The Rascals and I, on one afternoon we decided to stay in — probably because Hugo and I convinced the others. Video games didn’t get everyone quite as excited as it did the two of us.
Being divided in teams meant not everybody could win at once. Rare depiction in this pic of Romain and I wiping the floor with Hugo.
It’s possible that Hugo didn’t spend 100% of his teenage years sober.
Very much possible.
Out of all of our activities, gaming was probably the one Shanna was the least interested in. It showed.
Typical teenagers, the lot of us. Marie, sneaking a selfie before she transitioned fully to her later punk style. Photos of her in a T-shirt became a rarity. This selfie ought to be in a museum.
Charlotte and I were the best of friends. We absolutely were.
Though I did not realize it yet, many things were already brewing in this tight-knit group of friends I thought we were.
But first, I feel like I need to back it up a little. You probably remember our band of Rascals. As a group of teens, Hugo, Charlotte, Romain, Marie, Shanna and I were closer than ever. We were young, and handsome, and for some time at least, we worked perfectly together.
Together, we had the most amazing years.
But who were we exactly, you ask?
Charlotte was my best friend. She was sassy, funny, and in my eyes, and she had a terrific sense of style. Of course, we had very similar styles, so for teenage me, this was a validation of her and me both. Charlotte liked to make fun of people, but since her jokes were never about me, I could never find her really mean. It was, after all, all in good fun, wasn’t it?
Marie blossomed under Charlotte and my care. An introverted child at first, she slowly gained confidence, namely the confidence to show her true self through the clothes she wore. Perhaps influenced by Romain, we saw her ditch the shapeless shirts and large jeans and adopt the leather and plaid jackets. However, her confidence was fueled by the validation Charlotte and I provided, and that was the very basis of our friendship for the longest time.
Shanna was always aloof. Gorgeous, and confident on her own, she didn’t take any of Charlotte’s dubious jokes laying down. She had no problems hanging up on group calls because she was tired of us, or turning a girl’s night out down because she wanted to practice the guitar. Out of all of us, Shanna was probably the best friend you could have. She listened, didn’t judge, talked scarcely but always with great thought. It’s hard to be wise when you’re 16, but Shanna was closer to the mark than any of us. She grounded us all.
Hugo Lopez was new in town. He was barely aware of the hierarchy that exists between families around here. He was not a part of that hierarchy at all. All of my other friends had an ancestor whose name you could find in the region’s archives. The girls even had the same last name as me: no one alive could remember the time when the branches diverged, but the fact remained. Everybody in our group of rascals was descended from a founding family, but him.
What was beautiful about Hugo was, he did not care. He did not own a mansion, or a villa in Oasis Springs. He did not have any strings he could pull and that would guarantee him his dream job. But Hugo didn’t care that we did. He was a laid-back sim with his own ideas of what was important and what wasn’t. His own sense of wisdom.
Unfortunately, according to Hugo, the clothes you wore and putting your dishes in the sink when you were done eating — or better yet, washing them — wasn’t on the list of what was important.
And finally, there was Romain. A bit of an outsider as well, as he was not a member of the Stewarts family. He was a Barcet, a descendant of a family that had found shelter in Oasis Springs around the time that my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother was born, and quickly become the town outcasts. Outcasts though his ancestors were, he was a part of our community, which of course, came with some territory. Literally.
A handsome rebel with the same social status as mine — people rooted for us to fall in love.
And I guess we did. Romain and I, discreete though we were in our affection, were the Brindleton Bay it-couple. And the Willow Creek it-couple. And the Oasis Springs it-couple.
Romain and I, whether we wanted it or not, were the it-couple.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 