All the Wicked Things

Chapter 1

The rain steadily dripped down as I looked out the passenger side window. How I dreaded days like this—not because I detested the rain. It was, after all, an essential necessity. No, I dreaded days like this because I would spend its entirety being judged, being weighed and measured against an unspoken standard that I most certainly would not live up to. And of course, there would be some invisible line I would cross at some point for nothing more than simply being me.

The new girl.

No one liked the new girl. Not really. Girls were either jealous or indifferent, never really allowing a new girl to infiltrate their folds; and boys were annoyingly attentive, only because they were interested in something new, something untouched by the rest of the male populous. At least for now, anyways.

New girl.

That's what I would be called...for God knows how long. Weeks, months, maybe even until graduation. Thankfully, that wasn't too far away. Wednesday had been my seventeenth birthday, and with all the unfortunate changes going on in my life, it was at least one day I had looked forward to. A year and a half was all that stood between me and NYU.

I wasn't new to the term: new girl. We'd moved several times since I started pre-school, but always to a bigger, better city; one that would further my father's career and, as he put it, broaden my educational experience. That's how he convinced himself he was doing this for me rather than him.

But this time, it was different. The circumstances that led us to Blackstone, Massachusetts, the town that my father grew up in, were different. Much different, but then again, so were we at this point. I imagined all people changed to some degree after going through a traumatic experience.

"Your dad wanted to be here," my Aunt Meredith began, "but...he had to go back to the city to square a few things away with work."

New York City.

Where our home was, where Theo was, where everything was. My father said it wasn't a punishment but it certainly felt like one, and in all my anger over the last few months, I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth—that no matter where he moved me, I'd always feel alone and my broken heart would never heal.

"I know," I replied quietly, forcing a half smile onto my face.

I continued to stare out the window as we passed house after house adorned in the most ridiculous Halloween decorations I'd ever seen. Some were noble attempts at the macabre, but most were just gaudy displays of cheap plastic and orange lights. But I did notice that each house had the same bizarre-looking metal wreath hanging on its doors.

"Why does everyone have the same wreath?" I asked, thinking there was some weird conformity going on that I wasn't aware of.

"Wreaths?" Aunt Meredith asked, quizzically, until I pointed to the oddities. "Oh no, those aren't wreaths. They're troll crosses."

"So what, they protect the houses against trolls?" I said skeptically, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Well, not just against trolls but all manner of evil spirits." She laughed as she saw my reaction to her words. "It's not just for Halloween but to celebrate the Culling of the Wicked."

"Oh, well why didn't you say so," I laughed, a sarcastic laugh.

She nudged me and continued with her story. "It's a weeklong celebration of remembrance for the humans who wiped out the wicked ones. The monsters were defeated on All Saint's Day, and each year Blackstone holds a festival in its honor, culminating in the parade a couple Tuesdays from now."