yours.

[2] Jasper

"We're here."

The words snap me out of my reverie, tearing my gaze from its blank stare out of the car window next to me.

In the passenger seat, my mother relaxes, clasping her hands in front of her. She peers at me in the rearview mirror with a small grin. "Jasper, are you ready?"

Do I really have a choice? I smile back. "Ready as I'll ever be."

My father pulls our car into the driveway of our new house, and I gaze up at its ash-coloured siding, black door, and gray shingles. Depressing. My eyes flit over to the pale yellow house beside it, seemingly feeling its bright red door call out to me. It didn't really occur to me that we'll have neighbours -- next door, so close. Maybe I can make a friend. 

The thought hits me like a stone wall, and I try to shake it off. I can't get my hopes up, not yet--

"Jasper," my father snaps, twisting in his seat to face me. "I just asked you a question."

My breath leaves me in an instant, and I feel my eyes go wide. "I..." I mutter, "I wasn't listening. I'm sorry." I notice my mother tense, and my father's lips twist into a scowl.

"I said," he repeats slowly, his jaw setting, "I want you to help me carry the boxes. Your mother will start unpacking."

He watches me expectantly, and I nod. When his thick, brown brows rise, I say, "Okay. Whatever you need."

After a moment, he nods, satisfied. My mom swings open her car door and steps out onto the driveway, and I do the same before my father can scold me for stalling. I eye the moving van parked on the opposite side of the driveway and its team, which is already starting to unload the vehicle's boxed contents. 

I follow my father to the boxes, listening to him shout instructions to the team members before lifting one of the smaller-looking boxes near my feet. I glance down at it. There is a small, pink label stuck to it, reading, "Jasper." I laugh to myself. Of course I'd get my own things first.

I step through the gaping threshold of my new home and wait to be hit with the signature New Home Smell. When it doesn't come, I sigh, starting up the carpeted stairs to my left. But the longer I spend in the space, the more I realize it smells like something... distinctly unpleasant. Rentals, I think, shaking my head. Why couldn't we just buy a new house?

At the top of the stairs, I turn right, heading down a short hallway. Another right, and I'm in my room. I set the box down and take in the small, square space. Four blue walls, two sockets, one closet door. One window. I make my way over to it and gaze out of it, staring down at the street below. I can see my mother's small frame and dark hair standing idly by the mountain of boxes forming behind the moving van, but I can't see my father. I tense, realizing a thing just before it happens.

"Really, Jasper?" my father growls from the open door behind me. "You brought up one box? If you really want to stand around and be useless, you can go wait in the car."

My shoulders betray me and sink an inch as I turn to face him. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Go get more boxes, Jasper!" he barks, and I jump, slipping past him down the hall. "I shouldn't have to tell you to do things like this. You should just... do them."

I race back down the stairs, my father's words resounding in my skull. I wait for two members of the moving team to lift a dark couch through the doorway before stepping back outside. My eyes find the waiting stack of boxes on the driveway, but now my mother is nowhere to be found.

I start toward it, figuring the summer can only get better from here. Right?