Across Your Window - Carl Gallagher

Moving in

Moving sucks. No one tells you that until you're knee-deep in cardboard boxes and dust bunnies that lived under your bed for who knows how long. And of course, Dad was no help, yelling from downstairs about how Mason and I needed to "stop messing around" when I was the only one doing anything productive. Typical.

"This room is fine," I muttered, dropping a box labeled IVY'S CRAP in the corner. The house smelled old, like mothballs and stale coffee, but it was ours now, I guess. Our fresh start or whatever Dad kept saying. The kind of thing parents say to sound optimistic when everything's falling apart.

From the window, sunlight poured in, too bright for my liking, but it gave me the perfect excuse to pull the curtains back. That's when I saw it—the house next door. And not just any house. It looked like it had been dropped into a tornado and left for dead. The roof sagged in one corner, the paint was peeling, and the front yard had more trash than grass.

But what really caught my attention was the room across from mine. I could see straight into it. Well, almost. The blinds were half-closed, and someone was moving around inside. I couldn't tell who they were, but I caught flashes of movement: a messy head of hair, baggy clothes, and—was that a baseball bat leaning against the wall?

I jumped when Mason barged in without knocking. "Dad says we're ordering pizza for dinner," he said, flopping onto my unmade bed like he lived there.

"Cool," I said, rolling my eyes. "You know, there's a thing called knocking."

"You didn't close your door." He grinned, that stupid older-brother grin that made me want to throw something at his face.

"Whatever. Did you see the house next door?"

Mason sat up and glanced out the window. "Yeah. Looks like a dump."

"I think I can see into someone's room," I said, stepping aside so he could look.

"Oh, creepy. You're already spying on the neighbors?"

"I'm not spying. I just noticed."

"Sure." He smirked, but then his eyes narrowed. "That's kinda weird, though. They should close their blinds."

"Right?" I said, but I didn't feel as smug as I wanted to. Something about the whole thing felt...off. Like I'd just opened a door I wasn't supposed to.

"Anyway," Mason said, stretching like he'd just run a marathon, "you wanna help me set up my PS4?"

"Pass. I've got unpacking to do."

"Suit yourself." He left, leaving the door wide open just to annoy me.

I sighed and turned back to the window. The person in the room next door was gone now, but their presence lingered in the back of my mind. Maybe I'd meet them tomorrow, or maybe not. Either way, I had a bad feeling they weren't the type to bake cookies for new neighbors.

---

By the time we finished dinner—greasy pizza eaten straight from the box because Dad couldn't find the plates—it was already dark. I was exhausted, but not sleepy. Moving days always left me feeling wired, like my brain couldn't settle down.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, when I heard it. Music. Loud, thumping bass that rattled the walls.

I shot up and went to the window. Sure enough, it was coming from next door. Lights flashed through the windows—like they were throwing a party or something.

"Unbelievable," I muttered. I was tempted to shut the window and block it out, but instead, I found myself watching.

A group of people spilled out onto the front lawn, laughing and yelling. Most of them looked like teenagers, maybe a little older than me. One guy stood out, though—a kid with messy brown hair and a cocky swagger. He was yelling something at the others, but I couldn't hear what.

"Who are these people?" I whispered to myself.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture of the scene. Not to post or anything—just...to remember. For some reason, I felt like I'd need it later.

"Still spying?"

I jumped and spun around. Mason was leaning against the doorframe, smirking like he'd caught me doing something illegal.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I hissed, shoving my phone under my pillow.

"I heard the music," he said, shrugging. "Thought I'd check it out. You know, scope out the neighbors."

"Well, congratulations. They're loud and obnoxious. Mystery solved."

Mason laughed. "You're such a buzzkill. Maybe they're cool."

"Yeah, sure. Real 'cool.'" I made air quotes, but he just grinned and walked away.

I turned back to the window, but the party was already winding down. Most of the people had gone inside, and the music was quieter now. The kid with the messy hair was still out there, though, leaning against the porch railing like he owned the place.

Something told me this wasn't the last time I'd see him.

And for some reason, that thought scared me.

---

The next morning, Dad was already up and out the door by the time I rolled out of bed. He had some meeting or interview or whatever—another step in his "fresh start" plan. Mason was in the kitchen, eating cereal straight from the box like the Neanderthal he was.

"I'm going for a walk," I said, grabbing my hoodie from the back of a chair.

"Cool. Don't get kidnapped."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Outside, the air was crisp and cool, the kind of morning that made you feel like anything was possible. I wandered down the street, hands stuffed in my pockets, trying to get a feel for the neighborhood.

That's when I saw him.

The kid from last night.

He was sitting on the steps of the house next door, eating a Pop-Tart like it was a five-course meal. When he saw me, he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Hey," he said, his voice cocky and confident.

"Uh, hey," I said, suddenly wishing I'd stayed inside.

"You're the new neighbor, huh?"

"Yeah. Ivy."

"Carl," he said, taking another bite of his Pop-Tart. "Welcome to the neighborhood. Hope you don't mind a little noise."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "As long as it's not every night."

He laughed, a low, lazy sound that made me feel like I was the punchline to some inside joke. "We'll see."

And just like that, I knew my life had just gotten a lot more complicated.