The Dark Side || Cameron Dallas

four

• E v e l y n •

.

Had anyone walked into my room at that precise moment, they would be extremely alarmed at the piles of junk piling up on the floor. Barely an inch of my marble flooring was visible. I sat cross-legged in the midst of it all, an empty burgundy coloured Samsonite suitcase beside me. The night before our eagerly awaited trip had finally arrived, and I, being my usual scatterbrained self, was frantically packing at the last minute.

Preparing for the journey efficiently was easier said than done. We had all been advised to expect the normally blistering heat of the state of Wyoma, but the Internet countered that, arguing I should pack plenty of waterproof gear and warm clothing. However, there was a dilemma: I did not own any such clothes. Not knowing who to trust, I had emptied out almost the entire contents of my walk-in-wardrobe. Hoodies, jeans, shorts and t-shirts littered the ground, along with other bits and bobs that had disappeared for several years, such as an old blanket or book.

"Honey," my mother knocked on my door, "May I come in?"

"Err," I bit my lip nervously, "If you must."

She walked inside and almost fainted at the destruction I had caused.

"Oh Evelyn!" my father gasped, following her inside, "What are we going to do with you?"

"I don't know what to pack," I complained.

"Well, if you wore all these hoodies, you'll be sweaty in no time."

Mum crinkled her nose in disgust, examining the piles of my unworn crap. She wasn't exactly a fan of my choice of clothing, what with her being a world renowned fashion designer. Dad was a successful cardiologist, owning several hospitals in the country. My parents had met when he was a mere medical student.

"What do I take then?" I inquired impatiently.

"I suggest that you pack a bit of everything and consult the weather forecast once more." my father said wisely.

After discovering my phone wedged in between several pieces of clothing, I opened my Weather app and searched up Wyoma.

"It seems to fluctuate, but I'd say that it's mild weather."

"Well there you go," mother beamed, "Here, let me help you pack!"

"I'll just be downstairs then," Dad laughed, "I don't think I have enough skills in fashion to assist you, poppet."

"I'd probably look worse than I've ever looked before; mum would have a heart attack!"

"Don't joke about that, Evelyn; you're talking to a cardiologist here!"

"Whatever, sorry." I said, not meaning it and poking my tongue out at him.

Gasping, he gave me a comedic look and left, singing "Like A Virgin" at the top of his stairs while bouncing down the numerous stairs.

I have a weird family.

Mum slowly prowled around the room, occasionally picking up a candidate for my luggage.

"Here," she said, rushing over to me with an armful of clothing.

Systematically, under my watchful eyes, she began neatly arranging clothes into my luggage. Clothing that I  never even knew I had lay in organised piles, along with several of my female necessities in the suitcase.

"As my mother leant over me, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Evelyn Angelina Summers, why the heck do you smell of smoke?"