It. Was. AWESOME.

Prologue

The monster house, as the locals liked to call it, was the last relic of a time when Jericho County had dreamed of being a center of booming agriculture for the state of California. Old Jonah Rayne built the place from the ground up with nothing but his bare hands and a sturdy hammer, or so he would say to anyone with an ear to listen. It was his one crowning achievement, he would boast; “The most perfect thing I could ever create, aside from the children, of course.” A home built with love and for love, and the start of what should have been a glorious legacy to carry his name through generations. 

After the Rayne family massacre, with none but a few distant relatives to claim the inheritance, the agricultural land was divided and sold at auction. The  living quarters intended to house the estate workers eventually sprouted into the quiet little town of Jericho, and the Rayne property was reduced to the last five acres sitting at the end of Richmond Avenue and the old family home that had once been so dear.

Years became decades, then centuries, in which that house succumbed to its steady decay, a shadow of its former beauty with a sagging foundation, more holes in the roof than swiss cheese, and a small jungle growing out of the front yard. After an incident involving a curious child and an unstable staircase, the house was finally condemned as a safety hazard. Of course, that did nothing to stop the kids around town from breaking in, daring each other to face the ghosts of a butchered family whose name had been long forgotten. It was always the same song and dance: a new layer of graffiti and trash, and then new boards to seal all the windows and doors, rinse and repeat. So went the cycle of the monster house.

It was a night at the end of a long, dry summer that Jesse arrived, the first Rayne in over two hundred years to step foot on the property. The wrought iron gates guarding the path screeched against years of built-up rust, and it gave him the eerie sensation of being screamed at. Go away, the house told him. Let the dead things here rest in peace.

Still, he pressed on, his steps crunching on the gravel pathway that was the only walkable area not swamped by weeds. He ripped at the vines and brambles blocking his way up the porch, and two steps up the structure found his foot crashing right through to the ground.

The boards covering the front door gave Jesse the most trouble, layers upon layers of planks haphazardly nailed across the frame and decorated with weather-beaten signs warning away intruders. He tore down what could be removed by hand, then came at it with a running start to beat the door down with his shoulder.

Dust flew everywhere, catching the moonbeams streaming in from the hole in the roof over the foyer. A draft ran through the darkened halls and empty rooms, rattling old piles of trash and empty drink cans, and from somewhere deep within, the house groaned its objection to the disturbance.

Jesse echoed the sentiment with a low groan of his own, swatting away the dust and cobwebs hanging in the air. He gave up his efforts with a resigned sigh as he took in the grimness of his surroundings.

“Home sweet home.”

Chapter 1: Last Friday Night

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Evaine walked down the road toward home. It was a sign that fall was on the way, and with it came the first muggy, overcast day since summer ended. Patches of thick clouds traveled overhead, scattering the sunlight in uneven rays like curtains opening and closing over and over again. The heat warmed her enough to work up an uncomfortable sweat as she walked, but the breeze that affected the air so turbulently was just cold enough to bite at her cheeks and chill her toes. 

Fitting, she thought, as the gloomy sky mirrored her foul mood. A perfect little cherry on top of an already miserable day that was barely halfway through with her. Most days she could deal with the usual dull grind of high school life, the loneliness of having nobody to sit with at lunch, or the frustration of trying to make nice with people who made no effort to hide their disinterest. 

But today, oh boy. Today she had been asked to read her paper aloud in English, and the whole class kept on talking like she wasn’t even standing there, red-faced and stuttering in front of everybody. The teacher just had her sit back down before she was even finished so they could move onto the next presentation. Today Tanner Humphreys “borrowed” her favorite pen in math and straight up ignored her when she asked for it back at the end of class.

Today she had missed her bus home because her history teacher made her stay late to discuss why she was already failing barely two months into the semester. For almost twenty minutes he droned on about personal accountability and how colleges would certainly not be impressed by such a track record as hers, and wouldn’t she be so embarrassed if she wasn’t able to graduate with her senior class?

And so she had missed the bus, leaving her to walk home in this miserable weather while she stewed in her foul mood, and it was made all the worse by knowing that she had no one to blame but herself. Her fault for giving up on her grades, for trusting Tanner to give the pen back, for not speaking up during her presentation.

So lost in her own moping, Evaine was taken by surprise when she looked up and realized that she had walked all the way to the end of Richmond Avenue. Any other day she would have crossed the street to avoid being so close to the monster house; she didn't like the way its drooping porch looked like a downturned mouth set in a grimace and the boarded windows like eyes permanently sewn shut. That place had always given her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies ever since she was a child, and standing at the gates as a near adult was no different.

Evaine quickly tore her eyes away, as if staring too long would make the house aware of her presence, and turned to cross the street with a renewed pace. She knew there was a faster way home, just past the end of Richmond where the road turned into the dirt walking path through the Jericho woods. That way would lead right right up to her own backyard in half the time, but it would also take her so close to the monster house that she could see into those holes that the patchwork couldn’t quite cover, and then she would have to face the creeping feeling that if she could see inside, then maybe something inside could see her, too.

No, she would always choose the safe, reliable path of the sidewalk and the extra five minutes that it added to her route.

