After sitting outside the bar for almost an hour, our dad stumbles out, drunk off his ass. When I refuse to hotwire his truck again, he finally lets Londyn drive his truck. I feel bad for her being stuck in the car with his smelly ass and offer to drive with him instead, but Londyn refuses to allow it. Since my cheek currently has a bright red handprint on it, I don’t put up much of an argument.

Five hours into the drive and after Dad sobers up, we pull over and Londyn climbs back into the Chevelle. Everything is going decently until we enter the town of Honeyton, our new, temporary place of residence.

Somewhere along the main street and the turn off to our neighborhood, Dad pulls over. Since we don’t notice right away, we’re unsure where he went. My bet is the first bar he spotted.

Luckily, I have the new address entered into the GPS on my phone. Unfortunately, I have no clue how the hell we’re supposed to get the keys from the landlord, or if Dad’s even signed the lease yet. He found the house online, that much I know. Other than that, he hasn’t given me any more info other than the address. Not that I haven’t tried. He always just dismisses me or gives some vague answer, probably because he’s either doing something or has done something I won’t approve of.

That’s my dad for you.

Yeah, did I forget to mention that he does some pretty shady stuff, pulling off scams and screwing people over? Not that he ever tells me about it. I just hear stuff through gossip or read about it on his police report when I bail him out of jail.

I wonder how long we’ll be here before he gets arrested?

Sighing heavily at that thought, I pull up into the gravel driveway of the address currently typed into the GPS. The sun is starting to set, the sky greying. Even if Dad arrives in the next five minutes, we’re going to be trying to move stuff in while it’s dark.

“Well, I think this one is the winner.” Sarcasm drips from Bailey’s tone as she takes in the narrow, two-story home in front of us.

The wraparound porch is starting to collapse, the front door is cracked, and one of the windows is boarded up. It does have a garage at the end of the driveway. Or, well, more like a shack with a garage door.

“The winner of what exactly?” Payton slants forward in the back seat to get a better look. “The shittiest house in the neighborhood?”

“Actually, I was going to go with the shittiest house we’ve ever lived in,” Bailey clarifies. “The house next door is much shittier.”

Payton’s gaze drifts to the two-story home beside ours. It shares similarities to ours, only with more boarded up windows and a shit ton of rusted cars decorating the backyard. Some of the cars don’t look half bad, if they had some work done to them.

“Doesn’t really matter how shitty it is anyway,” Bailey adds as she gathers her guitar and bag. “We’ll probably live here for like, what? Maybe six months tops?”

“How did Dad even find this town?” Payton leans back and scribbles something in a notebook. “It’s out in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. Seriously, did you guys see the population sign?”

“We’ve lived in small towns before,” I remind them as I check my phone for missed messages.

Fuck. He hasn’t replied to my texts yet.

Frustrated, I send him another, asking how I’m supposed to get into this place and if he needs to be here to sign a lease. After a couple minutes tick by and he doesn’t reply, I shove open the door.

“I’m going to take a look around,” I tell my sisters as I hop out of the car.

I hike up the gravel driveway, hoping I can find either a letter from the landlord or an old rental sign that hopefully has a phone number.

The more I walk around, the more my face throbs. I took some painkillers earlier and pressed a cold bottle of soda to my cheek for a while, but it still hurts like a motherfucker and looks just as bad. In a couple days, I’ll probably have a bruise.

“Goddamn, stupid, dickless asshole,” I chew my dad out as I trot up the steps to the side door.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

The voice comes from out of nowhere and startles the crap out of me. I spin around and nearly trip over my untied laces. I grab the wooden railing for support and end up getting slivers in my palms, but at least I manage to stop myself from falling on my ass.

Sweeping my hair out of my face, I glance around to see who the culprit is who almost made me fall on my face. The instant I spot him, I know I’m about to have trouble on my hands.

He’s standing on the other side of the fence that divides the yard between the house next door and ours. He looks around my age, is tall, lean, with blond hair, and one of the prettiest faces I’ve ever seen. Which yes, is cliché and makes me sound stupidly girly, but it’s the truth. He’s also sporting an I-think-I’m-the-shit smirk, or a smirk I like to refer to as a douchebag stamp.

He rests his arms on top of the fence. “Are you lost, baby?”

My jaw ticks. God, I hate it when guys call me baby.

I cock my brow. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, I am, baby.” He deliberately lets his gaze scroll over me. “You know what? Forget the baby remark. I’m thinking you’re more of a sweetheart sort of girl.”

