Chapter 10

Samantha

“Well, here we are,” Grandpa says as he pulls into the gravel driveway of a small, yellow, one-story house with one garage and a missing shutter—house number 12 on Pine Hollow Lane in the town of Star Harbor. The neighborhood itself is nice, I guess. We drove down Main Street before turning onto Grandpa’s street, and it had some cute shops and restaurants. A lot of the homes in the area are pretty. The one right across the street looks brand new and super modern. Grandpa’s looks like one that time forgot. If it got swallowed up by a giant sinkhole, it’d be doing the neighborhood a favor.

Or at least doing me a favor.

I glance over at Melissa, who fell asleep a half-hour ago and still has her head resting against her Eeyore pillow. I poke her in the arm. “Wake up. We’re here.”

She slowly opens her eyes and looks out the window. “Oh.”

I can tell she’s disappointed but trying not to show it. Not what you were expecting, little sis, huh? Bet you’d rather be back in Windsor Hills right about now.

“Let’s go inside,” Grandpa says. “I’ll show you around.” Melissa slowly gets out of the car, Eeyore pillow in hand. For some reason, I reach back into the trunk and grab my Stitch pillow. We follow Grandpa through the white front door that hasn’t been painted since George Washington was president. The same could be said for the white picket fence on the left side of the house.

As I pass through the front door for the first time, I’m startled by the smell. It seems familiar, but I can’t think of anywhere else I would’ve smelled it. Is it possible that my nose remembers this specific smell from one visit here seven years ago?

I glance at Melissa, who looks like she’s about to gag. I understand. Whenever someone says, “It smells like old person,” this is what they mean. Our house used to smell fresh and clean because: A) we actually cleaned it, and B) my dad had strategically placed Wallflowers from Bath and Body Works—with scents like laundry day, radiant sky, and saltwater breeze—all around the home. Mom sometimes complained they were too strong. I bet she’d take that back in a heartbeat if she were standing where I am right now.

“Well, this is it,” Grandpa says, extending his arm like Vanna White revealing a new puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. Except the only prize to be won is a staph infection.

As we stand in the narrow front hallway, there’s a small room immediately to the right. Grandpa points, “That’s my room.”

Next to Grandpa’s room is a small bathroom with ancient-looking yellow wallpaper peeling off the walls. The toilet has years of built-up stains on it. There’s also a small stall shower that was probably added more recently.

Beyond that is a small living room and kitchen, complete with furnishings from the Betsy Ross estate.

At the back of the house, Grandpa shows us the laundry room, a small closet, a full bathroom, and a bedroom. He gestures, “This is your room.”

“Whose?” I ask.

“Yours,” he states, pointing to Melissa and me.

My eyes open wide. “We have to share a room?”

“Unless you want to share one with me,” Grandpa offers.

“No!” I snap. “I wanna go home!”

“I’m sorry, Samantha—”

“Are you? Are you really?”

“Sam,” Melissa interjects. “Come on.”

“No!” I shout again as I enter my room and slam the door. “Just leave me alone! Everyone, just leave me alone!”