When she finally reached home, trudging across the lawn that was still yellow after such a dry season, she was met at the driveway by her mother’s car pulling in. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her mom to come home early on Fridays, letting her attendant, Parker, close up shop so she and Evaine could catch a movie or get dinner together. What was out of the ordinary was Evaine making it home from school a good half hour later than the bus drop off time.

“Running late?” asked her mom as she stepped out of the car, bringing with her the smell of moist fertilizer that seemed to waft straight from her overalls. Evaine doubted that her mom had a single item of clothing left in her closet that wasn’t stained by dirt and leafy smears of green, but the “bringing your work home with you” jokes had gotten old a long time ago. 

Besides, it wouldn’t matter if she was wearing a burlap sack or a glittering ball gown; Mary Dawson was the most beautiful woman in the world, and it was so unfair to Evaine who felt like a toad in comparison. Her mom had the most lovely honey blonde hair that she usually kept pulled up in a working bun, but feathery little wisps always found their way back to her face. Evaine’s own hair was so red it could warn away predators, and an unruly mess of curls to boot. Her mom’s eyes were a soft blue, bracketed by little laugh lines that did nothing to detract from her natural glow, while Evaine’s were brown over much darker skin that still bore the freckles from summer. Her mother had the kind of warm smile that could turn anyone into a friend, and it lit up her face as she greeted her daughter.

“Yeah…I need you to sign something for me,” Evaine confessed, choosing to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. Her eyes remained shamefully glued to the ground as she reached into her pants pocket where she had folded up the piece of paper from her history teacher.

Her mom accepted the paper with a bracing sigh, walking on toward the house as she read, her frown deepening with every word. Evaine unlocked and opened the front door for her, and they both stood in the foyer for a long moment of tense silence while her mom finished the scathing review of her academic progress.

“Well, it’s not exactly a glowing letter of praise,” her mom said, making a generous effort to not sound too disappointed. She set down her work bag and went to pull a pen from the entryway table. 

“I don’t know what to say…” Evaine mumbled, feeling even worse for the mild reaction, if that was even possible.

“Look, I’m not about to stand here and yell at you about how you’re better than this and there’s no excuse for laziness,” her mom said as she handed back the signed paper. “I had a hard time in high school, too. I was unfocused and too naïve to think about my future in any realistic way, and every time my parents yelled at me or tried to punish me for it, I just hated school more and more. So, I’m not going to do that to you. E, I know you’ve been having a hard time, and senior year is enough pressure as it is. All I want is for you to do your best to get through it, and just try.”

“I know, it just feels like this year is the hardest it’s ever been,” Evaine admitted, hating the sound of self-pity in her own voice. She folded her arms across her chest, willing the frustrated tears to stop stinging at the back of her eyes. “I mean, everyone else is talking about college and career paths right now, and I’m just sitting in class every day doing all this work that just feels so pointless and exhausting when I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself when it’s all over.”

“Hey, getting stuck in a bad attitude isn’t going to solve anything,” her mom said with a voice that was anything but berating. She pulled Evaine into her arms for one of those soul-mending hugs that never failed to chase the clouds away. “Listen, just get through this year whatever way you can. You know I’d prefer it if you got a diploma, but even I had to settle for a GED. Once school is over, you can come work with me at the shop and take general classes at the community college until you pick a career path. Believe it or not, senior year is not ‘do or die’ for your future. I think once you start to live your life outside of high school, you’ll find your way.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Evaine said, puffing out a breath against her mom’s shoulder, wishing she could be that hopeful for herself. For now, all she had was the gnawing guilt that made her feel worse for letting things get this bad. Needing a change of subject before her bad mood could drown her completely, she disentangled herself from her mom’s hug and forced a smile. “Were we going to do something tonight? Is that why you’re home early?”

“Actually, the ladies from the community garden are getting together for dinner,” her mom explained with an apologetic wince like she knew Evaine might’ve gotten her hopes up. “Do you want to order a pizza? Should I bring something back?”

“Nah, I’ll pick something up,” Evaine replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, refusing to let it show on her face that she indeed had gotten her hopes up. “If you’re going out, I think I’ll go to the library or walk around the plaza for a bit.”

“That’s the spirit! Get all dolled up, see what kind of trouble you can get into,” her mom encouraged with a playful wink, the kind that said she was only half joking. Her mom-humor was the contagious kind, and despite herself, Evaine began to feel a little better.

Her mom’s version of getting ready for a night out involved showering, blowing out and curling her hair, painting on a light layer of makeup, and donning the sleekest black dress in her closet that she held onto just for such occasions. In the same amount of time, Evaine paced back and forth from her closet to her laundry hamper, regretting the fact that she hadn’t bothered to pick up anything nice during her yearly school shopping trip. After spending way too long struggling to make a decision, she finally settled on a pair of jeans and one of her newer graphic tees. Just to feel more dressed up, she laced up her red sneakers instead of the black ones. Sneakers, because of course she would be walking for the rest of the night. In the muggy heat and icy wind. Again.

She went into her mother’s room to give herself a final look in their full-length mirror, feeling reasonably satisfied with her work. The shirt was smooth and unwrinkled, her jeans were worn in and soft, and her sneakers looked clean and well cared for. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail in anticipation of a breezy night, and gelled down as much of the frizz as she could manage. It wasn’t the same level of style as she’d seen the other girls at school wearing lately, but if tonight was the night to try her luck and maybe talk to somebody new, at least she wouldn’t be too self conscious.

It was a nice thought, but it lasted for only a moment before her mother came to stand beside her to use the mirror as well, fluffing out her sculpted curls and fixing her dress. Side by side, all Evaine could see was what set them apart from each other, and her heart sank with the familiar weight of disappointment. 

When she was a child, she used to ask her mom if she would grow up to look like her, like all these things that made her different were nothing more than growing pains to be overcome. Even after the truth had been explained to her, she would still daydream about waking up one day to find that she had magically blossomed into that version of herself she always wished she could become. If only she could be a little more like her mother, she would think in those critical moments, if only she could be prettier, more charming…then her life could really begin. People would look at her and pay attention when she talked, and they would call her up and invite her places on Friday nights just because they enjoyed her company, and she would be such a good friend to have.

It took a long time for her to understand what it meant to be adopted, and many more years after that to accept that the face she saw in the mirror was the only one she would ever have, that there would never be a fairytale moment to turn this pauper into a princess.

It was still muggy in the late afternoon as Evaine and her mother both set out for the evening, but at least the breeze had carried away the darkest of the clouds, freeing the sun to cast its long shadows across the front lawn. Her mom gave her a ride into town, thankfully saving her from having to walk the first half of her trip, and she was dropped off at the steps of Jericho Public Library. The two wished each other a fun night, and after a slew of reminders from her mom to be careful and to try to be home before dark, the two parted ways.

From her first steps through the library doors, Evaine could feel all the tension and stress of her day finally beginning to release its hold on her. Here, where the air smelled like paper and ink and those scented candles the librarian kept on her desk, where the only noise was the soft flutter of pages being turned and polite whispers being shared back and forth, here was where Evaine found joy more than any place in the world. Once she had tucked herself away in her comfortable little reading corner, things like the self conscious worries over her looks or of being friendless and lonely simply didn’t matter anymore. 

Her favorite spot in the building was the set of twin chairs by the window overlooking Jericho Plaza. They were a faded sea green with brass nail embellishments, mismatched with a little chestnut end table and vintage reading lamp between the two. From there, she would be able to watch all the lights come on at sundown, making the little town look like a fairy wonderland.

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Evaine looked up from her book to find Alec, the assistant librarian, staring down at her. He was an older man of about forty, although she could have sworn he’d clung to thirty five at least three years in a row. He had dark and weathered skin which bore the marks of a lifetime of hard work, and a layer of gray peppered stubble all across his chin. His face was set in a permanent sort of scowl that belied the kind man underneath, and when he laughed he looked like a wrinkly bulldog. As per usual, his work boots and jeans were just a little wrinkled with bits of dust and paper scraps clinging to the fabric, and his flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows where the edges of some faded tattoos could be seen. He was the everything man around here, just as likely to be found working on maintenance as hunting down late fees. 

“Hey, Alec,” Evaine greeted, bookmarking her spot in her latest selection so she could give him her full attention. “What’s up?”

“Your waitlisted request finally came in,” he announced, setting a new book in front of her. “Actually, it came in last week but Miss Evelyn hasn’t been shelving the returns since her cat’s been sick. I’m just getting around to it.”

“Thanks, I was wondering about that,” Evaine said, picking up the book with a grin. She looked around at the other books she had collected for the afternoon and realized she would have to sacrifice one if she was going to be able to carry them all home. Oh well; Friday night problems.

“What happened to movie night with your mom?” Alec asked, pulling up the reading chair just across from hers. From the chest pocket of his flannel shirt he pulled a little baggie of peanuts and began to pop them with loud, open-mouthed crunching. 

“It turned into ladies’ night with the gardening club,” Evaine explained with a shrug she hoped looked more careless than she felt. It would just be too pathetic to admit out loud that she was lonely because mommy had more friends than her. “I figured I’d just read for a bit and then go pick up some dinner. You have any big plans for the weekend?”

“I’m actually making the drive to Redwood City after closing. My cousin Maggie’s there for work, so we’re getting dinner.”

“That should be fun,” Evaine said politely, secretly disappointed that even Alec, the only person in town with fewer friends than her, had plans and someone to hang out with. “Hey, can your stop by Rosita’s Bakery on the way for me? Bring me one of those colossal cookies.”

“Chocolate chip or peanut butter?”

“Ew, peanut butter’s gross. Chocolate chip.”

“You better wash your mouth out with soap; don’t talk about my peanut butter like that,” he warned, wagging a finger at her until she started to laugh. “And stop that laughing. Don’t you know we’re in a library? Gonna get us arrested.”

Of course, that only made her laugh harder, and he shook his head to hide his own satisfied smirk. Evaine had always thought that Alec wasn’t like most people, never brushing her off or making her feel ignored. He treated her like she was a person, like someone who was worthy of his time and friendship.

From a few aisles down came the sound of a loud CRASH, the resulting tumble of books, and someone doing their best to whisper a slew of curse words. Alec grumbled to himself and began to stuff the peanuts back into his shirt pocket.

“Guess that’s my cue. See you later, kiddo.”

“Have fun at dinner,” she called after him as he half-ran toward the crash.

Evaine spent the next few hours reading and enjoying her own company right up until the library closed promptly at six. It wasn’t quite nighttime when she stepped back outside, but the clouds made it dark enough for all of the lights of the plaza to come on a little early. 

It seemed as if the whole town was out that evening, strolling among the shops and enjoying the relief after another hot day. Evaine took her time walking the plaza pathway as she debated her dinner options, moseying through shops with clothes she knew she would never buy and hobbies she wished she had the talent for. While it was nice to see everyone out and enjoying themselves, it never failed to leave her with a melancholy pang in her chest. Just for once it would be nice to have somebody to walk around with, talk about the latest school gossip, or get their opinion on whether they should eat tacos or pizza.

She could feel that bad mood from earlier threatening to rain down on her as her thoughts took a sour turn, so she made the quick decision to just grab dinner from the nearest restaurant and head home. It was one of her favorite burger joints, busier than normal with so many people out enjoying the first night of the weekend, so by the time she got her white paper sack of food it was only a few minutes away from full dark.

She hurried to start the trek home, sorely wishing she had left more books behind at the library as they were now weighing her down. The journey back usually took a good thirty minutes along the sidewalk path, and she made it almost ten before she started eating her fries right out of the bag. She humored herself as she walked with ideas for what she could do with her free time tomorrow; she’d been meaning to organize the junk drawer in her desk, or maybe she could watch a movie and do her nails, or more likely just binge read everything she had just checked out…

Nearly home, Evaine turned to cross the street, headed away from Richmond, when there came a sound from the roadside shrubbery that made her halt in her tracks. It was a rustling of the dry bush leaves followed by a mewling little whimper, a small, distressed sound, almost like that of a puppy to her ears. 

A stressed pang of sympathy in her heart made her turn toward the sound, seeking it out, as she could picture all too well the image of a sad little face, hiding itself from the big scary human towering over them. She imagined how it might have gotten lost or been abandoned, just crying out for its mother or for some food, or for a comforting touch…

“Hello?” she called in her most non-threatening voice, leaning down to make herself smaller and less intimidating. She beckoningly clicked her tongue a few times and held out her hand. 

The rustling scampered from one bush to another and around a corner, like it was frightened and trying to get away from her, but then there was a small snap like a breaking twig and a much sharper cry.

“What’s wrong?” she continued to coo, following the sound. If the poor thing was hurt, there was no way she could just leave it behind. She had to see if it was alright, see if there was a collar or tags, maybe even walk back into town to drop it off at the vet’s office. She reached into her bag of food and pulled out a fry as bait, holding it out toward the bush.

When she was met with nothing but silence, she could only frown at the spot where she’d heard it last.

“Hello?” she tried again, straining her ears to listen. Still there was nothing, no breathing like she would expect from a wounded animal, no rustling or movement to be seen. Even the breeze had come to a momentary standstill, making the quiet all the more pronounced.

It was only then that Evaine realized the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She looked around and saw with a wash of dread how far off the path she had gone, carelessly following those cries for help. Down the road and around the corner she had gone, blind to anything but that sad little cry, and somehow wound up walking right through the opened gates of the monster house.

Startled by the sight of it looming ahead of her, she took a few quick steps back, looking all around to confirm that she was alone. She looked up at the house itself, saw that the front door which had been closed that afternoon was now an open void of darkness, and her heart leaped into her throat.

“No no no no!” she shook her head, taking a few more steps backward. The fear shot through her chest like a frozen knife, and a taste like acid bile rose in her throat. Whatever instincts she had to mind her safety were suddenly awake and screaming at her to turn and run.

A hand grasped her by the elbow and she yelped with surprise, whirling around. It was a man, standing where there had before been no one, his face cast in the darkness of dusk so that she couldn’t see who it was. She attempted to tear her arm away, but the grip that held her was too strong. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, using his overwhelming size to crowd her vision, blocking her path for escape. 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Evaine squeaked helplessly, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to see through the dark for any means of escape.

“Come on, you need to leave.” He started to drag her toward the gate, but he didn’t get more than two steps before he froze in his tracks, the hand on her arm tightening painfully. His head slowly turned to look down on her, and when he spoke there something gravelly and hateful in his voice. “Dammit…one of them. Say goodnight, freak.”

Before she could even inhale from the shock, his other hand smacked into her neck and locked on. With little effort on his part, he squeezed until Evaine’s panicked breathing was cut off, and pressure began to build in her head making her ears ring and her lips feel puffy. The muscles of her throat struggled to work against the imposing force clamping her airway shut while her hands flailed desperately to fend him off. She pounded with her fists, scratched at whatever skin she could reach, but nothing could deter the man beyond a small huff of irritation when she drew blood. 

Still she fought, thrashing against his grip, until her vision swam with a blackness that crept up from the corners of her eyes and the last of her strength was finally used up. Her hands fell away from where she had been trying to pry him off and her knees buckled from beneath her, leaving her whole body weight hanging there by her neck. 

Prologue

The monster house, as the locals liked to call it, was the last relic of a time when Jericho County had dreamed of being a center of booming agriculture for the state of California. Old Jonah Rayne built the place from the ground up with nothing but his bare hands and a sturdy hammer, or so he would say to anyone with an ear to listen. It was his one crowning achievement, he would boast; “The most perfect thing I could ever create, aside from the children, of course.” A home built with love and for love, and the start of what should have been a glorious legacy to carry his name through generations. 

After the Rayne family massacre, with none but a few distant relatives to claim the inheritance, the agricultural land was divided and sold at auction. The  living quarters intended to house the estate workers eventually sprouted into the quiet little town of Jericho, and the Rayne property was reduced to the last five acres sitting at the end of Richmond Avenue and the old family home that had once been so dear.

Years became decades, then centuries, in which that house succumbed to its steady decay, a shadow of its former beauty with a sagging foundation, more holes in the roof than swiss cheese, and a small jungle growing out of the front yard. After an incident involving a curious child and an unstable staircase, the house was finally condemned as a safety hazard. Of course, that did nothing to stop the kids around town from breaking in, daring each other to face the ghosts of a butchered family whose name had been long forgotten. It was always the same song and dance: a new layer of graffiti and trash, and then new boards to seal all the windows and doors, rinse and repeat. So went the cycle of the monster house.

It was a night at the end of a long, dry summer that Jesse arrived, the first Rayne in over two hundred years to step foot on the property. The wrought iron gates guarding the path screeched against years of built-up rust, and it gave him the eerie sensation of being screamed at. Go away, the house told him. Let the dead things here rest in peace.

Still, he pressed on, his steps crunching on the gravel pathway that was the only walkable area not swamped by weeds. He ripped at the vines and brambles blocking his way up the porch, and two steps up the structure found his foot crashing right through to the ground.

The boards covering the front door gave Jesse the most trouble, layers upon layers of planks haphazardly nailed across the frame and decorated with weather-beaten signs warning away intruders. He tore down what could be removed by hand, then came at it with a running start to beat the door down with his shoulder.

Dust flew everywhere, catching the moonbeams streaming in from the hole in the roof over the foyer. A draft ran through the darkened halls and empty rooms, rattling old piles of trash and empty drink cans, and from somewhere deep within, the house groaned its objection to the disturbance.

Jesse echoed the sentiment with a low groan of his own, swatting away the dust and cobwebs hanging in the air. He gave up his efforts with a resigned sigh as he took in the grimness of his surroundings.

“Home sweet home.”

Chapter 1: Last Friday Night

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Evaine walked down the road toward home. It was a sign that fall was on the way, and with it came the first muggy, overcast day since summer ended. Patches of thick clouds traveled overhead, scattering the sunlight in uneven rays like curtains opening and closing over and over again. The heat warmed her enough to work up an uncomfortable sweat as she walked, but the breeze that affected the air so turbulently was just cold enough to bite at her cheeks and chill her toes. 

Fitting, she thought, as the gloomy sky mirrored her foul mood. A perfect little cherry on top of an already miserable day that was barely halfway through with her. Most days she could deal with the usual dull grind of high school life, the loneliness of having nobody to sit with at lunch, or the frustration of trying to make nice with people who made no effort to hide their disinterest. 

But today, oh boy. Today she had been asked to read her paper aloud in English, and the whole class kept on talking like she wasn’t even standing there, red-faced and stuttering in front of everybody. The teacher just had her sit back down before she was even finished so they could move onto the next presentation. Today Tanner Humphreys “borrowed” her favorite pen in math and straight up ignored her when she asked for it back at the end of class.

Today she had missed her bus home because her history teacher made her stay late to discuss why she was already failing barely two months into the semester. For almost twenty minutes he droned on about personal accountability and how colleges would certainly not be impressed by such a track record as hers, and wouldn’t she be so embarrassed if she wasn’t able to graduate with her senior class?

And so she had missed the bus, leaving her to walk home in this miserable weather while she stewed in her foul mood, and it was made all the worse by knowing that she had no one to blame but herself. Her fault for giving up on her grades, for trusting Tanner to give the pen back, for not speaking up during her presentation.

So lost in her own moping, Evaine was taken by surprise when she looked up and realized that she had walked all the way to the end of Richmond Avenue. Any other day she would have crossed the street to avoid being so close to the monster house; she didn't like the way its drooping porch looked like a downturned mouth set in a grimace and the boarded windows like eyes permanently sewn shut. That place had always given her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies ever since she was a child, and standing at the gates as a near adult was no different.

Evaine quickly tore her eyes away, as if staring too long would make the house aware of her presence, and turned to cross the street with a renewed pace. She knew there was a faster way home, just past the end of Richmond where the road turned into the dirt walking path through the Jericho woods. That way would lead right right up to her own backyard in half the time, but it would also take her so close to the monster house that she could see into those holes that the patchwork couldn’t quite cover, and then she would have to face the creeping feeling that if she could see inside, then maybe something inside could see her, too.

No, she would always choose the safe, reliable path of the sidewalk and the extra five minutes that it added to her route.