“Oh, my God.” I hold up my hands. I can’t even right now. “Does that shit seriously ever work for you?”

His smile fumbles for the briefest of seconds before he plasters the smirk right back on. “Don’t worry; it’s okay to be flattered.”

“I’m not flattered.” I trot down the steps and stop a short distance from him. “But don’t worry, sweetheart; I’m sure there’s some girl somewhere stupid enough to find your disgusting little obsession with vomit-inducing nicknames swoon-worthy. You should probably go find her, baby. And I’m thinking the best place to start is on go-fuck-yourself lane. And don’t ever call me sweetheart or baby again or I’ll kick you in the dick drive.” Then I flip him the middle finger and turn away, heading back down the driveway.

My sisters have gotten out of the car, and Londyn is digging through the trunk while Payton texts on her phone and Bailey watches me with an amused grin.

“Way to make friends with the new neighbors.” She gives me a thumbs-up.

“That guy was an ass.” I stop in front of her, casting a quick glance back at the guy.

I half expect him to be standing near the fence, glaring at me, but he’s walking back to the house. When he reaches the door, however, he throws a look in my direction, his expression laced with irritation.

“A hot ass,” Payton remarks without glancing up from her phone.

Bailey grins as she slings the strap of her guitar over her shoulder. “For sure.”

“Don’t.” I point a finger back and forth between the two of them. “That isn’t the kind of guy you want to date.”

“Who said anything about dating?” Payton grins. “Maybe I’m just looking for a boy toy.”

Bailey and Payton high-five each other, and I shake my head.

“You’re not even sixteen yet. You don’t need a boy toy,” I lecture. “You should be focused on getting good grades and pursuing your dreams.”

“Hooking up with a hottie is on my bucket list,” Payton remarks as she shoves her phone into the back pocket of her torn jeans.

I roll my eyes. “That should not be on your bucket list. Cool things should be. Like going to Paris and seeing the ocean. Shit like that.”

“That stuff is on my bucket list, too.” Payton pulls her curly brown and red streaked hair into a messy bun and secures it with an elastic that’s around her wrist. “But hooking up with the hot next-door neighbor is more doable than being able to afford to fly to Paris.”

I cross my arms. “With that attitude, you won’t.”

Payton sighs, tugging at the bottom of her oversized worn Nirvana T-shirt. “You sound like Mom.”

Bailey nods. “She really does.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” I utter quietly.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.” Payton offers me a small smile. “It’s just that … Don’t you ever get tired of being the responsible one? You’re seventeen, but sometimes, you act like you’re thirty.”

“Someone has to be the responsible one,” I say, working to keep an even tone to hide the truth. That I do wish I could act my age. But they don’t need to know how I feel. Then they’d just feel guilty. “And besides, I don’t always act responsible. I do a lot of stupid stuff all the time.”

Payton deliberates, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Mom wouldn’t have told our next-door neighbor to go fuck himself, and that she was going to kick him in the dick.”

“That’s not exactly what I said,” I argue. “And besides, he deserved it. He was an ass. And you should realize that right now. No flirting with him, okay?”

“We’ll see,” Payton says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Lovely. That more than likely means she’s going to go after blondie baby douchebag—my nickname for him from now on. And Bailey will probably flirt with him, too, although she’ll back off before Payton does.

Between the two of them, Bailey is more loud and outspoken, except when it comes to guys. Payton is the flirt and has already had her fair share of boyfriends. She assured me a while ago that she is still a virgin, but I still stuffed a cookie jar full of condoms and put it in the bathroom. So far, none of us have used any, but my money is on Payton being the one to stick her hand into that cookie jar first.

“Oh, my God, you’re thinking about the condom cookie jar, aren’t you?” Payton groans as she heads toward the trunk where Londyn has begun to stack boxes and bags. “Just because we like to talk about sex doesn’t mean we’re actually having it.”

“I know that.” I follow her. “But when you do start to be sexually active, I want to make sure you’re careful.”

“I feel like I’m in health class right now.” Payton picks up a box from off the ground. “You want to go get a banana so you can give me a demonstration on how to put one on?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I joke with a smirk. “But I think a cucumber’s closer to the right shape unless his dick is really crooked.”

Londyn snickers as she drops a box onto the ground beside her feet. “Like Donny Dapierfield.”

I make a face. “Ew. You saw Donny Dapierfield’s dick? When?”

“When he took me to prom and asked me to give him a handjob.” Her face twists in disgust. “He didn’t even wait for me to answer; just pulled out his thing and looked at me expectantly.”

