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I was wearing one of my favorite outfits. It was a special occasion, after all.
We very rarely went on road trips, this one was special. It was to celebrate me getting into college, and not just any college. I got into Princeton university. It was by no means an easy task, so of course my family thought camping and s'mores would be the best way to celebrate. I appreciated their support none the less, even if Ivy League didn't scream bug bites and firewood to me.
Nothing could make my smile fade.
Well— actually, there was one thing that could possibly ruin this trip—
"Do I have to sit in the backseat with Y/N?" my older brother Finn groaned.
Of course. Him.
I love my brothers dearly, but Finn can be quite the drama queen.
My dad sighed, already tired of the drama. "We've been over this, Finn. Your brother and Y/N have nowhere else to sit. End of discussion."
I flashed Dad a bright smile. Clearly, I was still the favorite.
"Yeah, Finn," I added, sticking out my tongue.
Finn kept complaining, so Mom cranked up the radio. Sweet Home Alabama blasted through the speakers.
Great. Just great.
Next comes the singing.
"Big wheels keep on turnin'..." Dad tapped along on the steering wheel, right on cue. I sank lower into my seat as my little brother Noah groaned beside me.
"This is gonna be a loooong trip," he muttered, dragging out the word like it was already killing him.
If there was one thing that might make this whole road trip bearable, it'd be watching Noah and Finn suffer through every minute of it.
Not that I was particularly thrilled either. The idea of staying in a small town wasn't awful—until we actually got here.
This place made my skin crawl.
I shoved in my earbuds and let my favorite song, F/S, drown out the static of my family. I pulled out a pen and notebook, letting the lyrics flow onto the page. Half-writing, half-doodling.
A sign blurred past the window:
"Welcome to Ambrose. Population: 352."
Three hundred and fifty-two people. That wasn't a town, that was a classroom.
Technically, I remembered reading that you only needed a hundred residents to legally count as a town. Still, something about that number felt... wrong.
We drove for a while longer, the music blaring, the arguments fading into the background. Then the car lurched slightly. Dad cursed under his breath and pulled off onto a quiet stretch of road.
"What's wrong?" Mom asked as he twisted the key and tapped the dash.
