Chapter 1-Sloane- ten years ago

I jump off the school bus and run down the driveway so quickly, my braids flap in the wind behind me, and I’m careful to keep a tight grip on the pink envelope in my left hand, so the wind doesn’t snatch it away. I smile to myself as I throw open my front door, wipe a coating of pink glitter off my free hand onto my jeans, and then toss my backpack down by the entryway. I kick my sneakers off next, barely slowing as I make my way down the hallway. The house smells familiar, of apple cinnamon melted wax, which Mom likes to leave all over the place in those decorative warmers. Even though we’ve moved for Dad’s job so many times I’ve lost count over the past five years, that scent is the one thing that always stays the same, the smell of home.

“Mom!” I call out happily.

I follow the sounds of a musical number into the living room and find my little sister CeCe dressed as a princess dancing along to her favorite cartoon. Well favorite this week anyway. I’ve heard this song a million times already, but I’m in too good of a mood this afternoon to complain or try and steal the remote. Her little face beams at my entrance and I can’t help but smile back.

 We don’t look anything alike really, my hair is straight and black, and my eyes are dark blue, while Celeste has golden eyes and hair. I look like Mom and CeCe just looks like herself, though Dad says he had blond hair when he was a little kid too.

“Lolo!” my sister ambushes me with a hug around the knees, “I made a rainbow at school today, but Bradley tore it and had to go to the reflection mat. But Trina made me feel better when she shared her cupiecake at lunch with me and some doggies visited our class today during reading time and my favorite was the yellow one name Penny and I got to pet her lots!”

I snort as my little sister rambles on about her latest adventures of half-day preschool. She made friends easily even though this is her second preschool class in the past six months. She barely talks about the other one anymore, as if she’s forgotten it and the last town we moved from altogether. Maybe that’s for the best, because I sure haven’t forgotten our old school and the two friends, I’d managed to make in the four months we lived in Timber Falls. I promised this time would be different and so had Dad. That this time I’d make more friends and get invited to their parties, and Dad promised this time we wouldn’t move again so soon. Things were starting to look up for me already, proved by the invitation I still clung onto in my hand, afraid I’d lose it.

“Where’s Mom?” I finally ask when I get a chance to get a word in around CeCe’s account of art class when the troublemaker Bradley tried to eat his macaroni necklace.

“In the kitchen making cookies. She said I could decorate some with sparkles!”

CeCe had been corrected more than once that it was called sprinkles, but in her world most things were sparkly, and I didn’t bother to correct her now. Besides Dad found it cute, her misuse of words and mispronunciation, but as a former newspaper editor, Mom still tried to steer my little sister in the right grammar direction.

Mom had quit her job to stay home to take care of me after she was robbed in the parking garage of her work about five years ago. The robber had hurt her pretty badly and she had to spend a few days in the hospital because of it. All the kids in my first-grade class had made her get well cards. When Mom got out of the hospital, we had moved out of the town I had been born in because she no longer felt safe there. Even now, Mom still got nervous and jumpy sometimes, especially at night. She watched the news a lot and made sure all our windows and doors were always locked, even though Dad did the same thing. They also had gotten us a dog to help guard the house, though he proved to not be much of a watch dog as he liked to lick strangers and demanded to be pet by all who entered.

 My sister was born in the bathtub of that first new house one night. Dad liked to joke Celeste was so impatient right from the start, that she wouldn’t even wait until our parents made it to the hospital. They waited until the next morning to go get her and Mom checked out. Then we moved again not long after, into a bigger house on the east coast. I’d lost track of some of the moves along the way until here, now in Camden. This house wasn’t so bad and had plenty of room for us. I was starting to like Camden even more now, even though there was no ocean nearby like in our last town. I loved the beach. Though my little sister seemed to hate the water. Even bath time was a nightly battle with her and our parents.

Lucky for me, that little sister of mine, also has a short attention span, so her eyes have already wondered back to the TV, allowing me to make my escape while she belts out a tune at the top of her little lungs. She certainly hadn’t gotten Mom’s talent for singing, but neither had I really. In that way, we are alike.

I skip into the kitchen to tell Mom the good news of my plans next Saturday night. That the most popular girl in Mrs. Stenson’s fifth grade class, Rain Welsh, has invited me to her make-over slumber party next weekend. And not every girl in class had gotten the invite, only ten had made the cut to help celebrate her 11^th Birthday. I could still barely believe it myself.

