Chapter 1

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Hiii. It's here!

Although it's not the /BEST/ of stories, I like writing it. So, yeah, enjoy the first chap, hopefully!

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Chapter 1

                    Scott Levi let a sigh escape his lips as he stared up at the house from where he stood in the cobblestone pathway between the front lawn. It was made from white weatherboard outside, with blue peeling paint. An old, dark blue tin roof was set atop, and there was also a white picket fence surrounding the green lawn . It looked enough to fit a small family, but Scott didn’t like it one bit. The house in front of him was so different than his home in Miami, Florida—the one he had grown in and loved every single minute of.

          Another sigh passed Scott’s lips—he had been sighing a lot lately—as he picked up his black Adidas duffel bag and dragged the navy blue suitcase towards the porch, lifting it up with ease as he stepped up the two steps before reaching the front door. Lifting up his right hand, Scott pressed the doorbell twice before impatiently waiting for the door to open.

          It finally did, seconds later, and Scott couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his dear old grandmother. She opened the door, and a smile plastered on her small lips as her wrinkle-decorated face lit up at the sight of her estranged grandson.

          “Scott!” Pamela, Scott’s grandmother, cheered as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her grandson’s torso. He stood at a tall height of 6’2”, so naturally, his grandmother couldn’t quite reach up and wrap her arms around Scott’s neck. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”

          Scott pressed his lips together in a small smile, his right arm wrapping around her shoulders. “You too, Grams,” he replied as they pulled away and stepped inside the house. The light brown, worn floorboards creaked as Scott walked in with his heavy Timbs, and he couldn’t help but noticed how the house smelled like chocolate chip cookies, just like he had expected it to. “Where’s Pops?”

          “At the restaurant,” she replied, stepping aside to let Scott enter fully as she shut the front door. “He’ll be back before dinner, though.”

          Scott’s grandfather had his own Italian restaurant in town, where he spent most of his time managing and keeping things in order. No doubt he was going to make Scott work there as a waiter for the summer, too. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

          He nodded before following his short grandmother as she wobbled up the stairs and he walked behind her, making sure she didn’t slip or fall. As a ninety-two year old, Scott’s grandmother was one of the liveliest women he’d ever met.

          They walked up the stairs as frames of pictures of Scott, his family, grandparents, cousins, and aunts and uncles decorated the wall. The two of them walked down a small hallway, before Grams opened the door to the guest room, made and ready for Scott’s arrival.

          “It’s not like your room back home, but it’s the best we got,” his grandmother said with a soft chuckle as Scott entered the room.

          “No, it’s fine,” he replied, tossing his duffel on the bed and leaving his suitcase at the end of it. “Thanks, Grams.”

          She smiled, nodding. “Get unpacking; I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

          The door creaked as Grams shut it and went off, leaving Scott alone in his bedroom for the summer. He looked around, taking in the light green walls and darker green curtains. The white bed and dresser complimented the room, but this just wasn’t Scott’s style. He missed his own bedroom with posters decorating the walls and music constantly playing loudly throughout the room.

          With a sigh, Scott slowly began unpacking his bags; shoving his clothes in drawers and carelessly hanging them up in the closet. Like most boys, Scott wasn’t exactly neat—he just did whatever he wanted as long as it got the job done.

          About forty-five minutes later, when Scott had finished unpacking, his phone began ringing and when he looked at the caller I.D., he couldn’t help but groan out at the fact that it was his mother calling him. He stared at the screen momentarily, contemplating whether or not to answer it, until he finally huffed and pressed the accept button.

          “Hello?” he mumbled into the receiver, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

          “Hi, honey,” his mother greeted warmly, causing Scott to roll his eyes. “You at your grandparents’ yet?”

          Scott rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor. “Yeah,” he replied, “just finished unpacking.”

          “That’s good,” she replied as a bit of shuffling could be heard from her side of the line. “Don’t give them too much trouble, alright? Be good.”

          Scott rolled his eyes at that, a scoff escaping his lips. “Yeah, whatever.” And he didn’t even bother to wait for his mother to reply, because he hung up and tossed the phone behind him on the bed, hearing it softly thud as it hit the mattress.

          This was stupid—so, so stupid. Scott loved his grandparents, he really did, but he didn’t want to spend his summer before college stuck in New Hope, Pennsylvania while his friends were going to the Bahamas or California or on cruises. Just because he ‘acted out’ a little bit, didn’t deserve him jail time in some small town. What was he even supposed to do here?

          He never came to New Hope—maybe once, when he was ten—but other than that, his grandparents always visited his family in Florida. Scott had absolutely no friends here, and knew of no one except his grandparents. So what exactly is an eighteen year old boy supposed to do in a small town like this with no friends for the entire summer?

          Nada. Zilch. Scott couldn’t think of anything remotely fun to do.

          About two hours of Scott texting his friends back home and scrolling through his phone, he heard the doorbell of the house ring. Realizing that it was most likely his grandfather, Scott got off the bed and made his way downstairs. The house smelt like chicken roast—Scott’s favorite—as he made his way to where the front door was. Sure enough, it was his grandpa.

          “Pops,” Scott greeted the tall man with snowy white hair, who was taking off the brown fedora he wore on top.

          Scott’s grandfather turned around, and grinned widely at the sight of his grandson. “Scotty, my boy,” Pops greeted cheerfully, giving Scott a hug and a firm pat on the back. “Good to see ya, son. You grew a few inches, didn’t ya?”

          “Yeah, guess so,” Scott replied as his grandfather kicked off his shoes.

          “Scott, Jerome! Dinner’s ready,” came the voice of his grandmother, and the two men made their way to the dining room, where the smell of roast was overwhelmingly delicious and the table was set and ready for a dinner for three people.

          They all sat down—with Pops at the head and Grams on one side of him while Scott sat across from her. His plate was full of his Grams’ chicken roast and macaroni salad, a can of Pepsi sitting in front him as he ate his dinner. It was quiet for the first few moments, nothing but the sounds of forks and knives clinking against the plates, until his grandparents began talking to Scott about his life back at home.

          And, yeah, maybe Scott wasn’t the happiest with being stuck in New Hope, Pennsylvania with his grandparents with no friends around, whatsoever. But it was better than being traditionally grounded back at home with his angry and disappointed parents looming over his head. Yeah, this was definitely better.

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