Difference Between

Chapter 1 - A Historical Moment

Knowing history - even your own history - isn't going to 100% make you not repeat it. Or prepare you to face whatever comes your way. Like right now.

"Why'd you drag me here again?" I ask Don as I slam the car door shut.

My brother scoffs. "I didn't drag you anywhere. Mom asked us to come here, remember?"

I place my hands on my hips. "Okay. Why did Mom indirectly drag me here again?"

Don rolls his eyes. "She said she'd explain once we got here."

"But why here?"

I look up at the Halloways' house, and a knot forms in my stomach. It's been five years since I've been within a mile of this place. And it's about a hundred years too early for me to be this close to it now. Mom knows this. So why?

"You think I know?" Don snaps.

I arch an eyebrow. "Yes. I thought you were the amazing Don Artwell. Half scholar--" I throw one hand out "--half athlete." I throw the other hand out before dropping both to my sides. "Which means you're half know-it-all, half inflated ego."

He yanks a loose strand of my auburn hair. "Shut up."

I smirk as he rings the doorbell. Tobias, Don's best friend, opens it a moment later. His eyes widen when they land on me, but he covers it up with a smile. I guess he hasn't been expecting me to come here anytime soon either considering...

"What're you two doing here?" he asks. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Our mom asked us to come here," Don explains.

Tobias arches an eyebrow. "This is the first time I'm hearing of it."

"Your dad didn't tell you?" I ask.

Tobias shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure he's not even home right now."

I glance behind me. Mom's car isn't parked anywhere in sight, but I ask anyway: "Our mom isn't here yet, is she?"

"No. But you guys might as well come in while we wait."

Tobias steps back, letting us walk in. I swallow before forcing myself to step past the threshold. If my heart rate was already high, it's astronomical at this point. I try to swallow my pulsing heartbeat and glance around. The house looks exactly like I remember: wood floors, white walls, and leather and wooden furniture. Guess Kean never bothered to redecorate after he divorced Tara. Or maybe he's the one that decorated the house in the first place. Either way, being here brings back too many memories I've tried to suppress.

"Hey, Ashlyn," Tobias calls. "Just so you know, Marcus is upstairs."

I feel my breath catch in my throat. But what else was I expecting? That I'd be lucky enough to not run into him? In his own house?

Don hits me lightly. "Play nice."

I sputter, "Socrates,* you should be telling him that."

Mom's a history teacher, and she got me and Don really into the subject at a young age. I somehow picked up the habit of calling people historical figures based on the most insignificant shared trait on my own by fifth grade. That was about the time Marcus and I stopped being friends. Some people - mostly just Mom and Dad - find it endearing. Marcus is not one of those people...

"Socrates?" Don laughs, ignoring the rest of my sentence. "That's not exactly an insult."

I cross my arms over my chest as I lean towards him, sticking my chin out. "Considering you don't understand why I'm calling you Socrates proves that you're not as much of a know-it-all as you pretend to be. Socrates."