"Oliver! Get your ass down here right now! You're going to be late!"

For Christ's sake! That woman's voice could shatter all the glass in this overly pompous and far too futuristic-looking house. I aggressively stuff my notebook into my backpack, not caring that the pages are being bent and ripped, and head downstairs.

"For such a small woman, you sure are shrill," I say, meeting my Auntie's narrowed and pissed off eyes. "Are you attempting to communicate with your dogs?" I look down at her stupid Shih Tzu that's wearing a damn bow. "Your mommy's loud, isn't she?" The dog barks and I look back up at Bessie. "It seems as though Pebbles agrees."

Aunt Bessie crosses her arms and taps her foot against the marble-tiled floor of the foyer. "You mustn't speak to me like that, Oliver. I am not in the mood to deal with your shitty little attitude right now."

"Well, good thing I'm moving out of here then today, yeah?" I walk over to the console table near the front door and grab my motorcycle helmet. "You and Christian can have the house all to yourselves now that school's starting up."

My Aunt's boyfriend is such a twat. When he's not cooped up in the tanning bed, he's constantly droning on about his organic protein powder business and how he's going to revolutionize the healthcare industry. Seeing as his body weight is that of a fourteen-year-old boy, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that his future is as bright as a starless sky.

"God, I don't know why I agreed to be your guardian!" Aunt Bessie huffs, flapping her hands to her side. "This is precisely why I never wanted to have children."

I swing my backpack over my shoulder, rolling my eyes. "I think my father's money has something to do with it, no? Tell me again, how much is he paying you to be my babysitter?"

My Aunt Bessie is probably the poorest woman in Mycroft County despite living in the largest house. My uncle, may he rest in peace, was seventy-two fucking years old when Bess married him; she thought she hit the geriatric jackpot but what she didn't account for was his stupidly long and complex prenup.

Either Bess didn't read the damn thing or she's just as idiotic as she looks because when he died, Uncle Carlos's lawyer informed Bess that all his money would go to his kids, the only thing she would get to keep is the house; a house which she can't sell; otherwise, the profit goes to said children. It's almost laughable. But now that my father has offered Bess a substantial monthly allowance for watching me while I'm in America, she's been nothing but a bloody nuisance. But honestly, I'd rather live with Bess than my grandparents. Those people are fucking psychotic.

"They are not paying me nearly enough," Bessie scoffs, a smug smile on her botoxed face.

"Well, I guess your ass implants will have to wait until next year then," I retort with a smirk, twirling my helmet around my index finger. "How sad."

"Oliver!" she exclaims, her whole body tensing. "Why is everything that comes out of your mouth an insult? Can't you act like a normal human being just this once?"

"Hmm..." I purse my lips, my gaze flickering around the lavish front entrance. "No, I don't think I can. Sorry."

"Charming as always," Aunt Bessie mutters, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Your father wanted me to remind you of your agreement. You managed to stay out of trouble all summer, God only knows how. But remember, if you get kicked out of Hilton Prep he is going to withhold your inheritance until you turn thirty, is that clear?"

"Crystal," I mutter. I can't wait to get out of this God-forsaken hellhole. It's a shame that Hilton Prep is only a twenty-minute drive from here. I just know Auntie Elizabeth will be popping by whenever she damn well pleases to check in on me like I'm a fucking inmate.

"Well Bess, I'd say it's been a pleasure living with you for the past eight weeks but I was raised not to tell lies." I flash her my pearly whites. "I'll see you at Christmas break?"

Bessie clenches her jaw. "That is if you can make it until Christmas without being expelled."

"Fear not, Bess. I'll be on my best behavior. Straight arrow, you know me."

"I do know you, Oliver, that's the problem." Bessie pinches the bridge of her new nose. "Hilton is not like your other schools, okay? They will not tolerate any misconduct. You only get one warning and then you're out."

"In that case, I'll be sure not to get caught!" I wink at my Auntie and run out the front door before she can smack me upside the head. For such a tiny woman, her palm feels like it's made out of kevlar.

"All your belongings should have been delivered to your room earlier today," she calls out from the front door as I tug on my helmet and straddle my Triumph. It took a lot of pathetic begging but my father agreed to ship my baby to the US. "If you need anything else just use the credit card I gave you!"

Oh, don't worry Bess, I plan to put that black card to great use. I toss Auntie Bossy an animated thumbs up and kick start the bike.

"Open the gates, will ya?" I yell out, hoping she hears me over the rumbling of the engine. The brass gates begin to slowly open outward and I can't accelerate out of there fast enough. Farewell summer prison, you shan't be missed.

It took several weeks before I got used to driving on the right side of the road. Everything in this stupid country is ass-backward. How the fuck can people vote and be enlisted in the military at eighteen but can't buy a case of beer? And why does everything need to be supersized?

I've never even heard of Connecticut before Father exiled me from London. This state, or at least the area Bess lives in, makes me want to gouge my eyes out. Little cookie-cutter houses on every fucking block, porch swings, and enough golden retrievers to make a new Air Bud movie.

