Crazy Enough...

Chapter 1

The rain washed down the passenger side window of the car as we drove down the highway. I watched as raindrops merged together and rolled down to the bottom of the window. A new song came on in my headphones as I stared at the unfamiliar landscape outside of the familiar car that my dad had driven since I was a toddler. The cars went past us, and we went past them, like a never-ending race against the rest of the cars around us. A young boy in one of the cars waved at me, taken aback by this odd act I stared at him with a blank look on my face.

"Generally, when someone waves at you, you wave back," said my dad from the driver's seat beside me. I took my earbuds out and looked at him.

"Clearly, I'm not one of those general people," I said in a monotone voice. He looked at me quickly again, before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Of course, you're not."

I think he expected another reply from me, but I just pursed my lips, put my earbuds back in and went back to staring at the streaks that the rain left on my window. I chanced a glance at my father and found a solemn face staring out at the highway, not breaking the blank stare that stood apart from all the other mixing emotions in his eyes. I knew I should've said something at that moment, but I didn't, I turned my face away from his once more.

"I want you to, to uh, to try and make some more friends at this new school," he broke the silence with these words, but when I looked at him, he still wasn't looking at me.

"There's strength in loyalty, not numbers Dad," I looked out the front windshield just as he did.

"There's strength in numbers too, that's why you're supposed to travel in groups."

"That's not what I meant, I meant that having a lot of friends means that there are more people to stab you in the back when you need it most, but if you have a small, yet moderate number than you can know if they are loyal and therefore put more trust in them without having to worry about being stabbed in the back at a constant."

"You know it's sometimes good to breathe, you shouldn't just talk until you turn blue."

"I wouldn't actually turn blue, and even if I did hold my breath long enough to become unconscious, in that state I would resume breathing and wake up shortly after, the only extensive damage would be if I fell over and hit my head in the process."

"It was a metaphor there Els, you don't have to take everything so seriously. Lighten up a little and live a bit."

"I'm trying to 'live a bit', but it's hard to when we move halfway across the country every other month."

"This is the first time that we've actually moved halfway across the country, also we don't move every other month."

"It was an exaggeration Dad. Much like your metaphor. It was also my attempt to 'Lighten up' as you put it."

"Oh.... I see, and now I also see that I have overreacted. I should have considered you and your feelings before I decided to ship us off to another town again." as he said this a look of sorrow filled his dark eyes.

"It's okay Dad, I'm fine, it's a fresh start. Again."

"There's a difference between fine and happy Els."

"Sometimes fine is the best you can do though, and I can always learn to be happy anyways. Also, we just passed our exit," I said pointing at the exit ramp three cars behind us.

"Oh crap. We'll take the next exit and double back," he looked around and signaled his lane change so that we were in the furthest right lane on the highway.
"You know, if you used a GPS, then you wouldn't miss your exits or turns as often," I said looking at the upcoming exit. "Don't forget to turn here."

"I don't need a GPS. I just know where to go, and when I don't, you tell me where to go. See, it all works out," he turned the steering wheel and we pulled around the corner of the exit and onto the bridge that crossed over the highway.

We took a left and drove along the street that ran parallel to the highway. After a few minutes we were level with the exit that we had missed, and we turned right, so we were driving away from the highway once again.

After an hour we finally turned onto a quiet side road where we saw a sign that read Welcome to Wickerby, Cladonia. I looked out the window at the large expanse of open fields, filled with short, stubby crops that were beginning to grow in the afternoon sunlight of early May. Off in the distance, small rooftops poked up in the direction in which I could only assume was of the town. A few minutes later we were driving through a quaint small downtown. Old-fashioned buildings looked taller up close, their second-story windows opened into short stubby balconies. The shop windows were all filled with modern objects and clothing, and tourists and locals alike considered them with awe and curiosity.

After going up a steep hill, we took a left turn into a subdivision. The houses were of a moderate size but looked quite nice and fancy. We drove through multiple squiggly streets until we came onto Tabernayt Boulevard. A house made of dark grey stones, with a cobblestone driveway and path that led right through a beautiful garden to the front door, sat quietly on our right. When we turned up the slightly curved driveway and parked under a large deep purple maple tree, I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping.

"This is the house?" I asked, my mouth still hanging open in awe.

"You like it right? I wanted it to be a surprise how it looked," as Dad said this he turned his face towards me and blushed a little.

"Do I like it? I love it. It's beautiful, it must've cost a fortune," I was still taking it all in. the sleek black window panes, the shiny silver door knocker that hung at eye level on the dark grey door. The colourful flowers the spurted out of the ground all throughout the impeccably weed-free garden.

"Good, would you like to open the front door?" he asked and held out a shiny silver key.

"Of course, how could I say no?" I grabbed the key and ran up the path, practically tripping over a loose stone on my way to the front door. The door handle was a sleek silver and even though it was warm outside, it felt cold to the touch. The key slid into the lock easily and turned smoothly as the door unlocked.

The door swung open soundlessly into a spacious front entryway. A dark mahogany-like wood covered the floors and went up a large curved staircase to the second floor. To the left, a large open doorway stood and n the other side of it was a large empty room with a picture window almost covering the one wall. Through the window, I could see the garden and across the street another luxurious looking house. A boy of about my age was playing basketball in the driveway, and he seemed to be good at it. I wandered into the kitchen, where I practically ran into the island that sat in the middle. Dad had been talking the entire time, but I wasn't really listening. He had said something about a living room and was wondering out loud about where to put all the furniture. The rest of the first floor consisted of a bathroom, small dining room off the kitchen, and another large empty room meant to be a den sort of area.

The second floor had not one, but two master bedrooms and Dad let me pick which one I wanted. I picked the one at the front of the house where I could see the garden and beautiful street. Each bedroom had their own bathroom, complete with a bathtub and shower. There was also a home office for Dad, another bathroom, and a guest room.

"The movers will be here in two hours, you can do your room, I'll get someone to help you with getting the boxes up, and whatnot, and I'll get a start on the rest of the house, probably just the necessities, for now, so we can eat and such tonight. You know," he trailed off into mumbles and I took that as my cue to leave. I stood in my room and imagined where everything would go. I had gone through tons of scenarios when the doorbell rang. I checked my phone it had been almost two hours. I heard Dad get the door, then I heard him talking and a woman talking back.

"Elsabeth," he called up from the front entryway.

I walked out of my room and down the stairs, on because I was wearing socks I slipped and fell down the stairs. The boy I had seen playing basketball across the street caught me in his arms.

"Hi, I'm Toby,' he said and smiled a beautiful, crooked smile.