“Mom! Guess what. You’re not going to believe this!”

I round the curve into the kitchen and stop short. Mom was in fact making cookies, a tray of chocolate chip ready to go into the oven, but it was the sight of those cardboard boxes which has me frozen. My stomach squeezes tight, and my breath gets stuck. Mom is making my favorite cookies for a reason this afternoon.

“Hey sweetie. How was your day? What did you want to tell me?” Mom asks cheerfully.

Ignoring the stack of cardboard boxes on the floor as if they didn’t exist. Her eyes look a bit red as if she has been crying recently. But now I was too many things to care. I squeeze the envelope tighter in my fist, feel the paper start to crumple in my heavy grasp.

“We’re moving again?” I hiss out.

Mom keeps her smile in place though I notice it dims a bit, “Yes, Daddy just got word about a job transfer.  It’s a great opportunity for our family. He’s taking us out to dinner tonight at that pizza arcade place you girls like so much to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to move again. I like it here.”

Mom sighs and picks up a dish towel to wipe her hands. I know what she’s going to say before she does. We’ve had this conversation many times before. But this time feels different, harder than the last. I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m eleven, and I don’t want to start over in some other town. I want to keep the friends I got, to stay in this house on Cherry Tree Lane, and talk about the boys in Mrs. Stenson’s class, and go to the pool this summer with my new friends. We made summer plans. This time isn’t like the last.

“I know you do sweetie. But I’m sure you’ll make new friends in Shady Oaks. It’s a beautiful tow-”

I stamp my foot even though I knew it was something CeCe would do, “I don’t care! I don’t want to move again! I like it here, I like my friends here and…and Dad promised we wouldn’t have to move again so soon! It’s only been three months! Dad promised!”

I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. But I can see the hardened look on Mom’s face as she crosses her arms. It had already been decided, and I had no say in the matter. What I wanted didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry Sloane, but your father has already accepted the job. We move on Friday and we’re all just going to have to make the best of it. That’s just the way it is. One day you’ll understand.”

Mom turns away from me, opening the oven to place the cookie sheet inside. I stand in the threshold of the kitchen, for a while longer as my emotions consume me. The sour taste of sadness coats my tongue, but my anger is an even more bitter pill to swallow. The invitation collapses in my hand, bites into my palm uncomfortably, as I ball it up.  I eye the trashcan. Another broken promise. Another new house, another new town, another fresh start of awkwardly being the new girl and sitting at lunch all alone.

“All I understand is you’re ruining my life,” I grit out through clenched teeth, “and I…I hate you!”

Mom’s face falls into a hurtful look. I’d never said such ugly words to her before. But in that moment, I meant them, and I feel them, and I want her to hurt the way I do! She says nothing as I turn and run from the kitchen, nearly tripping over our golden retriever Max who’s awoken from his afternoon nap. He’s lured to the kitchen by the smell of baking cookies and raised voices. I skirt around him, not even stopping to give him a scratch behind the ears, as I take the stairs two at a time. My tears are already falling by the time I slam my door shut behind me. I throw the envelope in the wastebasket by my desk and fling myself across the bed. I cry bitter tears until my pillow is wet, I’m exhausted, and I fall asleep.

I didn’t know how much time has passed before I’m awaken by several knocks on my bedroom door. I sit up and wipe the sleep from my swollen eyes. It takes me only seconds to remember what had made me so upset that I had cried myself to sleep in the first place. There’s still a trace of glitter on one of my palms. The envelope still sparkles from my trashcan. I groan and consider putting my pillow over my head to drown out the noise.

“Sloane, kiddo? Can I come in so we can talk?” comes Dad’s voice from the other side, “besides it’s time for dinner. Mom made your favorite spaghetti and with extra meatballs.”

“Go away! And I’m not hungry. Just leave me alone.”

“We really need to talk,” persists Dad, “I’m coming in.”

