COMPLETED
Penn State University.
Home to the craziest sorority girls, most obnoxious football players, and a girl who never wanted to be there in the first place.
Ellie Webber hates Penn State. But she is only there because her twin brother is the...
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Ellie Webber
Wow.
I hated this sport.
As I watched another person get carried off of the field because of a rough tackle I reached for another sugar cookie. We made exactly 300 white, blue, and gray sugar cookies for the football team but if this game continues to look like paint drying that 300 would drop down to 50.
"You know," Grandma put a serving spoon in the fruit.
We were in the family lounge waiting for the game to be over. It was the fourth quarter and this game was more boring than the fingering I had received from Mitchell.
"You don't have to hang in here with me. You could go out there and hang out with your friends," She nudged me as I rolled my eyes reaching for my phone.
I had been refreshing my feed all day for a tutoring job. If nobody picks my subject to tutor in, I would have to find another job and fast. The one thing about my grandparent's; they didn't baby us.
Penn had a job as the local football coach for the elementary kids when he wasn't playing actual ball in the fall. I was always at the library so it was safe to say, Penn and I didn't mind working that much.
However, juggling college and work is a whole new ball game. As if my stressors weren't already through the roof I now had to add a job to that list. I never wanted to have a job in the first place in college.
I didn't mean any harm by stealing grandma and grandpa's credit card information.
I just wanted to try to have a new beginning.
But karma caught up to me as I was now miserable with my roommates and I had to find a tutoring job—and it had to be fast.
"I know," I muttered as I winced watching Reese Joseph throw his body into someone. God, imagine being plowed into by that body.
Oh wait, I could imagine.
"Ellie," Grandma's voice sounded concerned. Turning the volume down on the television, I turned to face the woman who sat down next to me. She didn't look a day over 54. She barely showed any signs of grays—but she recently dyed it. Her cheeks were still full and rosy, and she smelled like gingerbread.