I'm over three-quarters of the way to Hilton, cruising down side streets when a black Hummer cuts me off, causing me to swerve and lose control of the Triumph. Before I know it, I'm skidding along the side of the road, my motorcycle bashing against the sidewalk and my body hitting the ground with a thump.

Fucking hell! Are you shitting me right now? I lay on my back and flip up the visor attached to my helmet. Who the fucks speeds down a residential street? I attempt to sit up but there's a dull ache pulsing in my lower back. I side-eye my bike that's two feet away from my mangled body. The front wheel is slightly crooked and there are scratches on the black paint.

Just as I try to prop myself up on my forearms, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Taking off my helmet, I reach inside my jeans and answer the call.

"What?!" I bark.

"That is not how a proper young man answers the telephone, Oliver."

"Mother," I sigh. "Calling me from a blocked number again?"

"Seeing as you refuse to answer my phone calls, I thought I'd try a different route. Clearly, my idea was successful."

"I'm hanging up now," I state.

"Oliver! Stop it!" she yells. "Don't you dare hang up on me!"

I roll my eyes, slowly sitting up. "Listen, mother, I just got run off the side of the road. For all I know I could have internal bleeding. Perhaps now is not a good time to nag."

I hold my phone away from my ear as my mother begins shouting. "Run off the side of the road?! Jesus Christ, Oliver! I told you that that monstrosity was a bad idea. I'm going to kill your father for allowing you to drive that death machine!"

"It wasn't the bike's fault!" I exclaim. "If you're going to put the blame on anybody, it should be the wanker that was driving the other car!"

"If you were driving a car yourself, you wouldn't be in this situation, now would you?"

Stretching out my neck, I stand up. Fuck, I'm sore. "I'm alright by the way, thanks for asking."

She sighs. "Does anything hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? Should I call Bess?"

"A lot of shit hurts, mother," I mutter, surveying my poor baby. If I remember correctly, Hilton has automotive as an elective option which means they probably have a shop at the school, but I'll have to roll her all the way there. Fantastic.

"Oh, don't curse darling, it's very unbecoming."

I scoff. "Apologies, I'll try not to say shit anymore. I know how much you fucking hate that."

"Oliver!"

I can't help but laugh. "Will you relax, mother? Remember what your doctor said? 'Frowning causes wrinkles'."

"Very funny darling! You'll be glad to know that you are single-handedly causing me to age prematurely." She pauses. "I swear, Oliver, I don't know what your problem is but your father and I have had enough! With your brother's upcoming graduation and your sister's engagement, we don't need any more stress!" Right, the golden children.

Propping my cell phone against my ear, I lift the motorcycle up and begin walking it down the pavement like a loser. "Why are you calling me? You've already shipped me across the Atlantic. How much stress can I cause you from five thousand kilometers away?"

"We did this for your benefit, Oliver! In order for you to have a bright future, you need an education. You need to attend all your courses. You need to be focused on your goals."

"What I need is to be back in London with my mates."

"Those boys are not your friends," she says, her tone strained. "They're degenerates and I refuse for you to be associated with them."

"God, you're so fucking judgemental! Just because they're not sons of oligarchs doesn't mean they're degenerates as you so kindly put it."

"They are the reason you got expelled from St. Augustine's and why you were thrown out of every other school we sent you to! Those boys were a bad influence, Oliver. I knew as soon as you told us they were older than you that it was going to be trouble."

"We were in a band, mother. We had to practice! You always told me that if I had a goal, I should do anything to reach it."

"Not by skipping class! Jesus-" She sighs. "I'm not having this argument with you again. One day you'll understand why your father and I did what we did. I just hope that Hilton Prep will be a fresh start for you."

I scoff, crossing the street. "You do realize that American teenagers are just as bad right? Do you really think that Hilton Prep is immune to degeneracy? God, mother you're so daft sometimes."

"I'm going to ignore that comment," she states calmly. "You are well aware of what is at stake and despite your behavior, I am confident that you will heed our advice and stay out of trouble." She pauses. "One more thing, your grandfather is hosting a fundraiser for a congressional candidate in a couple of weeks. You are expected to attend and be on your best behavior, do you hear me?"

"What? Since when is granddad into politics? He's a real estate developer for God's sakes."

"I don't know the details, Oliver. All I know is that your grandfather has gotten very well acquainted with Malcolm Redford and thoroughly supports his platform."

"Yeah, fine, whatever." She's so annoying.

"Alright, thank you. Well, I ought to be going now. Your sister and I are going wedding dress shopping."

"I presume her dress won't be white?"

"Oliver! Stop that! My God, how inappropriate."

"But accurate, no?" I shrug. They didn't call her easy Eleanor for no reason.

"Goodbye, Oliver," Mother says, her tone even. I can almost imagine the vein pulsing in her forehead. "I'll call you in a couple of days."

"Talk then." I hang up and continue pushing the bike to school.

Note to self: do not answer calls from unknown numbers.

______________

Ollie has arrived and he's uh- a bit of a dick.

Any initial thoughts?!

Ollie talking to Aunt Bossy like: