Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Evelyn

I observe my father when he rolls down the window in the car and inhales deeply.

“Ah, can you smell the fresh air?” he chirps with a hint of wonder and excitement that only a true nature enthusiast can understand. He takes several deep breaths. I can see the joy in his eyes in the review mirror, as he takes in the beauty of the surrounding landscape. He is so excited that we are moving back to his home state, Idaho. I feel sick to my stomach, but I don’t want to spoil his mood, so I nod and hope he buys it. He glances at me through the review mirror, and I nod again. It seems to do the trick, and he smiles warmly at me.

We have been driving for hours, and my back is sore. I need to stretch my legs, and I want to freshen up.

Our black SUV is jam-packed with all the belongings the moving company didn't take. I'm 18 and still growing, so it's been rather uncomfortable sitting in the back seat with boxes piled up beside me. My mother and little sister are in the smaller car, a Toyota, with stuff too, but not as much as we have crammed in here. I tried to distract myself by counting the miles until the next town, but the empty stretch of the highway made me feel small and insignificant. I should embrace this new adventure, but all I felt was sadness.

“We are almost there, honey!” my dad says.

I compose myself and smile at my dad, and then turn around in my seat to look at the view of the horizon I can see from up here. The trees speed by as we get closer and closer to Idaho, the land of wide-open spaces. Something within me recognizes the landscape and settles deep within my heart. A feeling of sorts.

It's odd—coming closer to Bluehills, the small town we will move to, has replaced the previous melancholy with a sense of appreciation and yearning. Maybe my body can sense the connection to the home of all my forebears. I feel like a kid again, like I am about to head back home for Christmas or something. I’m all jittery, wondering if this move will erase all my terrible memories. My dad is getting more excited by the second and seems like he has regained his rookie enthusiasm, that had faded away over time during our stay in other states.

Several other states, in fact.

“Hey, dad, could we stop at the next gas station we pass?” I need a break from all the sitting, even though I know we are close to our new town. I’ve been awake the entire car ride. My mum and younger sister Allison are arriving a couple of weeks later than us. I can’t complain that my lack of sleep is because of the car ride. It’s my past and all the recent events that keep my brain processing. The memories and emotions all seem to vie for my attention, jumbling together in my brain. But this was the time for me to decide if I wanted to continue to be a victim of my past, or if I wanted to take control and make my future. With a deep breath, I slowly exhaled and realized I had to start now.

My dad sighs two times before answering my question. "Yeah, sure," he replies, his voice tired. He shifts in his seat, adjusting the armrest to a more comfortable position, and I watch as he glances at the clock on the dashboard. We had been on the road for hours now, and I could tell from the way he fidgeted he was just as ready as I was for a quick break.

But he seems hesitant.

My feelings have been all over the map lately and I think I need a break to clear my mind. I have told no one about my family's move to a different state, and I have my reasons. I left my previous home without looking back. The last few weeks were a tumultuous ride of emotions. My partner Eric and my best friend Carrie had been secretly seeing each other behind my back. Neither of them knows I have figured it out or that I'm moving away.

For all I care, they can all burn in hell.

There were so many signs looking back.

Eric would disappear for days without calling. Carrie would have this smug expression. Like she knew something I didn’t. And she did. Know.

Why not break up with me instead of keeping up this charade?

When Eric contacted me a few days later after I had found out, I didn't respond. I lied and told him I was unwell and therefore only wanted text. He bought it.

My family's move was a last-minute thing. They offered my dad a new job as a wildlife monitor. He observes and tracks wildlife. They offered him a position on the spot starting next week, so we left within a week.

Someone will ship there the remaining of our belongings. My aunt, who lives about two hours away from where we will live, is hosting my mother and my younger sister, Allison. So, they will stay there for a couple of weeks to rest and relax. I’m supposed to graduate from high school in one month, but I will do some online schooling.

"How about here, Evelyn?" As we get closer to a diner, my father suggests. “Can you go in and order us something while I drive to the gas station opposite the road? They undoubtedly have restrooms there as well.”

When the car pulls up to a stop, I step out and take in the scenery. I'm wearing a thin white tank top and tight blue jeans. My skin is a sun-kissed shade of bronze, and my hair is a long, golden hue. My frame is thin yet curvaceous, my height being around five feet and nine inches tall.

Based on the sign, I'm at Sandy's Diner, and it's a diner located outside of Bluehills. I can't shake the feeling that somebody is watching me. I take a quick glance around, but the surrounding area is empty.

The sun is slowly setting, and the air has cooled off. In the distance, I hear the faint sound of an engine and look up to see my father's black car pulling into the gas station. He waves at me briefly before heading inside.

I realize then that my sense of being watched must have been my father's gaze, even though I hadn't seen him until now. A sudden wave of relief washes over me, and my unease dissipated.

Despite being surrounded by a forest, the diner is located close to a major road. The woods are thick and old, giving you this eerie feeling that seeps into my skin and dress itself around my shoulders like a cloak.

I walk toward the main entrance and open the door. The moment the bell signifies that I have entered the diner, all previous conversation stops. I step further into the room and feel their gazes on my back like an invisible magnet, drawing me further inside. The bell above the door tinkles as it closes behind me, and the conversation slowly resumes.

