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AGE:Not telling you
LOCATION:NO
INTERESTS:MS. Writing things. Campfires. Sweaters. Sleeping in. Dogs. CHILDREN OF HYPNOS HOLY SHIT
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[Unique Works- 144]
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Nov 24 2016
SWEET POTATO PIE DAY.
Nov 28 2016
I have begun reading the work of human genius that is the Children of Hypnos. Why did no one ever tell me how great this series is? I’m holding you all responsible.
Dec 02 2016
So glad everyone’s loving the transcription! Morechapters on the way. Will try to get some of Auburn Blue up in the meantime, but can’t promise anything. Also STOP ASKING ABOUT CUTE GIRL FROM SCHOOL. Gosh.
Dec 13 2016
Going silent for a while. Midterms to study for. Will be around the boards, though. #Mathslaughter
Dec 19 2016
As a reward for surviving midterms, the fourth CoH book. No, I don’t care if the author is a nutjob. This had better end well.
Dec 19 2016
Yes, I was introduced to CoH by Cute Girl from School. NO THANKS TO ANY OF YOU.
Dec 21 2016
I am an absolute wreck of a human being, and right now I am completely okay with it.
CHAPTER 21
Iagree to meet Wallace’s family on the Friday before Christmas. For dinner.
I wash my nice pair of jeans again so they’ll start at their tightest fit and stretch out as the night goes on, and I steal one of Mom’s lacy shirts. I don’t even pretend to care what people at school think of my clothes, but if Wallace is going to look nice coming over to my house, then I’m going to look nice at his.
Before I leave, Mom hands me a bunch of flyers for her exercise group (“If any of his family is looking for a new workout, I’d be happy to have them. Let them know! Or if they work somewhere with a bulletin board, have them put those up!”) and Dad reminds me with a smile that whatever they eat for dinner is my cheat foodfor the week. My parents like to assume that anyone who isn’t our family eats terrible, unhealthy food. They also forget that I attend public school and therefore eat French fries five days out of seven.
Sully and Church, thankfully, are attempting to give each other black eyes over a first-person shooter in the living room, and don’t notice me leave.
Wallace lives on the other side of town in a one-story ranch home with a light-up Santa in the yard and a driveway that’s more mud than gravel. Two cars sit in a row, probably neither of them made after the year 2007; the one in the back is Wallace’s, or at least the one he drives everywhere, the same one his sister drives to pick him up from school. I pull in behind it. A warm light comes through the curtains behind the window in the front door.
I take out my phone.
MirkerLurker:So I’m here.
