The Perfect Snow (Seasons #1)

Chapter 1: Peregrine Hollow

Don't see me, don't see me...

"Fuuuuu—Hiii, Aunt Muriel! Bye, Aunt Muriel!" I wave and pick up my pace before she has a chance to speak. "Igottagoseeyoulaterokay? Okay!"

My aunt stands there, half out of her red Chevy, muttering something I'm too far to hear. Her outdated bouffant bounces as she shakes her head at me. I hurry down the road to put some distance between us. I love her, she's my mom's sister, and it's nice that she shows up to my grandparents' to say hello as soon as we get in, but right now? I just can't. I can't do the gag-inducing vanilla perfume that really smells like a car freshener (but we're all too scared to tell her that), nor the sort of high-pitched voice that makes every dog in a five-mile radius howl. And if I were to tell her what I think of her perfume? There would be eardrums exploding! Blood on the streets! I'm not that evil, sheesh.

Nope. No puedo. That's Spanish for why am I even here.

Usually, I can handle at least about ten minutes of Aunt Muriel before I bolt out the door, but not today. Not after spending three hours of my life that I will never get back sitting next to my hyper brother, Jake, listening to him add screeching noises to the already loud video game on his tablet—noises that I could hear, for the love of all things metal, through my noise-canceling headphones and music at full blast. I think he was going for engine noises. To me, it sounded like a parakeet dying.

I've decided three things after making this annual pilgrimage to the grandparents like a prisoner, strapped in the back seat next to a human torture device.

One: I have got to get out of these trips. I'm almost a college man, goddamnit. I'm too old for this nonsense.

Two: If I can't get out of it, I have got to travel in a vehicle that does not have Jake in it, even if it means I'm taking the train like a plebe.

Three: If my parents don't take Jake's tablet away, something very, very bad will happen to it.

A puff of white floats before my face and I remember I no longer have to run. My aunt can't see me anymore. And what Aunt Muriel can't see, Aunt Muriel can't pinch. I rub my cheek as I fish my phone out of my pocket and tap Preston's name on the screen.

"Rhys! My man! Arrived yet?" he says with labored breath. It sounds like he's walking.

"Eagle has landed. This place really is in the middle of nowhere," I drawl. "I don't know how you survive here."

"You can't understand until you are a Bryson man."

"That boarding school of yours has brain-washed you into thinking that living in a mountain town eight months out of the year is good for you. Hate to break it to you, but it's not. It's prison, you just don't see the bars," I say. "And the air is so clean, it disgusts me," I add.

"Anyhow," he clears his throat, and I picture him rolling his eyes. "I'm five mins from Starkey's."

"Excellent. I'm there in ten."

"Can't wait to see you guys!" He hangs up before I have a chance to respond.

He means me and Olivia. As in, my very ex, ex-girlfriend whom I'd rather not talk about today—or ever. I guess I will have to since Preston hasn't heard the rather stale news yet.

I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with crisp air carrying the scent of pine needles and fresh snow. The lake to my right peeks between the foliage, and down below I can spot string lights wound loosely around lamp posts, signaling the entrance to the town square.

Olivia and I broke up five months ago, and she hasn't been plaguing my mind as much since I found out that the guy she dumped me for also cheated on her. Karma has such a wicked sense of humor sometimes, I think to myself and smile. It's a smile that fades quickly when I realize I'm still a bit bruised by the ordeal, as much as I hate to admit it.