window too, a hint of excitement displayed on his face. "The houses are huge! The whole place is freaking huge! I can’t believe this is it!"
"This isn’t it," their father said, suddenly shattering the atmosphere in the car. "No, this definitely isn’t it. You think we could afford something like this?" He gestured towards the huge houses, at least three or four storeys high, complete with balconies and towering pillars by the front doors. "I’ve just made a wrong turning, is all."
"Oh." Olivia looked back to her sketch book, but she wasn’t in the mood for drawing any longer. She closed it and placed it on the seat next to her, then turned back to continue looking out the window as their Dad made a U-turn and drove away towards the exit.
A few moments later, they were in a different road, one of a dramatic contrast to the one they had just visited. The narrow road was lined with typical suburban houses, each one more ordinary and disappointing than the last. The car slowed down as it approached number 24, before pulling into the driveway. Their father turned the engine off and paused for a second, breathing in the tense silent atmosphere that was consuming the inside of the car. He then shoved open the car door and climbed out, looking at the house as if it was a palace, or at least a considerable amount better than it looked to Olivia and Brad.