When she finally reached home, trudging across the lawn that was still yellow after such a dry season, she was met at the driveway by her mother’s car pulling in. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her mom to come home early on Fridays, letting her attendant, Parker, close up shop so she and Evaine could catch a movie or get dinner together. What was out of the ordinary was Evaine making it home from school a good half hour later than the bus drop off time.

“Running late?” asked her mom as she stepped out of the car, bringing with her the smell of moist fertilizer that seemed to waft straight from her overalls. Evaine doubted that her mom had a single item of clothing left in her closet that wasn’t stained by dirt and leafy smears of green, but the “bringing your work home with you” jokes had gotten old a long time ago. 

Besides, it wouldn’t matter if she was wearing a burlap sack or a glittering ball gown; Mary Dawson was the most beautiful woman in the world, and it was so unfair to Evaine who felt like a toad in comparison. Her mom had the most lovely honey blonde hair that she usually kept pulled up in a working bun, but feathery little wisps always found their way back to her face. Evaine’s own hair was so red it could warn away predators, and an unruly mess of curls to boot. Her mom’s eyes were a soft blue, bracketed by little laugh lines that did nothing to detract from her natural glow, while Evaine’s were brown over much darker skin that still bore the freckles from summer. Her mother had the kind of warm smile that could turn anyone into a friend, and it lit up her face as she greeted her daughter.

“Yeah…I need you to sign something for me,” Evaine confessed, choosing to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. Her eyes remained shamefully glued to the ground as she reached into her pants pocket where she had folded up the piece of paper from her history teacher.

Her mom accepted the paper with a bracing sigh, walking on toward the house as she read, her frown deepening with every word. Evaine unlocked and opened the front door for her, and they both stood in the foyer for a long moment of tense silence while her mom finished the scathing review of her academic progress.

“Well, it’s not exactly a glowing letter of praise,” her mom said, making a generous effort to not sound too disappointed. She set down her work bag and went to pull a pen from the entryway table. 

“I don’t know what to say…” Evaine mumbled, feeling even worse for the mild reaction, if that was even possible.

“Look, I’m not about to stand here and yell at you about how you’re better than this and there’s no excuse for laziness,” her mom said as she handed back the signed paper. “I had a hard time in high school, too. I was unfocused and too naïve to think about my future in any realistic way, and every time my parents yelled at me or tried to punish me for it, I just hated school more and more. So, I’m not going to do that to you. E, I know you’ve been having a hard time, and senior year is enough pressure as it is. All I want is for you to do your best to get through it, and just try.”

“I know, it just feels like this year is the hardest it’s ever been,” Evaine admitted, hating the sound of self-pity in her own voice. She folded her arms across her chest, willing the frustrated tears to stop stinging at the back of her eyes. “I mean, everyone else is talking about college and career paths right now, and I’m just sitting in class every day doing all this work that just feels so pointless and exhausting when I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself when it’s all over.”

“Hey, getting stuck in a bad attitude isn’t going to solve anything,” her mom said with a voice that was anything but berating. She pulled Evaine into her arms for one of those soul-mending hugs that never failed to chase the clouds away. “Listen, just get through this year whatever way you can. You know I’d prefer it if you got a diploma, but even I had to settle for a GED. Once school is over, you can come work with me at the shop and take general classes at the community college until you pick a career path. Believe it or not, senior year is not ‘do or die’ for your future. I think once you start to live your life outside of high school, you’ll find your way.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Evaine said, puffing out a breath against her mom’s shoulder, wishing she could be that hopeful for herself. For now, all she had was the gnawing guilt that made her feel worse for letting things get this bad. Needing a change of subject before her bad mood could drown her completely, she disentangled herself from her mom’s hug and forced a smile. “Were we going to do something tonight? Is that why you’re home early?”

“Actually, the ladies from the community garden are getting together for dinner,” her mom explained with an apologetic wince like she knew Evaine might’ve gotten her hopes up. “Do you want to order a pizza? Should I bring something back?”

“Nah, I’ll pick something up,” Evaine replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, refusing to let it show on her face that she indeed had gotten her hopes up. “If you’re going out, I think I’ll go to the library or walk around the plaza for a bit.”

“That’s the spirit! Get all dolled up, see what kind of trouble you can get into,” her mom encouraged with a playful wink, the kind that said she was only half joking. Her mom-humor was the contagious kind, and despite herself, Evaine began to feel a little better.

Her mom’s version of getting ready for a night out involved showering, blowing out and curling her hair, painting on a light layer of makeup, and donning the sleekest black dress in her closet that she held onto just for such occasions. In the same amount of time, Evaine paced back and forth from her closet to her laundry hamper, regretting the fact that she hadn’t bothered to pick up anything nice during her yearly school shopping trip. After spending way too long struggling to make a decision, she finally settled on a pair of jeans and one of her newer graphic tees. Just to feel more dressed up, she laced up her red sneakers instead of the black ones. Sneakers, because of course she would be walking for the rest of the night. In the muggy heat and icy wind. Again.

