Every day, I walk the same route to school, past the well-kept houses where everyone knows everyone. But there's one house that never fails to unsettle me. Its shutters are always drawn, and its garden is overgrown. Even in the daylight, it seems to cast a shadow over the street, a dark spot in an otherwise bright neighborhood.
Today, as I approach, expecting the usual emptiness, a moving van catches my eye. A family is busy unloading boxes. Their laughter echoes through the air, out of place on this quiet street. A chill runs down my spine. The mother's tall frame and almost translucent skin give her an ethereal quality, but it's the way she glides—smooth and silent—that makes my skin crawl.
I shake my head, telling myself it's just my imagination. But as I pass by, I can't help but sneak a few more glances. Something about them feels off. The father's broad shoulders and intense gaze, the way the son moves with such ease—it all feels like a scene from a movie, scripted and rehearsed. My pulse quickens. Who are these people?
I'm about to walk on when I see a girl step out of the house. She looks different from the rest of them but similar, too. She's tall like her father and brother, with an athletic build and beautiful blonde hair, but unlike her family, her skin is kissed by the sun. She moves with grace but not the smooth, silent way her mother does.
I stand there for a few more minutes, frozen in place. What is it about them that feels so… wrong? I finally tear my eyes away and continue walking, the family's laughter fading behind me. I glance at my phone and realize I'm going to be late. With one last uneasy look over my shoulder, I rush to school, my mind buzzing with questions about our new neighbors. The sense of dread clings to me like a shadow.
I barely make it on time, sliding into my seat and hastily copying the notes on the board. My pen taps against the desk rhythmically, a nervous tic that helps me focus. The door creaks open, and Mr. Stetson introduces someone, but I don't look up until the chair beside me scrapes the floor.
A voice interrupts my thoughts. "Hi, can I sit here?" My breath catches, and I nod, quickly looking away.
"Uh, sure," I manage to say, my heartbeat suddenly louder in my ears. Who is this guy, and why does he feel so… familiar?
His presence is almost overwhelming, and I can't decide if it's curiosity or discomfort I feel. I shift uneasily in my seat, my fingers fidgeting with the cover of my favorite novel, a worn copy of The Scarlet Letter. I try to focus on the lesson, but the warmth of his proximity is distracting. Ignoring it only makes my unease grow.
Up close, his features are strikingly handsome, almost too perfect. His eyes are a shade of blue so dark they nearly look black, and his smile is easy, like he's used to people gravitating towards him.
Mr. Stetson's voice fades into the background as my thoughts whirl, trying to place his familiar face. After class, he chats casually with a girl at his locker. Recognition hits me—it's him, the son from the house.
He catches me staring. His smile widens, and he gives a small wave. His sister standing beside him, notices and shoots me a glare that makes my stomach drop. Flustered, I turn away, gathering my things quickly and moving to my next class.
He sits next to me in every class, his presence both comforting and unsettling. Why does he keep sitting near me? Is it just a coincidence, or is there something more to it? I sneak glances at him, trying to read his expression, but he seems completely at ease, like he belongs here. I blush, caught between my curiosity and the awkwardness of being watched.
By lunchtime, I've barely managed to focus on anything but him. Even in the crowded cafeteria, I can't shake the feeling of his eyes on me, as if he's always aware of where I am. I grab my tray and head to my usual spot, hoping to blend into the background.
The cafeteria is a symphony of noise—laughter from groups of friends, the clatter of trays, the occasional shout across the room. The smell of greasy fries and overcooked vegetables fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee from the teacher's lounge.
I settle into my usual spot at the back of the room, hoping for a quiet meal. But when the boy and girl from the house approach, my nerves tighten. My hands grow clammy, and I grip my sandwich, trying to steady my racing heart. The cafeteria's background noise fades as the sister's gaze locks onto mine, sending a shiver down my spine.
Her eyes are sharp, almost piercing, and her smirk is unsettling. I feel like I'm under a microscope, every detail of my reaction laid bare. I fidget with the edge of my napkin, my appetite disappearing as the tension thickens around us. The once-comforting hum of the cafeteria now feels oppressive, the simple act of eating lunch turned into a test of nerves.
