WELCOME TO ROSEWOOD MANOR

9

A few seconds later, we stepped into the backyard to get Rio. He was as glad to see us as ever, leaping on us with his muddy paws, barking excitedly, running in frantic circles through the puddle of leaves. It cheered me up just to see him.

It was hot and humid even though the sky was gray. There was no wind at all. This climate here really irks me along with every other thing I hate about this place. Oh what do I even like about this place? Nothing. I wonder if it's my fault of not being content with what I have or... Wait. I do like something about this place. The trees. I am an avid fan of nature since little and every little details seem to fascinate me. Like how right now these... heavy, old trees stood as still as sculptures.

We headed down the gravel driveway toward the street, our sneakers kickin' at the dead, autumn leaves, Rio running in zigzags at our sides, first in front of us, then behind.

“At least Dad hasn’t asked us to rake all these old leaves,” Adam said.
“Oh don't you worry, sweetheart...He will,” I warned. “I don’t think he’s unpacked the rake yet.”

Adam made a face. We stood at the curb, looking up at our house, the two second-floor bay windows staring back at us like eyes. It felt really unsettling...it felt as if the house had a life of it's own...an identity of it's own. Or maybe it's my interest in literature and imaginary acting up.

The house next door, I noticed for the first time, not that I wanted to notice it now.. it's about the same size as ours, except it was shingle instead of brick. The curtains in the living room were drawn shut. Some of the upstairs windows were shuttered. Tall trees cast the neighbors’ house in darkness, too.

“Which way?” Adam asked, tossing a stick for Rio to chase.

I pointed up the street. “The school is up that way,” I said. “Let’s check it out.”

The road sloped uphill. Adam picked up a small tree branch from the side of the road and used it as a walking stick. Rio kept trying to chew on it while Adam walked.
We didn’t see anyone on the street or in any of the front yards we passed. No cars went by. I was beginning to think the whole town was deserted, until the boy stepped out
from behind the low ledge. He popped out so suddenly, both Adam and I stopped in our tracks.

“Hi,” he said shyly, giving us a little wave.

“Hi,” Adam and I answered at the same time.

Then, before we could pull him back, Rio ran up to the boy, sniffed his sneakers, and began snarling and barking. The boy stepped back and raised his hands as if he were protecting himself. He looked really frightened.

“Rio—stop!” I cried.

Adam grabbed the dog and picked him up, but he kept growling.

“He doesn’t bite,” I told the boy. “He usually doesn’t bark, either.
I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” the boy said, staring at Rio who was squirming to get out of
Adam's arms. “He probably smells something on me.”
“Rio stop!” I shouted. The dog wouldn’t stop squirming. “You don’t want the leash—do you?”

The boy had short, wavy blond hair and aqua blue eyes. He had a funny upturned nose that seemed out of place on his quite  serious-looking face. He was wearing a maroon long-sleeved sweatshirt despite the humidity of the day, and black straight-legged jeans. He had a blue baseball cap stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m Spencer,” I said. “And this is my brother Adam.”
Adam hesitantly put Rio back on the ground. The dog yipped once, stared up at the boy, whimpered softly, then sat down on the street and began to scratch himself.