She went into her mother’s room to give herself a final look in their full-length mirror, feeling reasonably satisfied with her work. The shirt was smooth and unwrinkled, her jeans were worn in and soft, and her sneakers looked clean and well cared for. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail in anticipation of a breezy night, and gelled down as much of the frizz as she could manage. It wasn’t the same level of style as she’d seen the other girls at school wearing lately, but if tonight was the night to try her luck and maybe talk to somebody new, at least she wouldn’t be too self conscious.

It was a nice thought, but it lasted for only a moment before her mother came to stand beside her to use the mirror as well, fluffing out her sculpted curls and fixing her dress. Side by side, all Evaine could see was what set them apart from each other, and her heart sank with the familiar weight of disappointment. 

When she was a child, she used to ask her mom if she would grow up to look like her, like all these things that made her different were nothing more than growing pains to be overcome. Even after the truth had been explained to her, she would still daydream about waking up one day to find that she had magically blossomed into that version of herself she always wished she could become. If only she could be a little more like her mother, she would think in those critical moments, if only she could be prettier, more charming…then her life could really begin. People would look at her and pay attention when she talked, and they would call her up and invite her places on Friday nights just because they enjoyed her company, and she would be such a good friend to have.

It took a long time for her to understand what it meant to be adopted, and many more years after that to accept that the face she saw in the mirror was the only one she would ever have, that there would never be a fairytale moment to turn this pauper into a princess.

It was still muggy in the late afternoon as Evaine and her mother both set out for the evening, but at least the breeze had carried away the darkest of the clouds, freeing the sun to cast its long shadows across the front lawn. Her mom gave her a ride into town, thankfully saving her from having to walk the first half of her trip, and she was dropped off at the steps of Jericho Public Library. The two wished each other a fun night, and after a slew of reminders from her mom to be careful and to try to be home before dark, the two parted ways.

From her first steps through the library doors, Evaine could feel all the tension and stress of her day finally beginning to release its hold on her. Here, where the air smelled like paper and ink and those scented candles the librarian kept on her desk, where the only noise was the soft flutter of pages being turned and polite whispers being shared back and forth, here was where Evaine found joy more than any place in the world. Once she had tucked herself away in her comfortable little reading corner, things like the self conscious worries over her looks or of being friendless and lonely simply didn’t matter anymore. 

Her favorite spot in the building was the set of twin chairs by the window overlooking Jericho Plaza. They were a faded sea green with brass nail embellishments, mismatched with a little chestnut end table and vintage reading lamp between the two. From there, she would be able to watch all the lights come on at sundown, making the little town look like a fairy wonderland.

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Evaine looked up from her book to find Alec, the assistant librarian, staring down at her. He was an older man of about forty, although she could have sworn he’d clung to thirty five at least three years in a row. He had dark and weathered skin which bore the marks of a lifetime of hard work, and a layer of gray peppered stubble all across his chin. His face was set in a permanent sort of scowl that belied the kind man underneath, and when he laughed he looked like a wrinkly bulldog. As per usual, his work boots and jeans were just a little wrinkled with bits of dust and paper scraps clinging to the fabric, and his flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows where the edges of some faded tattoos could be seen. He was the everything man around here, just as likely to be found working on maintenance as hunting down late fees. 

“Hey, Alec,” Evaine greeted, bookmarking her spot in her latest selection so she could give him her full attention. “What’s up?”

“Your waitlisted request finally came in,” he announced, setting a new book in front of her. “Actually, it came in last week but Miss Evelyn hasn’t been shelving the returns since her cat’s been sick. I’m just getting around to it.”

“Thanks, I was wondering about that,” Evaine said, picking up the book with a grin. She looked around at the other books she had collected for the afternoon and realized she would have to sacrifice one if she was going to be able to carry them all home. Oh well; Friday night problems.

“What happened to movie night with your mom?” Alec asked, pulling up the reading chair just across from hers. From the chest pocket of his flannel shirt he pulled a little baggie of peanuts and began to pop them with loud, open-mouthed crunching. 

“It turned into ladies’ night with the gardening club,” Evaine explained with a shrug she hoped looked more careless than she felt. It would just be too pathetic to admit out loud that she was lonely because mommy had more friends than her. “I figured I’d just read for a bit and then go pick up some dinner. You have any big plans for the weekend?”

“I’m actually making the drive to Redwood City after closing. My cousin Maggie’s there for work, so we’re getting dinner.”

“That should be fun,” Evaine said politely, secretly disappointed that even Alec, the only person in town with fewer friends than her, had plans and someone to hang out with. “Hey, can your stop by Rosita’s Bakery on the way for me? Bring me one of those colossal cookies.”

“Chocolate chip or peanut butter?”

“Ew, peanut butter’s gross. Chocolate chip.”

“You better wash your mouth out with soap; don’t talk about my peanut butter like that,” he warned, wagging a finger at her until she started to laugh. “And stop that laughing. Don’t you know we’re in a library? Gonna get us arrested.”

Of course, that only made her laugh harder, and he shook his head to hide his own satisfied smirk. Evaine had always thought that Alec wasn’t like most people, never brushing her off or making her feel ignored. He treated her like she was a person, like someone who was worthy of his time and friendship.

From a few aisles down came the sound of a loud CRASH, the resulting tumble of books, and someone doing their best to whisper a slew of curse words. Alec grumbled to himself and began to stuff the peanuts back into his shirt pocket.