The brother's cheerful greeting cuts through the discomfort. "So, it looks like we have a lot of classes together," he says lightly. His voice is friendly, but her stare makes it hard to focus on his words.
I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, we do."
"I'm Justin, by the way. And this is my sister, Natalia." He extends his hand, but I hesitate, choosing to just smile instead.
"I'm Sarah," I say, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.
Natalia's eyes narrow, her smile thin and without warmth. "You're not what I was expecting," she says, her tone dripping with something I can't quite place. My skin prickles under her scrutiny. I pick at my sandwich, appetite gone, wondering what game she's playing.
Justin tries to break the tension, but his efforts feel feeble against the oppressive atmosphere Natalia creates. Her eyes flicker with a strange curiosity, making me more uncomfortable. Every sound from the cafeteria—the laughter, the clatter of trays—seems distant and hollow compared to the unease Natalia brings.
As we sit in silence, I can't help but glance at them occasionally. Justin seems friendly enough, but Natalia's presence is suffocating. I wonder what their story is and why they chose to sit with me.
The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. I quickly gather my things, eager to escape. Justin and Natalia follow suit, and we head to our next class.
A storm of emotions churns inside me. Part of me is intrigued by Justin, wanting to unravel the mystery of his family. Yet another part warns me to be cautious. Why is he so intent on being near me? I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.
In the next class, I take my usual seat in the back, next to the window. I start to get my notebook, pencil, and highlighter out when I hear Justin talking to the teacher. I expect him to find an empty seat, but instead, he sits beside me again. My nerves are on edge. Why is he always near me?
Before I can say anything, Mrs. Shanda starts her lecture. "Last week, we talked about equilateral lines…" Her voice fades as my thoughts take over.
I need to figure out why Justin's family feels so familiar and why he seems so interested in me.
Our last class together is Literature, one of my favorites. I'm determined not to let him ruin it for me. I slip into my usual seat at the front, near the window.
"Okay, class," Mr. Lawson begins, "from here on, you'll be in assigned groups of two or three. You'll write a story that leaves the reader wanting more at the end. This will be your semester project, and I'll be assigning the partners."
I sit up straighter. This is something I can do—unless I get paired with him.
Mr. Lawson calls out names, finally reaching mine. "Sarah, you're with…"
Please not Justin. Please don't let it be Justin.
"…Justin."
I stifle a groan. Of course.
Justin turns to me, grinning. "Looks like we'll be spending more time together. If you want, we can meet up and get started today. I have some ideas if you're interested."
I force a smile. "Sure. How about the library? Their computers are a lot better than mine." I suggest the library, hoping the public setting will make me feel less uneasy.
"Okay, that works for me." He smiles and continues jotting down notes for the assignment, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort.
Mr. Lawson outlines the project, but my mind is elsewhere. I have a bad feeling about this.
As class wraps up, Justin remains engrossed in his notes. His enthusiasm is almost infectious, and I find myself softening a bit. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
Natalia saunters into the room, her gaze zeroing in on me. "Sarah," she says, her tone challenging.
"Natalia," I reply, nodding. Her smirk suggests she knows something I don't, sending shivers down my spine. How are she and Justin siblings when they're so different?
I walk out of class, looking for Justin to finalize our plans. After waiting at my locker for over ten minutes, I give up and head home. As I pass their house, I see Justin outside shooting hoops. Natalia and her mother are sitting at a table, reading. I lower my head and keep walking, the scene a stark contrast to my own solitude.
At home, I try to eat something before meeting Justin, but my nerves make it impossible to stomach anything more than a few bites. I decide to make some homemade mac and cheese, my go-to comfort food, hoping it will help calm me down. The familiar smell of cheese melting and noodles boiling does soothe me a little, and I manage to finish most of the bowl before checking the time. Realizing it's almost time to go, I quickly clean up, grab my bag, and head out the door.
When I arrive at the library, Justin is already seated at a computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. How long has he been here?
"Hey, Sarah!" he greets me, barely looking up from the screen. "Sorry, I had some ideas I didn't want to forget."
I can't help but smile. "No worries. I do that too—once inspiration hits, you have to run with it."