So, he did, after first popping his head in to make sure it’s safe to enter. I didn’t look like my dad really; except I have his dimpled chin.  His hair is brown and curls wildly around his ears and neck, so much that Mom is always trying to tame it with her fingers or hair gel. But nothing ever seems to work for very long, especially after it’s rained. He is tall and lean and really strong and likes to laugh way more than Mom. He lets me off the hook with only a warning a lot more than she does when I misbehave and he never yells. Sometimes Dad is my favorite, though at the moment, I am mad at them both.

I cross my arms as he comes to sit down on the edge of my bed. My fingers fiddle with a loose thread on my tie-dye blanket and I avoid looking at him. It’s harder to stay mad at Dad for as long as Mom because he seems to understand me better. He says me and Mom are too much alike for our own good. 

“Mom told me what happened earlier, kiddo. I know you’re angry Sloane, but you need to apologize to her for what you said. You should never tell someone that, especially because those are the type of words you can’t always take back.”

I feel a moment of shame. But I’m not ready to apologize to her just yet. I’m still hurt and sad. I’m still tired of being treated like a little kid and getting no say in my own life. Moving again should be a family decision. Yet I have no voice in this family, at least when it comes to Mom anyway. Dad tends to listen more than she does. Maybe there’s still a chance we can stay. So, I try a new approach to soften Dad.

“I’m sorry Daddy…but I just don’t want to move again. You promised me we could stay here through the summer this time. And I made a lot of friends here. I even got invited to Rain Welsh’s sleepover next Saturday.”

“Thee Rain Welsh? The most popular girl in school? The one with the horse and the inflatable waterslide in her backyard?”

Dad actually listens to me all the times I ramble on like CeCe while Mom usually seems to get lost in her own head somewhere along the way. I feel hope rise inside me. Surely Dad can see how much this means to me. Surely, I can convince him to stay in Camden.

“That’s the one. And I like it here. Please Daddy. Can we just stay here a while longer? I don’t want to move again.”

I give him my best puppy dog face. The one Max gives me when I’m eating ice cream. Dad lets out that long breath much in the way Mom did earlier in the kitchen. He pats my knee.

“I wish we could stay through the summer kiddo, I really do. But I need to do what’s best for our family. You’re getting older Sloane, but there’s still some things your too young to understand. One day I’ll explain it to you. But I think we could push back the move until Sunday so you can go to the party.”

I pick up my stuffed unicorn and toss it off my bed. It hits my mirror and bounces to the floor.

“It’s always one day and you’re too young! Just tell me the truth Dad. I’m not a little kid anymore. Is your job really the reason we’re moving, or is it because of Mom?” I demand.

Mom thought I hadn’t noticed the way she had reacted to a story on the news yesterday morning. The way her face had paled, and she had nearly spilled the milk as she poured it into a bowl for CeCe’s cereal. The reporter was talking about a rise in animal attacks around town lately, presumed to be coyotes, carrying off people’s dogs, and a hiker was killed on a trail in the canyon. Mom had been more on edge since she watched the news that morning.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” says Dad as he ruffles my hair, “but you need to cut your mom a break, Lo. She’s been through a lot, and we need to do whatever it takes to make her feel safe.”

I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. It’s been more about making her feel safe than Dad’s job over the past few years, now I’m sure of it. There’s a word I heard on TV about the things Mom does, it’s called being paranoid. The way she won’t let me walk anywhere alone or even let me go down an aisle by myself at the grocery store, she won’t let me have any social media accounts and blocks all those apps on my phone, she always looks for the back exit wherever we go and has made us run safety drills at all our new houses, to memorize our family meet up point in the event of a fire or something. We keep bags with essentials for us all packed at all times and kept in the car. Mom never seems to relax and I think she’s afraid of the dark. Our yard has motion detecting lights, and the house is never completely dark, there’s a night light in nearly every outlet.

“We are safe here Dad. As safe here as anywhere else. The crime rate here is low. We have lights everywhere and I know you keep your gun in the lock box under your bed. And we have Max too. What more do we need?”

He smiles and kisses my forehead, “Max is a vicious guard dog. He’ll lick any intruder to death. But kiddo, we need this move. Camden is no longer the best place for us. You have a right to be sad and angry about that, but please don’t take it out on your mother. It’s hard on her too.”

“It’s hard on all of us. I’m going to be the new girl again. I hate it. It’s not fair.”

