Friday 10th May, 2019.
I placed the only thing that mattered to me carefully on the desk. Wasting no time, I found the plug at the end of the lead, shuffling the desk forward to get to the socket behind. As soon as it was shoved in, I sat back on the naked bed.
The boom box, small for what it was, stared back at me. It looked fine on this foreign desk. It looked good there, I told myself. Good.
My hand dug in my jacket pocket, taking out the one black tape, scratched from years of wear and tear, that I'd put aside for today. Today - the day I still didn't know if I was dreading or excited about, even as it happened. It was the tape I was counting on to calm me down, numb the stress as I turned to see the piled boxes taking up most of the space.
This new bedroom was small enough without boxes making it hard to breathe in, never mind move around.
Rising to unpack, I sighed heavily as I heard the dreaded sound. "Brooke!" Came the strained call of my mother, "come help your father with the furniture!"
Putting down the tape, I pushed off the bed. "Coming!"
+ + +
The light had slowly faded to dark. The furniture was set up downstairs. My parents didn't need me for anything else, but sitting on this bed that didn't feel like mine yet was making me feel more dismal than I needed to be. Debating for a few moments whether it was worth causing a stir with my mother, one look around the room was enough to send me down the stairs.
"I'm going for a walk," I murmured, watching as my Dad's grey head turned toward me. They both sat on the couch, feet between them, eyes trained on the Friday night news. This house was small - you could see the shabby kitchen behind me, no doors between it and the living room.
"Where are you going?" My mother's piercing brown eyes pinned me to the floor; it was always hard to stand up to her. She had an intensity about her. . .
"Around the block," I shrugged. "I need some fresh air."
"Take your phone," Dad said, looking away again. The unbothered one. "Try and get a few boxes unpacked by the morning."
I nodded, hurrying toward the door. The walls were feeling closer by the second. Once outside, I gulped in the air before stepping down the driveway and turning to take in the house. It was strange, tiny. This whole town, in fact, was tiny. There'd been hardly anything online, so my research had been limited before the move. My friends had pestered, asking for pictures, but there hadn't been any. Like there was no town at all.
On the drive in, I'd noticed one thing in particular; how completely and utterly old everything was. Not dirty or falling apart, but outdated. The place looked like it belonged in some late-50s movie. Diners, arcades, gas stations with tall neon signs. . . I thought I even saw a few phone boxes, the big yellow kind.
Odd, but my heart pounded with blooming love for it. My entire life centred around the past; classic novels, 80s music, 90s movies. . . I couldn't believe how strange and brilliant Grove Hill seemed. And right now, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision to let my parents move.
I walked and walked. The road my house was on was a few blocks away from the centre where the neon brightness seemed to be; darkness had descended. Looking down at my loose jeans and thin jumper, the cold nipped.
Traffic lights, high in the sky, flashed. I carried on walking, phone a comfort in my jean pocket, until finally the sounds of voices could be heard. Laughter, chatter. I looked down the street, and the dark was broken by bright pink, electric blue lights. The din of the town drifted down, and I felt the familiar pull; the pull away from crowds, people, from places I could be forced out of my comfort zone.
Instead, I turned away from the lights and laughter, walking further away until it was quiet again.
My car was being dropped off over the weekend, just in time for school. With a shudder, I forced the thought back.
It wasn't long before my feet had strayed far, down a street with no houses at all. Looking around, the darkness seemed more sinister now; now that I was alone. Briefly, checking my phone, I saw with a jolt that I'd already been out for forty minutes. A call from my mother would be due any second.
Picking up the pace, I crossed under a streetlight, glanced to my left to see a random, thick row of trees on the other side of the road. It seemed so out of place, and I wondered idly why it would be there in the middle of the road. Like it was hiding something. . .
I darted around the corner and broke into a run, not stopping until I closed the front door.
+ + +
A beeping noise woke me up on Monday morning.
I tried to block it out. Strange, really. I'd never much minded getting up and going to school. But today, it was bound to be a disaster.
When sleep was far away, I peeled back the covers and got up. Or rather, sat up. On the edge of the bed. Unwilling to move further.
Everything had been unpacked. My parents had all but whipped me to do it, and now the books were on the shelves, brown rug on the wooden floors, notepads stashed in the drawers with make-up. The wardrobe was too small, but the king-sized bed made up for it. The walls were a pastel green, the only thing I completely - completely - disagreed with. I'd have to change that, and fast.
Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of the thin strip mirror wedged behind the door, examining myself. The school I'd attended back home had had uniform, despite being American - it was all girls.