I lean against the open trunk. “Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Hell no. I laughed at him. I couldn’t help it. His dick looked like this.” She holds up her hand with her index finger curved in.

I snort a laugh. “I would’ve hit him in his crooked dick and made it even more crooked.”

She grabs a bag out of the trunk and sets it on top of a stack of boxes. “I might have, but my laughter must have wounded his ego because he zipped up his pants and drove me straight home without saying another word.”

“Um, Hadley,” Bailey interrupts. “Where are we supposed to put all these boxes if we can’t even get in the house?”

Crap. I almost forgot about the key situation, thanks to blondie baby douchebag distracting me.

“Stack them on the front porch for now. I’m going to take a look around again, without distractions this time, and see if I can figure out how to get ahold of the landlord.”

I start up the driveway, sending my dad another text, then go up to the front door and try the knob, but it’s locked. I have the same luck with the side door, so I start looking around for a sign somewhere, eventually heading over to the shed/garage. The door isn’t automatic, and the only way to get in is to push it up by hand. Once I get it open, I feel around for a light switch.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

I startle, whirling around toward my neighbors’, and find a girl with light brown, shoulder-length hair, maybe a year or two younger than Bailey and Payton, watching me from the other side of the fence.

That’s two times in half an hour that I’ve been startled by the neighbors, which makes me question if they’re going to end up being obnoxious.

“It’s okay. I live here,” I tell her.

“I didn’t mean the garage door.” She takes a step toward the fence. “I meant, you shouldn’t have said that shit to my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” I wonder as I wipe my dusty hands off on the sides of my shorts.

She smiles, but it’s more mocking than friendly. “They guy you told to go fuck himself and that you were going to kick in the dick.”

“Oh.” So, this is blondie baby douchebag’s sister. I guess I can kind of see similarities in their features. “That’s actually not what I said.”

“You sure about that?”

“I just told him the best place to go find a girl who would enjoy his douchebaggery would be on go-fuck-yourself lane and don’t ever call me sweetheart or baby again or I’ll kick you in the dick drive.”

She studies me cautiously. “That’s pretty much the same thing.”

“Close, but not quite.” I move to step into the shed/garage.

“Well, just a little warning,” she says, and I pause. “My brothers don’t take one of them being insulted very well, and they’ll probably get you back for it when they hear about it.”

“Brothers?” I question, glancing back at her with my brow arched. “I only insulted one and only after he insulted me first.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She glances over her shoulder at her house, then looks back at me. “My brothers are sort of a package deal. Insult one, you insult them all. And some of them take that stuff pretty personally.”

“Okay.” Why is she warning me? If that’s what she’s even doing.

She must read the confusion on my face because she sighs. “You’re new around this town, aren’t you?”

I nod. “We just moved here from Sunnyvale.”

“Okay, well, here’s a little bit of advice that’s going to put you ahead of the game. My brothers are known around Honeyton as troublemakers. And they more than exceed their reputation.”

A drop of worry prickles inside me, but I shrug it off. I refuse to be worried about some asshole. I’m tougher than that and have had to deal with guys like him before. Sure I’m not a fan of doing so but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.

“Well, just so you know, I’m a retaliating sort of girl,” I tell her. “Maybe you should warn your brothers about that.”

Her lips almost quirk into a smile, but she wrestles it back. “For your sake, I’m not going to. It’ll only make it worse.” She offers me a partially remorseful look then whirls around and jogs back to her house.

Blowing out a breath, I shove thoughts of the neighbors behind me and duck inside the shed/garage, determined to find a way to get ahold of the landlord. The space is pretty much empty, so I quickly give up, close it back up, and head back to the car.

“Hey, so, do you want to stay here with Bailey and Payton and keep an eye on our stuff while I go drive around town and try to find Dad’s truck?” I ask Londyn.

“Sure.” She starts for the porch, but I capture her arm.

“Keep an eye on the neighbors, okay?” I say quietly. “The girl who lives there just gave me some weird warning about how her brothers are going to pay me back for insulting blondie earlier.”

Her lips curve downward. “That’s a little creepy.”

I let go of her arm. “Just make sure to keep an eye out.”

She nods then motions for Bailey to follow her.

As Bailey passes me, she pats me on the back. “Glad to see you’re still good at making friends, sis.”

“Don’t you know it,” I tease back.

But all my humor eases down a bit as I climb into the car and note someone is watching me from the upstairs window of the house next door.

Great, only an hour here and I’ve already stirred up drama.