Being Nash Grier's Sister

Chapter 32

Liv's P.O.V:

Mom came home yesterday, and with nothing but bad news.

First, she's making me go to Arizona. There's only two words to describe that:

Fucking hell.

Next, she is letting Nash do online school because all of his other friends are doing it for MagCon and traveling purposes.

She's not letting me, though.

She said I need to "be more social with kids my age" before I can just quit and do online shit.

There's just some problems with kids my age.

I hate them all.

That's the smallest problem.

They'd use me for the guys, been there, done that. It was miserable.

They do nothing but party on the weekends.

My idea of going hard is staying up past midnight watching Netflix and eating Chinese food.

All the girls are fucking
cheerleaders.

I play basketball and softball.

Their idea of doing well in school is passing with a C.

I'm on the verge of an emotional breakdown if I get any grades lower than a B+.

The girls are fake, and they dress like sluts in their short shorts and crop tops that barely hold their boobs.

I'm fine with sweatpants and a band t-shirt.

Besides the fact that I'm a total outcast at school with about five friends, which are Mary, Zach, Ben, Alex, and Joe, everything is just borderline horrible.

So now, I'm upstairs packing for a week and a half in Ari-fucking-zona.

Nash, Hayes, and Will tried talking to Mom about it, and she said the decision was final, but she just wants me out of the house.

I groan as I throw another t-shirt into my suitcase.

"Honey," Mom pokes her head in the door, "be sure to pack something dressy, in case you go somewhere nice,"

"Whatever," I mutter, clearly not interested in what she has to say.

I've said about fifteen words to her in the past few days, not feeling a drop of guilt about it, either.

If she wants to be a bitch and send me off, fine.

But she better know, two can play at that game.

I leap into my closet and glare at the clothes I have in the back, usually for basketball banquets or pictures.

Dresses, skirts, and the worst thing: flats.

Anything that I can't sit with my legs apart in or walk in are things that don't belong in my closet, next to my beloved tennis shoes, Vans, and sweatpants.

My phone dings, and I slide on the hardwood floor to retrieve it.

From: Mary 😎

Your mom is seriously making you go?

I chuckle.

To: Mary 😎

Yeah. I'm ignoring her tho bc she is being an ass(: I leave tomorrow.. 😅🔫

I throw my phone on the bed and attempt to finish packing without any further disruptions.

After the fiasco of packing is over, I can finally relax!

I hop down the stairs with my phone in my hand and I trudge into the kitchen.

After searching for what felt like hours, I finally found frozen yogurt in the freezer.

I lean up against the counter and scroll through Instagram while eating.

"And here, we have the beast-like Liv Grier in her natural habitat,"
Nash points a camera at me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I glare at him.

"Vlogging," he shrugs.

I come up to him and start hitting him.

"If you agitate her, she'll go crazy!" He screams as I continue with my small assault.

"Shut up!" I punch him in the chest, to only make him laugh.

"You hit like a pussy,"

"At least I'm not one," I smirk victoriously and walk back to my fro-yo.

"I told y'all, she's like an animal," he whisper-yells as he walks into the backyard, and I roll my eyes and sit down in the living room on the couch.

The second I sit down, the doorbell rings.

"I swear to God," I run my hand through my straightened hair and answer the door.

I open it to reveal Cameron, Carter, Matt, Johnson, and Gilinsky.

"What do you want?" I roll my eyes.

In case you couldn't tell, I've been extremely moody since Mom said I had to go.

"Nice to see you too, princess," Gilinsky chuckles, "is Nash here?"

"No," I sarcastically gasp, "Nash actually moved to Indonesia, y'all just missed him," I slouch my shoulders.

"Is that time of the month?" Carter frowns.

"No," I snap, "why don't you ask my wonderful mother why I'm so fucking pissed off," I open the door more so they can come inside.

I flip onto the couch and pull my phone out.

"Liv!" Nash yells from upstairs.

"Don't talk to me," I groan, and the guys laugh.

"You need to repack your suitcase," he leans over the railing that overlooks the living room.

"And that is because?" I roll my eyes, uninterested.

"You can't just pack basketball shorts, t-shirts, and ONE nice outfit," he chuckles, emphasizing 'one'.

"Why? Last time I checked, I could wear whatever the hell I want," I snap.

"Just repack the suitcase, or there won't be anything but skirts, dresses, and flats in your bags when you get there,"

"If you have the balls to do that, which you don't anyways, I'd cut your fucking hands off," I get off the couch and stumble up the stairs.

"We'll help," Matt yells, running past me.

I make it to my room, where my suitcase is empty, and my clothes are on my bed.

I roll my eyes and start putting my clothes back where they belong.

"Fashion Police, what do you request that I wear for this trip to hell- wait, Arizona, sorry," I sarcastically shake my head at my 'mistake'.

"Jean shorts and t-shirts. No basketball shorts!" Nash throws about three t-shirts at me.

I examine them before folding them into my suitcase.

"Grab me some Vans and Jordans that'll match some of these outfits," I tell no one in particular, and my request in immediately obeyed.

Within fifteen minutes, my entire suitcase with hair supplies, makeup, shoes, and clothes is packed.

"Thanks, all I have to do is pack my electronic stuff," I half smile and they exit my room, leaving the door ajar.

I put my laptop on my bed and plug my headphones and listen to Pandora as I finish my math assignment for next Wednesday- the last assignment I'll need to do, I already finished all the other homework and notes I'll miss.

Vacation? More like guilt trip and torture.