He grins at me, and just like that, the tension from earlier melts away. We spend the next few hours brainstorming and outlining our story. Justin's energy is infectious, and soon we're throwing ideas back and forth, building on each other's thoughts.
"How about a town that traps its visitors?" Justin suggests. "Once you enter, you can't leave without something terrible happening."
A shiver of excitement runs through me. "I like it. Maybe it's a small, remote town, the kind people warn you about. Nearby towns tell tales of people disappearing when they enter."
Justin nods, typing quickly as we brainstorm. "Should we add some fantasy elements? Like vampires and witches?"
"Absolutely!" I say, a grin spreading across my face. "Those are some of my favorite topics."
He laughs softly, his voice dropping to a whisper when a librarian shoots us a disapproving glance. "You think like me, Sarah. I knew we'd make a great team."
For a while, we just focus on our outline, the library fading away around us. As the time passes, I find myself relaxing more around Justin. He's funny, easy to talk to, and he has a way of making everything feel lighter. But just as I'm getting comfortable, Justin's voice turns serious.
"Can I ask you something?"
The change in his tone catches me off guard. "Sure," I say cautiously.
"Why do you seem… scared of me?" he asks, still looking at the screen instead of at me.
The question sends a jolt through me. My pulse quickens, and I fumble for a response. "I'm not scared," I lie, my voice betraying a slight tremor. "I just… I guess I don't understand why you're interested in being friends."
He finally looks at me, his blue eyes sincere. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." A faint blush colors his cheeks.
"It's okay," I say, my own face warming.
"It's just… hard being the new person, you know?" His smile brightens, and for a moment, my unease fades.
I'm in big trouble. I can already feel it.
"Can I ask you something now?" I venture.
He nods, looking suddenly tense. "Sure."
"Your sister… Natalia doesn't seem to like me. Did I do something to upset her?" I watch his expression shift, his eyes widening slightly as if I've touched on a sensitive topic.
"When it comes to Natalia… well, she has her own way of seeing things. It's not you," he says, his voice careful. "Getting her to explain herself is like pulling teeth."
I nod, sensing that pushing further won't get me anywhere. Sometimes silence is the best option.
As we're wrapping up our session, Justin's phone rings. He glances at the screen, and all the color drains from his face. "I have to go," he says abruptly, shoving his things into his bag.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, alarmed by his sudden urgency.
He hesitates, as if weighing whether to confide in me. "Just be careful, Sarah," he says finally, his voice low. His eyes flicker towards the library door, as if expecting someone to burst through at any moment. "There are things… you should be aware of." Before I can ask him to elaborate, his phone buzzes again, and he grimaces. "I really have to go," he mutters, hurrying out.
I watch him leave, a knot of worry tightening in my chest. I gather my things, the library's usual comfort replaced by a sense of unease. As I step outside, the cool evening air wraps around me like a cold embrace. The sky is darkening, casting long shadows that make the street feel unfamiliar.
I decide to take the long way home, hoping the walk will help clear my head. As I approach the old red-brick house on the corner, my steps slow. The lights are on inside, spilling out through the stained glass windows. Shadows flit across the glass, too vague to make out, but unsettling nonetheless.
I pause across the street, drawn to the house for reasons I can't explain. Just as I'm about to turn away, the front door swings open, and a figure steps out.
It's Natalia.
She stands framed in the doorway, bathed in the golden light from inside. At first, she doesn't seem to notice me, but then her head slowly turns, and our eyes meet. We stare at each other for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she raises her hand and points to the third-floor window.
I follow the line of her finger, squinting to see. There, behind the stained glass, a shadow moves. It's gone in an instant, but I could swear I saw the outline of a face. A chill runs down my spine, and I take a step back.
When I look back at Natalia, she's gone. The house stands quiet and still, as if nothing had happened. I'm left alone on the sidewalk, my heart pounding and my mind racing with questions.
What did I just see? And why do I feel like Natalia was trying to tell me something—something important?
As I hurry home, the image of the shadow behind the stained glass burns in my mind. For the first time, I consider talking to someone about this. But who would believe me? As I pass their house again, a flicker of movement catches my eye. A figure in the window, watching. A cold dread fills me. Whatever secrets this family holds, I have a sinking feeling they're about to pull me in—whether I like it or not.