I pick up the stuffed animal which survived my anger on the bed earlier. This one is a bumble bee and I hug it against my chest. Dad moves to get off my bed, he stands to his full height. I once thought him the tallest, strongest man in the world, but now he looks tired and not so big at all.

“Growing up is hard kiddo. I really hope you’ll join us for dinner downstairs and then game night. It would mean a lot to Mom.”

“I’m not hungry. And I’m not in the mood for games,” I sulk.

My eye catches the envelope again in my trash. I squeeze the bee tighter. Maybe in the next town Mom and Dad will let me be homeschooled.

“Okay, well I really hope you reconsider. If you do, you know where to find us,” Dad stops at my bedroom door, “and I’ll talk to Mom about staying in town until after the sleepover.”

“What’s the point? We’re leaving and I’ll never see any of those girls again.”

“I’ll leave that decision up to you Sloane. But one day you might just regret not saying goodbye. I love you kiddo.”

“I love you too Dad.”

He leaves the room pulling my door closed behind him. I think over his words and wonder if going to Rain’s party will make leaving Camden forever better or worse. One final chance to say goodbye and have a good time with my friends. I grab my sketch book and make an angry drawling that seems to have little purpose and sense, just dark lines, and blurred edges that stain my fingers from the charcoal. I’m not much good at drawling either.

I spend the next couple of hours in self pity and boredom. My parents won’t let me have a TV in my room, and my phone has a parental lock feature which restricts what I can do on the internet and most of the apps. I do send a few texts to Rain and Amira though I didn’t tell them about me moving just yet. I scroll through what I can of their social media accounts through the phone’s browser, but since their accounts are marked private, I can’t see much. I’m the only girl in school who doesn’t have accounts, who isn’t allowed to post pictures to share with my friends. The only reason Mom lets me have a phone at all is so she can call me whenever she wants when I’m not home. And she does, like a trillion times a day. Paranoid.

Finally, I cave as my grumbling stomach gets the best of me and I head downstairs. My parents sit around the coffee table playing a baby game with CeCe. She gives the spinner a flick, her blonde pigtails swaying with the motion, and Dad helps her count out the number of plastic cherries to remove from the board. Dad smiles at me, but Mom doesn’t. She takes a sip of her wine, the one which helps her relax a bit before bed. I know I hurt her feelings earlier in the kitchen, but I still can’t bring myself to say sorry just yet.

“So glad you decided to join us kiddo. We can restart the game, CeCe doesn’t mind,” says Dad.

 “I’m winning Daddy! I’m kicking your butt and I just need,” my sister counts on her fingers until she comes up with a number, “six more turns to get all the cherries picked!”

Mom sets down her glass of wine, “Count the cherries again darling.”

While CeCe touches each cherry left in turn, counting them aloud, Dad reaches into the box to pull out the pieces to set up a cardboard tree of cherries for me.

“I’m not playing. I’m just getting something to eat,” I announce.

“That’s a shame. We’ve missed you,” claims Dad.

Mom gets to her feet to head me off on the way to the kitchen. My sister uses the distraction to add another cherry on Mom’s tree. She giggles afterwards.

“Sloane, we need to talk,” says Mom.

“I’m really tired. I just want to get some food and go to bed, can’t it wait?”

I grip the banister and think about retreating up to my room. But I’m really hungry and I have no more snacks left up there. CeCe found them the other day when I was at school and helped herself. At least she hadn’t touched my makeup this time.

Mom shares a look with Dad, he gives her a nod.  Mom stops following me towards the kitchen.

“Alright, we’ll talk in the morning then.  Don’t leave the dishes in your room overnight. Good night. I love you.”

I nod and make quick work of heating up my food in the kitchen. I don’t stop to talk to my family on the way back up the stairs. I scarf down the spaghetti like I haven’t eaten in three days. Then I hole myself up in my room until I hear the house grow quieter and darker. I can hear the TV in my parent’s room and see the light under their door. I know CeCe has long been put to bed, dreaming with her teddy bear in the glow of the fairy lights wrapped around her toddler bed. Mom isn’t the only one in this house who doesn’t like the dark.

