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"Ready for your first day?" Patricia Andrews asked as her daughter trotted down the stairs buried in a faux-fur coat that they all knew was much too nice for this drab little town, but that never stopped Sloane before.
Sloane shrugged, grabbing a piece of buttered toast off the stack her mother made every morning. Hers was crispy around the edges but still a little soft in the middle with melted butter soaking the thing, just how she liked it. Her brother, Elliot, always thought she was crazy for liking partially burnt toast, but she couldn't care less.
"I just wish we could have moved a month earlier. Did you really have to pack up all our shit a month into the school year?" Sloane scoffed, earning an eye roll from her mother as Elliot came downstairs.
"Couldn't you have had your nervous breakdown a month earlier?" Elliot raised his eyebrows, earning a shove from the girl. He stopped himself from crashing into the dining table where their father sipped his coffee and read the newspaper like every morning.
Their mother glared at him, "Your sister's... incident was not the reason we moved. You know that, Elliot. Sorry, you couldn't finish your senior year with all your friends, but we all know this was for the best."
"Yeah, I just feel bad for all of Sloane's friends. Oh, wait, she didn't have any of those!" Elliot laughed, grabbing the only barely toasted piece and slathering strawberry jam on it. Sloane wanted to gag; Jam was a special hatred of hers and she had no idea how her brother ate it.
"Can you stop being such a dick? I'll walk to school if I have to," she snarled at her brother, trying to ignore the smug look on his face as she walked over to the shoe rack, holding her toast in her mouth as she pulled on some boots.
"Can you watch your language, please, Sloane? Ladies shouldn't cuss," her mother chastised, shaking her head at the girl.
Sloane sighed loudly and dramatically, "What is this? 1962? It's 1984, mom, let a girl say damn! Live a little!"
"What are you? A suffragette?" Elliot joked as he picked his backpack off the floor and tossed it over his shoulder. Grabbing his teas from the tin by the door, he shouted a quick goodbye to his parents and motioned for his sister to follow him out the door.
The one thing that hadn't changed in the move from California to Hawkins was the morning routine. Squabbling siblings, Sloane disappointing her mother, their father staying silent throughout the whole ordeal. Those five minutes in the morning were the only thing that felt like home these days. Sloane came up behind her brother and pinched his ear, causing him to wince and pull away from her, holding his ear so she couldn't reach it again.
"What was that for?" he questioned with a grimace as he unlocked his car. The two got inside where it was just as freezing as the October morning outside.
"For being an asshole! What's gotten into you this morning?" Sloane called out, slouching in her seat and crossing his arms. "Mom said you're supposed to treat me like glass, remember? I'm fragile!"
