Penflower

Chapter 1

"Shiloh Elizabeth Gardner!"

A smile spreads over my face as I sigh, relishing the moment. Aunt Edith must have found the frogs in the bathtub. I tiptoe down the carpeted stairs to the master bathroom. When I poke my head around the doorframe, my aunt's jaw is set and her thin lips are pressed into a white line.

Aunt Edith is actually my great aunt, although she insists that I call her "aunt". But she's not fooling anyone: her hair is whiter than snow even in the black-and-white photographs that line the hallways of her house. Our house, she always calls it. I don't stick around this house much anyway. I've spent the first week of summer vacation wandering around the town. It's a tiny town called Campbell, and the population is exactly six hundred eighty-nine. Or ninety, if you count little Harold who was born yesterday in the only hospital around for forty miles.

Aunt Edith points a long, bony finger toward the stairs. Code for "go-to-your-room-young-lady-I-am-so-disappointed-in-you". I nod and plod back up the stairs to my room.

Once back, I sit on my unmade bed and stare across the room at the mirror above my dresser. Two playful green eyes stare back at me from beneath a messy mop of short black hair. I run my hand through the stubborn mane and glance outside. The wind is beginning to whistle through the cracks in the old house and the plink plunk of raindrops is growing steadily louder. The clock reads 9:47 p.m., but I don't even consider getting ready for bed until I hear Aunt Edith's voice echoing from downstairs. "Shiloh, get ready for bed now!" She knows me so well.

Shiloh. That's me. Actually, Aunt Edith had hoped my first name would be Elizabeth, but my parents chose Shiloh instead. I guess Elizabeth was too old-fashioned for them, but I'll never know. My parents died somehow not long after I was born and every time I try to bring it up with Aunt Edith, she mutters that she has to go change the laundry or something. She's just too proper with me. Every time I want to leave the house, she reminds me that I'm "only" fifteen and should always have a guardian to accompany me. I wish she would give me more freedom. Feeling like you don't belong anywhere is not a pleasant feeling but it's one I'm so used to that I don't even notice it anymore.

I mutter back to her even though I know quite well she can't hear me (or so I hope) and pull my oversized checkered pajama pants over my yoga pants. That wind is making me chilly. I run a toothbrush over my teeth and a brush over my hopeless tangle of hair. I'm pulling the cotton sheets over my head when the door opens and Aunt Edith comes in. "Good night, hon. Sweet dreams."

I murmur, "'Night," and the door clicks shut. The wind begins to howl.