Four years isn't a long time, not to anyone who lives an ordinary life with no loss. Not to anyone who lives in Mystic Falls. It's just another set number of silly traditions, happy holiday's and town events, replaying over and over and over again...
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THE PORCH LIGHT FLICKERS OFF WITH A RESOUNDING BUZZ and the words strewn across the pages of Hope's physics notes, in colorful strokes of ballpoint pen, are shadowed by the night sky. It's only then that Hope picks up her phone and checks the time— 10:47 PM. She'd taken a seat outside on the white wicker sofa, cushioned by a red floral pattern, an hour after her and Lizzie got back from Mystic Grill. Next to her on the glass side table, her hallow to-go cup that was once filled with leftover Peanut Butter Blast, nearly takes off with the wind. She lunges for it before it can fly away, grabbing it so tight her fingers pluck five holes through the styrofoam.
Nothing bad happens in Mystic Falls— nothing jail-worthy, anyway— so watching a teenage girl allow a cup to dance onto the street would bring immense joy to a bored patrol officer on night duty. Hope sets her bag of pens atop the cup, keeping it in place once and for all, crushing it flat.
For a split moment, the auburn allows the fall night to ease up on her like a gentle massage to her shoulders. She feels her tension wash away as she breathes in the harvest air— crisp and musky-sweet. Fall used to be her favorite season, but she doesn't pay much attention to the color changes in landscape anymore, all the weather eventually blended into one long day of different Fahrenheit's.
When she opens her eyes, she imagines how this night would look in a painting. A full moon coasting over the clouds, like a head just coming out of the water, luminescent on the yellow-red leaves. The thin blades skate along the sidewalk, hovering over the cracks, ricocheting with each surge of wind.
It's cool against Hope's skin— like a thousand icicle kisses.
The feeling of serenity is gone too soon when sound of gravel crunching on the road causes Hope to open her eyes and see the black Range Rover pulling up beside the curb of the Forbes' home, stopping just before a bronze sewer. There's no headlights, and no one gets out of the car. Hope almost stands up to run inside and get Alaric, but the passenger door opens and Josie jumps out in her suede black boots, landing perfectly on the edge of the curb.
Hope hears her voice, but she can't make out the words. She reaches for the book bag at her feet and pulls out her copy of Howards End for British Lit and pretends to be halfway through with it.
The door slams shut. Hope shifts her gaze, but her head doesn't move. In the driver's seat, she sees a black lob, and that's enough for her to know it was Penelope.
Hope contemplates saying anything, not even knowing if Josie had seen her lurking in the shadows like a stalker, but she breaks the night quiet, anyway, her voice at one with the crickets.
"I thought you were grounded."
Josie's startled. Hope can tell by the way her shoulders bounce up the slightest bit and her heels clack extra hard against the walkway up to the steps of the porch. But she doesn't scream, or press her hand to her heart. She stays calm, like nothing bothered her in the first place.
