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▒Chapter One▒

▒Chapter One▒

2014

I lift the last cardboard box from the back seat of my dingy, little hatchback, slamming the rust encrusted door shut with my foot. Lazy, cursive sharpie is scribbled on the side, marking clearly as, 'Adeline's Books'. I let out a puny grunt from the shear weight of the ample contents suddenly being held up by my impotent arms.

I walk into the house, through the foyer, up the haughty staircase and into the room I've claimed as my own. I drop the box (with relief) on the stained, sheet-less mattress that came exclusive with the room. I'm slightly on edge about sleeping on the questionable bed but I can wait a week until my new, unblemished one arrives.

I open the flaps of the box and pull out the first book at the top of the pile. A metallic silver sheens on the cover and the title reads, "13 Reasons Why", the book I plan on reading later after I've organized a few things and settled in a bit. From what I can collectively gather from the synopsis on the back of the hardback, it's about a girl who commits suicide - not my usual go-to genre but the book intrigued me for an atypical reason nonetheless.

I slackly survey the generously sized room, which happens to be much larger than my previous. I imagine where I'm going to situate all my belongings and exactly what shade of paint I'd like to decorate the drab beige walls. I'm thinking a dark blue or possibly a mauvey purple shade.

I set the book down on the periwinkle lined window seat - one of the little things that lured me to the room. I know it will be simply delightful to sit with a book in one hand, coffee cup in the other whilst the rain pitter-patters on the glass. It may be a quixotic idea but I mentally swoon at the thought.

My grandparents bought this place on what they like to refer to as an "elderly whim". They got a pretty good deal on the property especially since the house is absolutely huge with characteristic, detailed Victorian design. It was built in the late eighteen hundreds apparently but that was probably just one of the real-estate agents ploys to get the house sold quickly.

The reason it was so cheap was due to a few rumours involving the house or something - plus it's a bit of a fixer-upper but we have plenty of time on our hands. My grandmother is retired and my Grandfather optionally works whenever he pleases at his hardware store in the center of town. On top of that I'm also off school for the rest of the week due to the move so that gives me a decent amount time to at least fix my bedroom and help around the rest of the house a bit.

My Grandmother Essie is going through a phase as I understand it, she wants to accomplish something important and purposeful before it gets "too late" and before her, "bones turn weaker than her bladder." So, to fulfill her wish my grandparents pulled together all their life savings and bought this house. They actually had enough money to buy a better-kept place but my grandmother insisted on buying this place specifically. She was adamant on the idea of refurbishing the place I guess.

I open a box labeled, 'Important' and my eyes instantly find the familiar black and white photo, framed perfectly by the intricate silver frame. I smile, at the snap. It was taken on a cold day in early December, back when I was around five or six. My mother is smiling hugging my dad by the waist as he lifts me high up into the air. My eyes are big and terrified where as my mouth is formed into a big smile. It's a comical scene.

I find myself releasing a brief laugh to myself before proceeding to set the frame on the ancient-looking, mahogany, not to mention ugly dresser positioned on the small space between my en-suite door and closet door. I make a mental note to myself to paint the dresser a brighter colour or perhaps I should just get rid of it completley.

"Adeline?" I hear my Grandmother holler from the hallway.

"In here!" I respond, tugging a strand of stray hair behind my ear and walking over to the pile of scattered boxes of all sizes.