Maddie's Monster

Chapter 2: Greeting a Lady of the House

"Here we are!" My dad pulled the car into park in front of Oma's house. I looked up from the dime-store adventure novel I had been trying to read for several weeks and glanced at my father. He looked at me and gave me a grin from ear to ear.

Whenever we went out as a family- my parents, Alex, my older brother, and I- people would always make some sort of comment to how I looked like a mini clone of my father and that my brother looked a lot more like my mother. I would be lying if I said that these types of comments never troubled me.

I had his broad hands, his deep set brown eyes that disappeared into a sea of wrinkles whenever he smiled, and his short, stocky frame. I guess these features are somewhat attractive on a middle aged man, but not on an already insecure teenager who was never much of a looker to begin with, especially compared her overachieving older brother with movie star good looks.

"Well, Maddiwobbles, looks like I'll get your stuff from the back. Can you bring in your smaller backpack?"

"'Kay." I paused. I dogeared the corner of the page in my novel to save my place. Normally I wouldn't do such a horrid thing to a book, but I was so uninterested in it's flimsy plotline and characters that I didn't really care.

Dad shut off the engine and hopped out, shutting the door loudly behind him. I grabbed my backpack that was sitting at my feet and got out of the passenger's seat. The smell of sand, waves and salt hit me full force in the face. I took a deep breath of the heavy smell and exhaled slowly. It had been years since I'd been to the beach, let alone Topsail.

I adjusted the strap of my backpack so it hung comfortably on my shoulder. I turned to face Oma's house, the place that I barely remembered from my childhood, but would call my home for the next two months. Small fragments of memory started to come back to me as I looked at the little two-story beach house with Tarheel blue chipping off of its cedar panels. The upper floor of the house was comprised of a small hallway and one room with large windows lining each wall. Mom and I would spend our summers in that room. I think Oma used to wake us up to the smell of apple pancakes.

The house was situated about two blocks inland from the beach, a reasonable ten minute or so walk. It stood on spindly legs like some overlarge, awkward insect. Around the house grew a giant jungle of native plant life. The untrimmed yaupon shrubs ran rampant, and the yellow jessamine vines curled up around the stilts that supported the house. As wild and uncared for as the house seemed, it emanated a sort of grudging, friendly welcome that one would expect out of a year-round resident of Topsail.

"Why don't you go inside and say 'hi' to Oma for me? I'll bring your stuff in." He had already pulled out my luggage from the trunk- a small, plastic floral-patterned suitcase with my clothes in it, my favorite pillow and a large, graffiti-covered backpack with anything else I could possibly need.

"No, I got it." I adjusted the strap of my book bag and grinned.

"You sure?" He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Yeah. Leave everything there. I'll get it all on a second trip."

"Well- okay then. Make sure to call Mom before too long and tell her the car ride went swimmingly. Tell her that I am going to stop by Alex's place and go out to dinner with him before heading to Boswick for the meeting. I'll probably forget to call her."

"I will." I ran over to him and gave him a hug and peck on the cheek.

"You stay safe, you hear?"

"Right."

"No hanging out with scary people, okay?"

"Of course not!" I made a face. It wasn't much of a secret that I was a giant homebody and introvert. If a circumstance or person made me uncomfortable, it is kind of easy to tell that I want to get out that situation as soon as possible.