CHAPTER ONE
On the first day in our new home, my family and I took in the natural beauty of our surroundings. A nice blue sky with a soft breeze gently scraping the few clouds that wandered around the hot sun. The air had felt great on my skin as I stepped out onto our new property. It was mid-July when we first arrived in Maine, and I absolutely admired my new home. The walls were a light beige in my bedroom, with a white frame out-lining the two windows. My bed was covered with a fluffy tan quilt and two matching pillows set on each side, along with my furry orange companion, Salty. Who was briefly bathing herself, occasionally gazing up at me.
Peering into my closet, I saw all of my clothes set and hanging perfectly, from long sleeved ones, to the short sleeved ones, and finally a small pile of jeans and other pairs of pants. I smiled and turned around to Salty. She came over and rubbed her head on my knees. I scratched her ears, causing her to collapse in pleasure. She purred loudly.
"Good Kitty." I said and removed my foot from underneath her.
I sat down on the hardwood floor, and began opening the last of my boxes. This box consisted of my paint, a few brushes, and--what's this? A picture of me and one of my closest friends, Jennifer Williams. She was wearing a blue ribbon in her hair, and my mother had done mine with braids. That was the day we'd met in kindergarten. My mother would always tell me how we instantly clicked. I refuse to ever forget that day. Jen had moved to Maine many years before me, but we still kept in touch. Over the phone, via-Skype, and sometimes, but very rarely, we'd see each other in person. Though we would sooner or later, with school coming in the fall.
I heard soft foot-steps grow louder in the hallway, then saw my big brother's face peering in through my bedroom door.
"Hi, Mark." I said as I turned to watch him take a seat on my bed. He stroked my kitty with his large hand, seeming somewhat pleased with the softness of her fur.
"Hey, kiddo." He said to me. "Mom said dinner's ready. It's spaghetti and meatballs." He grinned.
"Oh, okay. I'll be down in just a minute." I said, pulling my attention back to my box.
Mark began to get up, but then sat back down to say something else. "Mel," He began, "Do you like the new house so far?" He looked at me with question.
"Of course! I mean, what's not to love about it?" I exclaimed. He looked over at my night stand and sighed.
"Right. I'll see you in a few." He yawned loudly before leaving the room and proceeded down the stairs.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, I noticed my father had already finished his plate of spaghetti, and Mark was right behind him. My mother made me a plate, and I got some lemonade for everyone. Grabbing the four glasses from the antique cabinet, I smiled at the scent of pinewood.
"Melanie," my father said, looking over the newspaper he was reading, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. "Did you finish unpacking?"
I replied with a nod, setting the full glasses down on the table and sinking into my seat. Mark finished his drink in a few gulps, picked up his plate, rinsed it in the sink, and sat back down. He ran his fingers through his black hair, licked his lips, and leaned far back in his chair.
Our table went great with our yellowed counter-tops and white tiled floors. The back door sent a dim ray of sunlight through the hallway next to the kitchen, and into the living room. The fan above our heads was spinning wildly, circulating the warm air throughout the room. I twirled my spaghetti around, not feeling so hungry after just consuming half a bag of Doritos the hour before. I managed to eat half of the food on my plate, and gave the rest to Mark, who barely chewed it.