“Guess that’s my cue. See you later, kiddo.”

“Have fun at dinner,” she called after him as he half-ran toward the crash.

Evaine spent the next few hours reading and enjoying her own company right up until the library closed promptly at six. It wasn’t quite nighttime when she stepped back outside, but the clouds made it dark enough for all of the lights of the plaza to come on a little early. 

It seemed as if the whole town was out that evening, strolling among the shops and enjoying the relief after another hot day. Evaine took her time walking the plaza pathway as she debated her dinner options, moseying through shops with clothes she knew she would never buy and hobbies she wished she had the talent for. While it was nice to see everyone out and enjoying themselves, it never failed to leave her with a melancholy pang in her chest. Just for once it would be nice to have somebody to walk around with, talk about the latest school gossip, or get their opinion on whether they should eat tacos or pizza.

She could feel that bad mood from earlier threatening to rain down on her as her thoughts took a sour turn, so she made the quick decision to just grab dinner from the nearest restaurant and head home. It was one of her favorite burger joints, busier than normal with so many people out enjoying the first night of the weekend, so by the time she got her white paper sack of food it was only a few minutes away from full dark.

She hurried to start the trek home, sorely wishing she had left more books behind at the library as they were now weighing her down. The journey back usually took a good thirty minutes along the sidewalk path, and she made it almost ten before she started eating her fries right out of the bag. She humored herself as she walked with ideas for what she could do with her free time tomorrow; she’d been meaning to organize the junk drawer in her desk, or maybe she could watch a movie and do her nails, or more likely just binge read everything she had just checked out…

Nearly home, Evaine turned to cross the street, headed away from Richmond, when there came a sound from the roadside shrubbery that made her halt in her tracks. It was a rustling of the dry bush leaves followed by a mewling little whimper, a small, distressed sound, almost like that of a puppy to her ears. 

A stressed pang of sympathy in her heart made her turn toward the sound, seeking it out, as she could picture all too well the image of a sad little face, hiding itself from the big scary human towering over them. She imagined how it might have gotten lost or been abandoned, just crying out for its mother or for some food, or for a comforting touch…

“Hello?” she called in her most non-threatening voice, leaning down to make herself smaller and less intimidating. She beckoningly clicked her tongue a few times and held out her hand. 

The rustling scampered from one bush to another and around a corner, like it was frightened and trying to get away from her, but then there was a small snap like a breaking twig and a much sharper cry.

“What’s wrong?” she continued to coo, following the sound. If the poor thing was hurt, there was no way she could just leave it behind. She had to see if it was alright, see if there was a collar or tags, maybe even walk back into town to drop it off at the vet’s office. She reached into her bag of food and pulled out a fry as bait, holding it out toward the bush.

When she was met with nothing but silence, she could only frown at the spot where she’d heard it last.

“Hello?” she tried again, straining her ears to listen. Still there was nothing, no breathing like she would expect from a wounded animal, no rustling or movement to be seen. Even the breeze had come to a momentary standstill, making the quiet all the more pronounced.

It was only then that Evaine realized the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She looked around and saw with a wash of dread how far off the path she had gone, carelessly following those cries for help. Down the road and around the corner she had gone, blind to anything but that sad little cry, and somehow wound up walking right through the opened gates of the monster house.

Startled by the sight of it looming ahead of her, she took a few quick steps back, looking all around to confirm that she was alone. She looked up at the house itself, saw that the front door which had been closed that afternoon was now an open void of darkness, and her heart leaped into her throat.

“No no no no!” she shook her head, taking a few more steps backward. The fear shot through her chest like a frozen knife, and a taste like acid bile rose in her throat. Whatever instincts she had to mind her safety were suddenly awake and screaming at her to turn and run.

A hand grasped her by the elbow and she yelped with surprise, whirling around. It was a man, standing where there had before been no one, his face cast in the darkness of dusk so that she couldn’t see who it was. She attempted to tear her arm away, but the grip that held her was too strong. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, using his overwhelming size to crowd her vision, blocking her path for escape. 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Evaine squeaked helplessly, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to see through the dark for any means of escape.

“Come on, you need to leave.” He started to drag her toward the gate, but he didn’t get more than two steps before he froze in his tracks, the hand on her arm tightening painfully. His head slowly turned to look down on her, and when he spoke there something gravelly and hateful in his voice. “Dammit…one of them. Say goodnight, freak.”

Before she could even inhale from the shock, his other hand smacked into her neck and locked on. With little effort on his part, he squeezed until Evaine’s panicked breathing was cut off, and pressure began to build in her head making her ears ring and her lips feel puffy. The muscles of her throat struggled to work against the imposing force clamping her airway shut while her hands flailed desperately to fend him off. She pounded with her fists, scratched at whatever skin she could reach, but nothing could deter the man beyond a small huff of irritation when she drew blood. 

Still she fought, thrashing against his grip, until her vision swam with a blackness that crept up from the corners of her eyes and the last of her strength was finally used up. Her hands fell away from where she had been trying to pry him off and her knees buckled from beneath her, leaving her whole body weight hanging there by her neck.