Heartbreaker Next Door

I never wanted to change schools, not because I had made great friends in my previous school or because I couldn’t imagine leaving Sunders’ Senior High, no. None of that.

In fact, I absolutely hate being in school. The only thing I actually love is being in my room, ignoring my obnoxious younger brother and listening to music.

That’s all.

Yes, I know, pretty exciting list for a 17-year-old senior who should probably be thinking about prom and having her first kiss.

If I were your typical teenage girl, I would be at the mall with my girlfriends, whom I don’t have by the way – stealing lip gloss off the shelf or trying on a new shade of nail polish.

But no, here I am on a Sunday evening unpacking my bags because Dad got transferred to a new city, and since he won the legal battle for me and Harry, my brother, I had no choice but to follow him.

I tried to talk Dad out of letting me change schools.

“Why can’t I just finish my final year at Sunders and then come to Oakland to join you?” I tried to argue with him, but he just wasn’t having it.

I even cooked his favourite meal on our last night at Sunders to try to convince him, but Dad is nothing if not stubborn, and unfortunately, that is a trait Harry got from him.

Not me, though.

Me? I am as gentle as a dove and sweet as sunshine. Just ask the black nail polish and the dark eyeliner in my drawer, they’ll tell you.

Dad wasn’t having it, though; he wasn’t going to leave me unsupervised in Sunders because he knew that I would ditch school the moment I was all alone.

Which is literally all the time.

Let me tell you right now that I am not a damaged kid. Dad did a good job raising Harry and me and giving us all the love that Mom unfortunately could not give us.

Sure, ours is not a full house, but it is full of love and happiness. Sometimes, having too much happiness around me is like having too much sugar in my mouth. You need a little bitterness to wash that down; that’s why I drink my coffee black.

Anyway, as I was saying, the reason I am currently unpacking my things in our new home, which smells like bleach and the ghosts of its past owners, is because Dad ended up packing my things for me, practically tied me up in the backseat of the car and drove us to Oakland.

Dad already sent mine and Harris’ student application to John Manheim via email, so now I have to select something to wear for my first day at school.

I hated being at Sunders even though I went to Sunders preschool, elementary, middle school and high school, so I basically know everyone there. I know for sure that I will hate being the new kid in John Manheim even more.

I’ve seen what kids do to new kids. High school is tough enough already because everyone has their friends, their cliques, their boyfriends and girlfriends, and there you are, the outsider.

I had one consolation, though. Even though I basically knew everyone in Sunders – including their secrets by the way – nobody really knew me. I was the ghost in the shadow, the dark in the light, the…you know the drill. I was a nobody.

I intend to continue being a nobody even in John Manheim.

Some people are worried about leaving a trace in the world when they are dead and gone.

Not me, I am happy being a shadow.

I selected a black hoodie and a pair of black jeans for tomorrow. I held them up.

Perfect.

A cold wind blew through the open window, making me shiver.

Seriously, I already hate it here. Sunders was warm, but since we’ve gotten here, all I’ve done is drink hot water and suck on lozenges because it is too dang cold.

I walk over to the window to close it, but just before I do, a car in the next house catches my attention.

It had just pulled into the drive, and the driver was coming out.

The street is well illuminated by the lights coming from the front porches of the other houses, so I can see the driver’s face as well as the passenger coming from the other side.

The loud music blaring through my speakers made it impossible for me to hear anything, but judging by the frown on the driver’s face, an older man with a balding spot that he skillfully hid with a combover, and the way he pointed at the younger-looking passenger, whatever words were being exchanged were not happy words.

For a moment, I considered lowering my music to hear them better.

What, you think that is being nosy?

How do you think I know almost everyone in Sunder’s secrets?

But I know that would draw attention to me, so I try reading their lips instead.

That didn’t help either because at one point the older guy looked like he was saying, “Sharks will make you fat,” or something.

The younger guy looked to be about my age, tall and lean, muscled.

And yes, I am not blind, he was cute.

Very cute.

I couldn’t see the colour of his eyes because of the distance, but he had dark hair, so I am guessing dark eyes too.

He didn’t say much, and every time he did try to talk, the older guy shut him up and pointed his finger in his face, spitting some more angry words.

Just when it looked like their argument was escalating, a bright light came from the inside of the house. It looked like someone had opened the front door, and my suspicion was confirmed when both men turned toward the house.

A few words were exchanged, then the older man started to walk inside, only to shove the younger one on the shoulder and point to the car before turning to head into the house, leaving the younger dude standing there, watching him go.

For a while, it looked like he would go after the man, whom I guess is his Dad now, and maybe punch him in the face or something, but after standing there on the driveway clenching and unclenching his fists, he turned toward the car, opened the trunk and pulled out something from it.

I leaned further out to squint and see what it was that he was carrying.

It was a hockey gear with 2 hockey sticks poking out of the bag. He hefted it in his hand and started to walk toward the house when he stopped.

I knew the moment he sensed me, and I bent out of sight before he could turn toward my window to catch me.

My heart banged against my ribs.

Well, that was close. In all my years as a professional eavesdropper, I have never, ever been caught.

I stayed there beneath my window while MGMT’s Little Dark Age blasted from my speaker just in case he was waiting for me to show my face again. Just as my knees were beginning to cramp and I was contemplating standing up straight, my door swung open, causing me to jerk and nearly bash my head against the wall.

But it was only Harry coming into my room, and when he saw me hiding beneath my window, he raised a brow.

“Wow, I never realised it had gotten so bad.”

“Shut up. And what are you doing in my room anyway?”

“Dad asked me to tell you to keep the noise down.”

“What?” I ask, pretending that I couldn’t hear him.

“Dad said I should…” he saw the look on my face and rolled his eyes. “Oh, you heard me, asshole. Should I tell him that you’re too busy hiding from your imaginary friends to lower the music?” he asked sweetly.

I rolled my eyes at him as I stood up, sending a quick look out my window to see that the cute boy had thankfully gone inside the house.

“I wasn’t hiding from anyone or anything. And next time, there’s this new thing called knocking! You know that thing you do before you enter someone else’s room?”

He shook his head, feigning a contemplative look, “Hmm, no, I have never heard of that before. Can you spell it? Maybe define it? Ah!” he screamed when I threw my shoe at him.

My shoe hit him by a hair when he hopped out laughing. “Oh my gosh, you suck!” he laughed.

I ran to the door and locked it before he could come back and plague me like little brothers always do.

“You’re not going to be lucky next time,” I shouted back at him, turning the key in the lock a third time just to be sure.

Well, I had no choice but to reduce my music, so I did that, but I couldn’t stop myself from going to my window to look out onto the neighbour’s drive.

I was curious about the cute boy next door. I was glad he didn’t see me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would see him at school tomorrow.