The Firefly Crossover Attempt
Surrey, she decided, was a rather unremarkable place. If you thought about it, not that she ever really did, one home after the other was exactly the same, as though each one was specifically designed and built exactly to follow some unnamed, unwritten schematic that everyone followed but never really saw. Like a secret Government science project created to facilitate a common norm or discover whether or not random families from random places could be turned into mindless, automated drones as fake and monotonous as the homes they lived in.
Not that she was about to spout anti-government theses and multiple conspiracy theories, even if she wouldn't be surprised if they were true. She wasn't suicidal…. At least, she didn't think she was, at any rate.
Still, she found the place boring over all. Everyone pretty much ignored everyone else unless they were spying on them for juicy gossip tidbits to tell their book club members or fellow company drones. Just like that annoying woman three houses down who had peered out of her living room window suspiciously as she and her brother moved in, and who sent her small, horribly unsubtle glances every time she walked by their house on her way to and from the grocery store, which she seemed to do quite often.
She wondered if they could tell that she found them all to be incredibly dull people. Either that or they were immediately suspicious of new-comers to their flat, one-sided little world who moved in under mysterious (to them) circumstances and lived there for several months without once trying to make friendly. Or it could just be the American flag she hung in her bedroom window, owning a perverse pleasure to horrify, shock, or otherwise insult people. She blames Jayne for that. So did her brother.
It was through no fault of her own, she told her brother defiantly, that she didn't socialize. All of the kids she had met who were her age were as boring and ignorant as their parents. The boys were either too young to hang out with, too stupid to be interesting, or too egomaniacal to be interested about anyone or anything other than themselves. Rather like Jayne, she summarized, only without the bloodlust. She had only met three girls on her block, but if the rest of them were just as ditzy, make-up plastered, and image-crazy as they were, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them.
Seriously. And if he, her favorite and most beloved only brother, told her to go out and "find someone to hang out with instead of terrorizing the neighbors" one more time, she would oh so lovingly castrate him with a very dull spoon. Although, she did hope he wasn't getting sick; he did look a mite pale there for a moment.
The sum of her internal ranting, she concluded, was that she didn't like Surry and she wanted to move to somewhere a bit more interesting. Naturally, this decision was made within five minutes of actually being inside Number Eleven Privet Drive and she told her brother thus. His response was to tell her that if she didn't start unpacking within thirty seconds she'd be sleeping the floor for the duration of their stay there as all her belongings would go strait to the nearest dump.
Being incredibly mature, dignified, and sophisticated she did the first thing that came to mind and blew him a wet raspberry and promptly stomped upstairs, slamming her door for effect. Really, big brothers could be so bossy.