Suddenly, I could wear what I wanted, and had to deal with ruthlessly noisy boys in class. Staring back at myself in the mirror, I studied; short hair, coming to the middle of my neck, the same dark bronze colour it had always been. Round-lensed glasses, the thin black-wire frames digging behind my ears. Average-sized brown eyes set in a pale face, slightly pointed nose, usually plump lips that were stubborn to stay chapped today.
I smacked them together, asking myself again if the dark jeans I wore made my legs look bigger than they already were. An average-sized, soft body was something I'd had to work with, trying my hardest to make the bigger parts look smaller, trying my hardest to make my tall body look somewhat slender.
It didn't work. The caramel-coloured shirt I wore today was a testimony to having given up with that, and just worn what I wanted to. So were the thick-soled white pumps on my feet, despite being just over 5'9.
I looked at myself. No break-outs so far, which was an excellent achievement with how much stress had been involved on the run-up to this day.
"Brooke!" My name hollered up the stairs. Mother. "Come get breakfast!"
I sighed, grabbing a black jacket and brown backpack, before trotting down the stairs. I took one look at the intricate breakfast laid out on the small, round kitchen table and shook my head.
"I'm going to be late, Mum." I mumbled. "Can I take a croissant?"
My mother's dark eyes landed on me, narrowing. "Do you really have to, Brooke?"
"I can't be late on my first day."
"Just go, darling," my Dad's deep rumble came from behind an open newspaper, two hands holding it up. "At least put some jam on it. Keep you going."
I leant forward, jamming it in a haste before grabbing it and the paper bag lunch off the side and fleeing.
I looked at my car. Yes, it was bright yellow. Yes, it was a Beetle. Yes, I'd wanted it because it reminded me of Bee from Transformers. People had to get over it already. Yet, I felt myself blush, already feeling other's scrutiny as I pulled up in it. Sue me, I thought.
Climbing inside, I started it up and turned the radio up loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I found the school easily. Not only was it the only one, and sign-posted everywhere, but I'd also been there over the weekend. To check it out.
Not that I was paranoid or anything.
As I rolled in, Grove Hill High School was brick, with white sandstone adorning the front. Large windows ran across the front, gardens surrounding it and the car park. I pulled in, experiencing Grease flashbacks.
Finding a space, I killed the engine. Then I sat.
Sat and watched. As out-dated as this town was, the people seemed to dress normally - jeans, jumpers, t-shirts, backpacks. I felt a bit better then.
Until I got out of the car, and turned around. My muscles locked; across the street was a church. Huge, towering above the school, a great big building, gleaming white marble. The sun shone through clouds, lighting it up.
It wasn't the magnificence of the church that made me stare, or the fact it was the biggest and whitest church I'd ever seen. Instead, it was the crowd. Like ants they gathered, spilling onto the street. Busy, yet calm in their slow, steady approach. All heading to mass, or some type of religious ceremony.
I blinked once, wondering if the still-growing crowd was just my imagination, only to find that it was still there, and very real.
So this was a religious town. A very religious town.
The realisation hit me like a wall. So forcefully, I rocked back on my heels. My parents hadn't picked this place for the 50s vibe and good high-school English programme. They hadn't picked it for me at all.
It was for them. To fuel their beliefs, to get closer to the Church. Was this because they couldn't go on pilgrimage?
I slammed the car door, turning away from the church like it burned my eyes. Keeping my head down, I adjusted the backpack strap on my shoulder, melting into the pattern every other student seemed to be taking; walking into school.
It was only a moment that I looked up. Two seconds. But it was enough.
There were four of them. Lounging on car bonnets, a thick cloud of smoke surrounding them. No wonder - each had a cigarette in their mouths; one had another in his hand. I would have carried on walking, if it wasn't for the car in the middle.
Beautiful, shiny, black. A perfect, gleaming classic.
I'd never seen one before, in real life, with my own eyes. After staring, practically drooling, for a socially unacceptable time, my eyes shot up at the sound of harsh laughter.
I looked at them; two in between cars, two on the bonnets. It didn't take long to realise they were all heart-breakingly handsome; two blondes, one ginger, one dark. Three of them were turned away - only one was looking at me.
The one slumped on the classic. I took in the mess of black curls on his head, falling into eyes that were just as dark, watching me with a scrutiny that sent me running two seconds later. As I darted away, I thought I heard the same sound; harsh, cold laughter. It followed me all the way through the front doors.