Evil's Enemy

Our beautiful neighbourhood-NOT

Our new house is on a dead-end street backed up against anenormous, fog-drenched field. Each of the houses we passed beforewe turned into our driveway was about two sizes too smallfor the size of its yard; I guess these are the kind of neighborswho want nothing to do with one another. There wasn't a singlekid playing in his front yard, not a single dad getting readyto barbeque tonight's dinner, and the street was littered withpine needles from the towering Douglas firs that block out anysemblance of daylight. An ugly, rusted, chain-link fence wrapsaround our new yard.Judging from the little I've seen so far, I'm pretty sure thewhole flippin' town of Ridgemont, Washington, is creepy. Imean, what could be creepier than a place at the foot of a mountain,where the sky is gray even in the dog days of summer? Andif it seems like I'm overusing the word creepy, it's not because Idon't have access to a thesaurus like everyone else with a smartphone;it's because there is simply no other word that will do.I shake myself like Oscar does after his bath. It's not like meto be so negative, and I'm determined to snap out of it. I take adeep breath and open the car door. The house is probably adorableon the inside. Mom wouldn't have rented a place that didn'thave some redeeming qualities. I reach into the backseat andgrab the crate that holds our cat, Lex Luthor. Then I take outmy phone and hold it up, taking a picture of me, Lex, and thehouse in the background, and I text it to Ashley. We promisedeach other we wouldn't grow apart, even with me living up herein Washington and her back in Texas. I mean, we've been bestfriends since second grade. If our friendship could survive themiddle school cliquey-ness it faced a few years ago, I'm pretty sure it can survive a few thousand miles.