The Greyest of Blue Skies

The Greyest of Blue Skies - 1

A/N: Borrowed the title from Finger Eleven.

--o-o-o--

Chapter 1

The winter here is colder than any winter I've lived through. It chills the bone, bites the skin, and makes me wish we'd never left home in sunny Florida. But we did, and now this frosted white town in the northernmost corner of Maine is my new home for the foreseeable future.

It's below freezing for almost half the year. I don't know how I'll survive.

"Don't look so glum, Claire," Mom sighs.

I turn away from the window for a second to look at her. She's finished shelving her unpacked books in the bookcase and is now facing me with hands on her hips. The slump of her shoulders gives away how tiring the relocation has been on her.

The last thing she needs is her daughter being a grinch. "Sorry." I give her a small apologetic smile. "It's been a long day." We drove non-stop from last night to this morning, only breaking for sleep at a motel somewhere in Virginia.

"I know, sweetie." Her face softens and she comes over to where I'm sitting at the bay windows, draping an arm across my shoulders. She glances outside at the dead quiet street, backdropped by a dense swath of snow-tipped trees on mountain slopes. It's starting to get dark. "The good news is we've finished settling in. Tomorrow, I'll get us some groceries and you can explore the neighborhood or do whatever else you want to do. Sound OK?"

I nod.

"Alright. How about you let me wrap up in the next ten minutes and then we'll order a pizza?"

"Cool."

She lays a light kiss on my head as she gets up; I make a face but otherwise let it go. Outside, snow has started falling again.

--o-o-o--

Sunday morning greets me as a hazy beam of white through the gap in the curtains. Rubbing my eyes, I stare at an unfamiliar ceiling and it takes me a second to recall just where I am. This bedroom is more spacious than I'm used to, with a high roof and walls of pale blue, but against the sparse furniture it only looks empty and cold.

I sit up and take in my surroundings, not that there's much of it. From the corner of my eye, I catch my reflection in the dresser mirror to the left -- my hair's a mess, and I look paler than ever in the wintry light. It doesn't seem as though I'll have any hope of getting a tan in this place. Farewell sunshine.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, I head downstairs where I find my Mom shrugging into a parka, with half a pop tart in her mouth. Her eyes light up when she sees me.

"Hi Mom."

Mom makes a noise that sounds like "Hi Claire" as she bites off part of the pop tart and holds the rest of it in one hand. Her other hand grabs for the car keys.

"Going out already?" I'm not sure that shops are open at this hour, since it's barely nine o'clock -- making it a very early Sunday morning for me as I normally sleep in. But sleep eludes me today.

"Yes, and I need to swing by the hospital first 'cause an emergency came in last night and they asked me to come if I was able."

I blink at her in confusion. "I thought you start work tomorrow?"

"I do, but they're really short on staff and I figured, as long as I'm here, I could use the extra pay."

I can't say no to that, as it's pretty much the sole reason we traveled all the way up here. Finances have always been a concern with Mom raising me by herself, and while we aren't poor, we're careful about how we spend. When she came across this vacancy for licensed nurses at Orion Valley General, both of us were dubious as to how such a little town could have such a busy hospital, but now we can see it in action.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you, sweetie," she says, "but it's only a morning shift. I'll be back after lunch. There are some sandwiches from yesterday in the fridge if you need anything."

I tell her not to worry. "I'll probably go out. Check out the scene." The last sentence is heavy on sarcasm.

She grins. "Alright, hon. Take care."

"You too. Bye Mom."

The door shuts behind her and in a few minutes, I hear the car rumble to life and roll out of the garage.

I muck around the house for about an hour, getting a feel for it and where everything is, and check my phone for messages -- not many. The sudden sound of a knock at the door cuts the silence like a gunshot, and I jump. Who on earth...?

I peek out the peephole at this unknown visitor and see a guy around my age, wrapped up in a scarf and beanie that practically cover his face, and carrying a basket of fruit. I step back, astounded. Neighbors are actually friendly in this part of the country. I open the door.

"Hi there!" he says, pearly whites gleaming in his broad smile. "I'm Julian, from next door."

"Um, hi. I'm Claire."

"We saw you move in yesterday, and well, this isn't much of a housewarming gift but it's the least we can do." He presents the basket.

"Wow, thank you so much," I take the handle, and it's surprisingly heavy. Under the checkered cloth, I spot apples, oranges, grapefruit. "This is really nice of you."

"You're more than welcome," he laughs. He shifts his weight on his feet, and shoves gloved hands in his pockets. "Uh, may I come in?"

I stare at him for a moment, the question ringing a distant bell in my mind. Friendly neighbors or not, I am reluctant to let a stranger into the house while I'm home alone. It's one of the earliest rules Mom taught me while growing up, and it sticks even though I'm now sixteen and not a little kid. Orion Valley might not be as dangerous as Jacksonville, with a mere fraction of the population in comparison, but it can't hurt to be cautious.

Those are the conscious thoughts going through my head even as my gut instinct is a lot simpler and more direct: do not invite him in. He doesn't look like a psycho, but I suppose they never do. He's about five-ten, fairly built from what I can tell under the jacket, with dark hair and eyes. He looks like he probably plays for the school football team.

"Sorry to keep you out in the cold," I tell him, "but the house isn't... uh, ready for guests yet. I'm just about to go into town, though, so if you've got time, do you want to join me?"

For the briefest second, his expression flashes something like distaste, or maybe anger, but it's gone before I can really register it. Did I even see it at all, or am I imagining things?

He smiles back, his face as open and cheerful as it ever was. "Sure, I can show you around."

"OK, great. I'll be two minutes." I close the door. I decide I must have imagined that little change in his mood, because it made no sense. Setting down the basket in the kitchen, I grab my jacket and boots. The hooded goose down jacket is the warmest item of clothing I own; never wore it in Florida, but it's about to get a lot of wear from now on. I'm also going to need to buy more jackets if this temperature goes on to be the norm.

Given how the local resident outside my house is dressed, I pull on a scarf as well and get my gloves. Phone, keys, wallet. They get zipped into the jacket pocket and then I'm ready to go.