In the quiet suburban town of San Clemente, the arrival of a mysterious new neighbor has disrupted the peaceful atmosphere.
Rumors swirl around the boy who moved in just a few weeks ago, and soon enough, the tranquil streets are overrun with flashi...
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July 5th 2000
I STORM DOWN THE STAIRS, following the insistent ring of our house phone. I burst into the kitchen and grab the receiver, pressing it to my ear. At this time of day, it's almost always my mom calling. She tends to worry about my safety, and her constant interruptions annoy me. These calls usually end with me soothing her and assuring her that I'm okay. Over the years, it's become something I'm accustomed to. She wasn't always so unsettling. Back when I was a small child and my siblings were teenagers, she was more laid-back—or at least that's what I've heard. But that was before the incident.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Oh, honey, are you alright? Is everything okay?" Her voice wavers, filling me with sadness. I smile comfortingly, even though she can't see it.
"I'm okay, Mom," I reassure her. "There are leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry, and, uh..." My mom's voice trails off, mumbling something on the other end before she finishes her sentence. "Oh, did you lock all the doors? I-"
"Yes, Mom, all the doors are locked. The windows are shut, and the curtains are closed," I interrupt, hearing her sigh of relief.
"Okay, baby, just making sure. I'll be home early today. Love you." I hear her blow a kiss through the phone, and I reciprocate with an "I love you" before hanging up. I replace the phone and let out a sigh. The sound of a passing car reaches my ears, drawing me to the window. I peek through the blinds, watching as a mailman approaches our mailbox, placing some cards inside. Waiting for him to leave, I then walk out the door.
As soon as I step outside, the sun blinds my eyes, and I squint, shielding my face with my hand to continue walking. San Clemente, the city I live in, is one of the many that borders Los Angeles. It's generally peaceful, consisting mainly of suburbs and a town square. We're fortunate to have a beach nearby, which everyone and their parents go to during the summer.
For the most part, nothing eventful ever happens in San Clemente. Sure, there's the occasional high school drama and workplace rumors that circulate, but that's true for any other place. San Clemente is far from being a crazy town.
There was a brief period when things were different when families kept their children indoors and fear filled the sky. It was a time when our family was in the spotlight. However, that time has long passed, and most people have forgotten about it.
Approaching the mailbox, I gather the envelopes and scan through the names: Joshua Miller, Joshua Miller, Laura Miller... Ayla Miller. I stare at the envelope addressed to me, sensing it might be related to the scholarship I applied for a few months ago. Holding all the envelopes, I close the mailbox just as I hear a car approaching the house next door.
A U-Haul truck pulls into the driveway, marking the arrival of new neighbors. The house has been vacant for a couple of months since our previous neighbors, a sweet elderly couple, moved to a retirement getaway in Florida. An older man steps out of the driver's seat, his demeanor slightly unsettling. From the other side of the truck, a slightly younger blonde woman emerges. They exchange some words, the man appearing annoyed. Another car rumbles from behind me, pulling up next to them in the driveway. It's a flashy car with booming heavy metal music coming from its speakers. The music stops, and the car's engine is turned off.