 I creep past their rooms and make my way quietly down to the living room. Undetected by everyone but Max, who leaves his spot by CeCe’s bed to follow me down to the kitchen. There I make myself some popcorn and grab a grape soda. I plant myself on the couch with the remote in hand and browse through the channels to find a horror movie, the kind Mom never lets me watch, the kind I love. The one good thing about the move here was our old TV got broken in the moving truck, and Dad forgot to put the parental passcode on this one yet. I smile in triumph as I find a gory, slasher film.

I use the couch pillow to bite down anytime I’m afraid I’ll scream and try to keep the volume low. I tuck my feet up into a blanket, my heart pounds in my chest at each jump scare and kill on the screen. But no matter how scary it gets, I never cover my eyes, I want to see it all. Max curls up on the couch beside me and eats any stray pieces of popcorn I drop.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and I quickly change the channel. Dad appears seconds later with a smirk on his face as I play innocent. I pet Max on the head.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hey kiddo. Whatcha watching? Is that the weather channel?”

“Yeap. Sure is.”

He approaches the couch still smiling and bends down to kiss the top of my head. Max wags his tail and leans up to give Dad a good sniff so he gives the dog a good scratch. Dad is smart enough to pull his face away before he gets a dog tongue across his mouth.

“Don’t stay up too late. And don’t tell your mother. I think Farm of death was way underrated. Goodnight. Love you squirt.”

I giggle at being busted but also Dad keeping my secret. He steals a handful of my popcorn, with Max gobbling up the pieces that fall from his hand. I promise him I won’t stay up all night and I won’t tell Mom. Dad goes to the kitchen and gets himself a bottle of water, before taking Max out to go to the bathroom. Then he makes sure all the windows and doors are locked a final time before turning in for the night. I turn back on Farm Of Death just in time to see a scarecrow come to life and chase a couple through the corn maze with a machete.

My eyes grow heavy just before I make it to the end credits, Max is already asleep curled at my feet. When my eyes open again, it’s to the sound of him barking. I mute the TV and find him at the back door, the night pitch black, the moon quarter full in the sky above. Something triggers the flood lights in the back yard, though it’s not uncommon with all the deer around here. I stumble to the kitchen and peer out. I don’t see anything. The glow on the stove tells me it’s just past two a.m.

“Max, there’s nothing out there boy. Shush before you wake up the whole house!”

Even though I don’t see anything in the backyard, doesn’t mean there’s not some kind of animal out in the bushes or something.  But I’m not afraid of the dark and I like that buzz in my chest that comes with being scared. Besides the yard is well lit. Maybe Max has to go pee. I grab his leash and snap it to his harness, careful not to give him too much slack. His favorite spot to do his business is on the bushes near the back door. It’s not like Max to pull on the leash as he is well trained, but that’s what he does as soon as I open the door. He nearly jerks me off my feet and I struggle to keep him from tearing free across the yard. He continues to bark at something, his fur raised and his ears up.  I drag him back towards the house.

Dad sticks his head out the window from the floor above and scans the yard, “What’s going on out there, kiddo?”

“Just a deer or something. I took Max out to go to the bathroom and he won’t stop barking. I’m going to bring him back in.”

“You know we don’t like you going out after dark alone, Sloane. Come inside and I’ll come down and check it out,” advises Dad.

Mom’s head appears beside Dad in the window, she clutches her robe with pale fingers, “Get inside right this instant young lady! What have we told you about going out after dark! Now! You’re in trouble!”

Mom’s voice turns frantic. I sigh, knowing this time I won’t get off without a warning. I pull the barking dog back across the patio.

“To not too. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

I make it back inside and shut the door. Max keeps right on barking until I bribe him with a scoop of vanilla ice cream from the fridge.  I can hear my parents arguing upstairs. I sigh again and return the pint to the freezer as Max happily licks at his treat.

“You got me in trouble buddy,” I tell the dog, “so I’ll probably be grounded next weekend now anyway.”

I shut the freezer door and I jump. A man is standing in our kitchen. I blink a few times just to make sure I’m not imagining it or am still asleep. But he’s still standing there. He’s covered in dirt with torn clothes, matted hair, and smells like a boy’s restroom. I have to crane my neck up to look at him as it seems his head nearly touches the ceiling. I’m stuck again.  I want to make a sound but I can’t. I want to run but I can’t.

He places a dirty finger to his lips.

“Don’t scream,” he warns, “scream and I’ll kill your father first while I make you watch…”