Tales of Gloomsdale #1: The Hidden Attic

Chapter One

Matt Wilson stared glumly out the car window with his head in his hand. The dreary rain obscured any view of the passing landscape, not that there had been much of a view to admire in the first place. They had been driving through the middle of nowhere for who knew how long. Matt didn't know when they were going to reach their new town, which he wasn't particularly looking forward to.

How far away are we from everything? Matt wondered glumly. From my old school, my old friends, from everything and everyone I used to know?

"How much longer?" his stepsister Willow asked excitedly, her dark curls swaying as she glanced up. She wasn't sad in the least about leaving everything behind. Maybe because she and her father had recently moved into their house and effortlessly integrated herself into their family. Matt wished he could feel the same way. He had recently gained a new stepsister and stepfather, and was now moving to a new town. It was too much change in such a short span of time.

"Not much longer, dear," Mrs. Wilson replied uncertainly. Matt could see his mother's weary face from behind the wheel.

"Are you sure you're going in the right direction?" Mr. Davis, Willow's father, asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Mrs. Wilson snapped back irritably. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I was just making sure," Mr. Davis argued. "I heard Gloomsdale is a long way away. I don't think you're going in the right direction."

What a strange name for a town, Matt thought. Gloomsdale. At least it matched the weather outside.

"How can you be so sure?" Mrs. Wilson retorted. "Everything's covered in rain!"

"Which is why you can't be sure either," Mr. Davis pointed out. "We wouldn't have been driving through the middle of nowhere if you hadn't made the wrong turn two hours ago."

Matt sighed as they began arguing. He still couldn't believe that his mother had moved on from his father so soon. Well, it wasn't that soon. His father had left two years ago, but it felt like a short time for Matt. Mr. Davis and Willow were so different. And not just because they looked different, though that didn't help.

"I don't like when they argue," Willow muttered, leaning over Matt's shoulder. "But my dad says it's normal. He says he never argued with my mom. It's kind of nice seeing them act like normal parents, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," Matt snapped. "Why would it be nice?"

Willow kept speaking without answering. "I kind of wish I had taken your last name. Then I would be Willow Wilson. But it would be weird to have a new last name, when I've had the same one my entire life. Hey, why did your mom keep her maiden name?"

"I'm glad she did," Matt quipped. She hadn't taken his real father's name after marrying him either, to Matt's relief. It made him feel less alone. He suspected it was also partly because their last name, Davis, reminded his mother too much of his real father's first name, the only difference being one letter. And his real father was a real jerk.

"But why?" Willow asked. "Didn't she take your real dad's name? I mean, not that my dad isn't your real dad. He can be, if you want."

"No, he can't," Matt snapped.

He tuned her out as she began rambling. She was fond of that. He had never had a brother or sister before, and his new stepsister was like having three of them. She was so lively and talkative. She never left Matt alone, even when he wanted to be. Which was most of the time. She was always grabbing his things, always wanting to share with him.

She didn't even look like his sister. Willow and her father were black, while Matt and his mother were white. It wasn't a big deal, but it was another reminder that they weren't actually related. It was always awkward when she called herself his sister or referred to Matt as her brother, and everyone stared at them strangely.