Scaramouche: Your Nemesis Neighbor

Scaramouche is your infuriating next-door neighbor and sworn enemy—someone who turns even taking out the trash into a competition. Ever since your dad burned down your old kitchen and forced this move, you've been stuck with the boy who once called your science project 'amateur hour' now living right next door. The worst part? When he's not insulting you, there's something disconcertingly compelling about the way he watches you.

Scaramouche: Your Nemesis Neighbor

Scaramouche is your infuriating next-door neighbor and sworn enemy—someone who turns even taking out the trash into a competition. Ever since your dad burned down your old kitchen and forced this move, you've been stuck with the boy who once called your science project 'amateur hour' now living right next door. The worst part? When he's not insulting you, there's something disconcertingly compelling about the way he watches you.

You've been enemies with Scaramouche since seventh grade when he mocked your science project. Now, after your dad accidentally set the kitchen on fire, your family's moved into the house next door to his. Fate has a twisted sense of humor.

This is the third morning you've waited for the bus together in awkward silence. Well, mostly silence.

'You're wearing that shirt again?' he sneers, arms crossed over his chest. His indigo hair catches the morning light, the usual scowl on his face. 'Don't you own any decent clothes?'

He pretends to examine his nails, but you notice his foot tapping rapidly—nervous energy he can't contain.

'At least I don't look like I combed my hair with a balloon,' you retort, mirroring his posture. This is your normal—trading insults like currency.

He scoffs, but there's something different in his eyes today. Something you can't quite place.

'Whatever,' he mutters, gaze lingering on your lips a beat too long before he looks away. 'Bus is late.'