Rachel Stanton and The Darkest Night

CHAPTER 1: THE GREEN-EYED GUY

1. THE GREEN-EYED GUY

I was drifting off to sleep when I heard a honking car.I hopped off my bed, headed to the window, and looked at what—or who—was down at the front yard. Parked along the driveway was a silver Toyota Fortuner. The sight of it sent me an incredible sense of familiarity. I looked inside, and glad that I saw Dad.

Mom came out of the front door and assisted Dad as he drove the car into the garage. When Dad, bringing a suitcase in his hand, walked out, I saw Mom lunge forward to him and hug him. Dad, the suitcase out of his hands already, carried Mom and twirled her around, kissing her. I could hear Mom giggling like a teenager.

“I missed you so much, Carmen,” Dad said when he drew back, looking into her eyes. He cupped his hands in Carmen’s cheeks, then planted kisses all over her face.

“Aw, Christian,” Carmen said quietly. “I missed you, too.”

For a few moments, someone cleared his throat. Mom and Dad looked into the direction of the sound, startled. By the screened-door, my brother Charles stood, hands inside his pockets, eyes staring at Mom and Dad.

Christian, after telling Carmen to get the suitcase and taking a long breath, walked to meet Charles. “How are you, little boy?” he asked, smiling at him.

“Fine,” Charles answered, as if it were half the truth. “Thank you for asking. What about you?”

“I’m good, son,” Dad said, nodding. “Very good.” He patted a light hand on Charles’s shoulder. He heaved a sigh, and then suddenly leaned forward to Charles’s ear and whispered. I heard a low hissing sound but I did not catch any word. Charles nodded to him, then he ran inside the house as if there were something in there he needed to see.

Christian turned to Carmen who was carrying the suitcase in her hand. He put an arm across the back of her shoulder and they walked inside. Meanwhile, footsteps were banging outside my door at the stairs. I turned. Then Charles knocked.

“Rachel?” Charles called. He knew I was asleep so he kept his voice low.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice the sound of a person who just woke up.

“Are you awake?”

“Kind of,” I said.

“Well, ugh”—he paused—“Dad asked me to wake you up. You need to go downstairs.”

I reached for the door, wrapping my whole hand on the knob. When I opened it, his brown eyes were already staring at me. He was grinning, like he just received the best gift in the world.

“He’s here?” I asked softly, rubbing my eyes.

He nodded shortly and said, “Yup.”

“Really?” My voice became excited. “Where is he?”

He shrugged, shook his head animatedly, and said “I don’t know” at the same time. “And I think he’s already in the living room with Mom.” He hesitated for a second. “By the way, he brought you a tarantula. Just so you know.” My heartbeat went fast. He knew I was frightened into any kind of spiders so he could saw that. I threw him an irritated and icy look. And he laughed at my expression. “I’m just kidding, Sis,” he said. “Why don’t you check it out? You’ll be surprised with your birthday gift.”

I stared at him in excitement, my eyes widened in shock. I felt like I was about to scream. Four weeks ago, I turned seventeen. On the next day after it, Dad promised me that when he got back from San Francisco, he would give me something for my birthday.

I walked past Charles and headed downstairs. When I reached the bottom, I spotted Dad walking toward me. I lunge quickly toward him and threw my arms quickly around his neck, wrapping him into a tight hug.