The diner is small, but it is warm and inviting. An old-fashioned jukebox is in one corner, and they lined the bar top with mugs and bottles. I am surrounded by 20 different tables in the serving room, with everyone seated with their backs to me. The only person who is gazing at me is what I assume is the owner of the diner. The restaurant is quiet, and their heads are all slightly tilted upward, their gazes fixed on the ceiling. It almost looks like they are sniffing the air.

“Oh, my.” The woman that I assume is Sandy says.

“We don't receive many outside guests, so please come in.” I move closer as she signals with her gestures, and as I do, I hear a tremendous thump. I turn around to my right, and a man is lying on the floor with several other males on top of him, pinning him down.

“Is everything all right?” I remark to the elderly woman, Sandy, whose identity I can verify thanks to a name tag on her left chest, “Eh, maybe I should go.” My heart is racing so quickly that my head is spinning, and my sight is blurry. Something in this diner is making my senses go haywire.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. They are all brothers," she says, pointing at the pile of males stumbling around on the floor. "Sometimes, they need to clear the air.” It seems to be five males, all with the same color of sandy brown hair, and they all seem to be the same size.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should call the cops or something. It looks pretty intense to me." I can’t shake the suspicion that something is not quite right. Why isn’t anyone reacting? Why is no one paying attention to what is going on?

"MINE," a voice yells across the diner. “Mine,” the voice rasps. What in the world is happening? Who are these people? Are they fighting over some belongings or something? The whole situation feels off. My mind races, and a heavy weight seems to press down on my shoulders. I’m about to retrieve my steps and get the hell out of there, but there is a presence of someone behind me. I turn my head and I look at the most prominent man I have ever seen. He is well over 7 feet tall. He must be in his late forties or early fifties because he has gray hair, and his entire presence seems to demand your attention.

"Boys!" he shouts. "You are scaring the new customer. Stop." He demands. And you know what? They all stop. It’s almost like autopilot. The men drag one brother to the table closest to the backdoor. He has a hoodie covering his face, and I can’t see his features. "Don’t mind them, missy. They are just boys having a minor argument," he claims. But nothing seems small about that argument. The guy that was at the bottom of the floor has his face facing down the table, and his hoodie is still covering his face. He is breathing heavy. Strands of sandy brown hair slip out from beneath the hoodie, making me curious to see what lies beneath. The other guys are smirking and joking with each other except for him. “Is he alright?” I ask the tall older man.

“Yeah, it’s just hormones. Don’t you worry about my sons; they are aware they acted out.” The father pulls out one of the bar stools at the counter and motions for me to sit down. But why would I? Something is very off in here. But I feel the urge to please him, so I do as I’m told and sit down. Sandy goes to serve the others, and I try to focus on the menu.

“So, what brings you here, missy? By the way, I’m Gareth” the father tells me and gives me his hand to shake. “We are moving here,” I tell him. The man smiles, and for some odd reason, seems content with my answer. “I see. Is it only you, or are you moving with your family?”

“I’m moving with my family.” I can hear ruffled noises behind my back, which concern me, but I don't look over. It is time for me to order my food and get out of here as soon as possible. Dread is building up, and something is so fucking off that I want to leave. It’s cold in here, and I don’t wish to stay anymore.

I turn to Sandy and asks: "Can I place my order?" she smiles in response. "Of course, honey. Here, wear this - it's chilly in here."

I’m taken aback when she hands me a yellow hoodie. It is a strikingly bright hue, and it is adorned with a logo that I had never seen before–a howling wolf beneath the words ‘Bluehills Wolfs’. It was a simple but profound design, and it immediately caught my eye.

She passed me the hoodie, and I noticed its clear signs of use. It had been around for a while, and its many adventures were visible on the fabric. I took a deep sniff of the hoodie and a wave of contentment hit me. It was an amazing smell, something I had never experienced before. It was a mixture of comfort, familiarity, and joy. I was being hugged by the fabric, and I knew without a doubt that I wanted to keep this hoodie with me forever.

I put in an order for two dishes, one for my dad and one for me, and take a seat at the bar to wait.

The conversation lulled a bit, and I admired the atmosphere of the diner. The smell of fryer grease, the sound of clanking dishes, and the muted conversations of the customers that were there, all combined to create a feeling of comfort and familiarity, even though I never been here before.

"Eating here or take away?" Sandy inquired.

"Take away," I reply.

"Been to Bluehills before?" Sandy questioned. The diner was so quiet, too quiet. Was everyone was eavesdropping on our conversation?

“No, this is where my parents are from.” I sense everyone’s attention. The tiny hairs on my neck stand up. A chill runs down my spine, but not from the cold. I'm nervous. Did I say something wrong?

The father of the bickering guys queries me. “What’s your last name?” Apparently, I failed to notice the doorbell ringing, showing that someone had just come in.

My heart skips a beat as my father's voice rings through the room, calling my name, startling me with its suddenness. I had been so caught up in the conversation with Sandy that I hadn't registered the doorbell ringing, signaling the entrance of an unknown visitor.

My father walks up to me, his presence a comforting and reassuring one. His grey eyes hold a knowledge and depth I could never quite put into words. Everyone watches us silently, waiting for an answer.

Before I can respond, my father answers for me: “It's Black.”

The room pauses for a moment, the air tense. “Ah, now it all makes sense. Welcome home Mr. Black.”