A clock on the wall told her it was five, its face looking gloomy as Olivia felt. Both of them watched her mother unpack, except its face was dark in the shadows, hiding in place. If only it could be this easy for her. Maybe if she wound it backwards, it would reverse time.
All she wanted was to go home.
September was gloomy, but it was far worse here. This little stretch of road was far from any form of civilization. It was a strange place; when they drove in, she'd thought it a joke. How could this possibly be their new home? There wasn't a soul around to speak with, so she resorted to meaningful glances at an emotionless clock. It was useless except to tell her how long she'd been here—and how long it would be till she left.
It could be years.
Olivia watched blankly as her mother organized old classics on a shelf. “So where's the rest of the people?” she asked at last, breaking the silence. “This has to be the deadest place in all of Maine.”
“They're studying,” her mother replied, ignoring her last comment. “It's September, right? I told you about the old schoolhouse down the road.”
“Oh, right.” She tried to wrap her mind around the idea once more. “I'm still homeschooled but I'm going to a schoolhouse now.”
“You'd understand if you decided to go for a visit,” was the sharp reply. “I think you should, anyway. Get some fresh air.”
Olivia gazed at the dull sunlight that spilled in through the window. She couldn’t decide if the curtains made it darker—after all, perhaps even the sun didn't like this place.
“It might change your mind,” Mom added hopefully. “I know you're smarter than to hate the place before you even see it.”
“My mind isn't going to change,” Olivia replied, playing indignantly with a lock of hair. “At the most I'll understand the...” She paused, then said slowly, “The concept of a schoolhouse for homeschoolers to learn in a group but among people they know. Wouldn't that be more distracting?” Having found entertainment in being a nuisance, she continued, more boldly this time. “I have always been a homeschooler but you told me to study alone so I would actually learn something. Why did you change your mind?”
“Go for a walk,” Mom snapped. “You really need air.”
Olivia sighed and gave up, but hesitated halfway to the door. She didn't want her mind to be changed. She glanced at the clock; it watched her mournfully, and she felt very much like a traitor abandoning a friend. “I need air, but not from this place,” she muttered at last. Then she snatched her coat from the rack by the entrance, and marched outside without a look back.
The neighborhood was very small and old. Olivia took in some flowerbeds, a front yard with dying grass, a bicycle.
The first crisp leaves of autumn had fallen to the ground. They glowed the most pleasant shades of red and gold, covering the streets and giving them a coat. Nobody had done any raking in this neighborhood, so the road was painted with several layers of red. If someone stepped on it, the beautiful painting would be smudged and vanish.
The entire neighborhood looked like something out of a fairy tale during autumn. She took in all the sights and smells, and tried to reason with herself. It's not that bad, Olivia, said her conscience. Just give it a chance. It would be nice to give it a chance, because the place was beautiful. Although maybe it was a bad fairy tale, and she was the main character who would perish.
Something was different here, she realized, stopping to hug herself tightly. Or maybe it was just her own imagination.
Olivia stepped into the flawless coat of red leaves, feeling satisfaction when that perfect painting was destroyed. Anyone looking out their window would see her—a short brunette without a coat, stomping on the autumn leaves. Destroying a work of art, kicking away shades of gold.
But they didn't—nobody else came out of their house. She thought it might be becausethey didn't want to disturb the red carpet.
“Superstitious people,” Olivia muttered. She kicked some leaves up for good measure, then continued on.
The road took her past dozens of little houses making their own look huge. Some of them were creepy but others were cute, unusual colors. Olivia paused in front of one particular with a lawn covered with all sorts of angels and gnomes.
She frowned up at an angel whose face seemed to be in agony. Did this used to be a gravestone? When Olivia got back to her mother tonight, she would have a lot more to complain about.
Her mind certainly wasn’t changed. She fled from the gravestone, thinking of how she didn't have to live here.
Olivia was approaching what looked like a small library. A thrill went through her—she loved books! Then her eyes took in the houses surrounding this library, and she couldn't help but note how curiously placed it was. Shouldn't libraries be in a place with more traffic? There weren’t a whole lot of cars here.
Oh, right. This must be the schoolhouse. It made sense. Breathing heavily, she tossed her hair off her face and ignored the feeling that told her to look over her shoulder.
Stepping forward a little more, she noticed a wishing well in front of the library. As she approached it, the breeze picked up again, blowing her hair in all directions. Rubbing away enormous goosebumps, she peered down the well, taking in the glint of hundreds of coins that had probably been down there for years.
Welcome back, Dogar.
Olivia yelped and scrambled away from the wishing well. It was the wind, nothing more. It sure sounded like the wind—it wasn’t very loud at all—of course the wind wouldn’t know her last name!—
“Hello.” This time it was a real voice, a girl.
Olivia looked up slowly, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks. This girl just saw her yelp and run away from the well. So much for first impressions. “Hi.”
The girl stood exactly at the opposite end of the wishing well; though she wore a little frown, she didn’t mention the outburst. She was short, with shoulder-length red hair. She wore a comfortable looking sweatshirt for the season. “You must be the new girl.” She finally smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. “My name is Shanna.”
Olivia nodded again, taking deep breaths to steady herself. “My name’s Olivia.”
“The others are still inside. Class ended a couple minutes ago. They always stay late to watch movies…play chess…” Shanna shrugged. “I just don’t bother, most of them are a little shallow in the head.”
Olivia felt a confused frown creep onto her face. “I see.” Someone obviously had a bad attitude.
“When do you start studying with us?” Shanna continued, playing lightly with a coin in her hand; she tossed it and caught it, over and over again. Olivia wondered why she didn’t just throw it in the well.
“My mom arranged for me to start going in a couple days,” Olivia replied, watching the coin with unease. “After I’ve settled in.”
Shanna nodded. “Makes sense.” She shrugged and added, “You can always start going early, though. They might be kinda dumb, but I always choose them over absolute boredom.”
“I see,” Olivia said softly, taking a little step back. Shanna didn’t notice; she was too busy playing with the coin.
Shanna noticed Olivia’s interest in the coin. She smiled and explained, “I’m trying to decide what to wish for. Doesn’t it always seem like all your wishes sound stupid? Like, right at the moment when you can have them granted, none of them make sense.”
“Sure, I bet it does,” Olivia replied hurriedly. “But it’s only a wishing well.”
Shanna didn’t reply, but smiled mysteriously. In the end, she tucked the coin in her pocket. “You’ll see,” she said dismissively. “There’s never any harm in trying.”
Olivia simply nodded.
“I had better head home,” Shanna told her, with another one of those false smiles. “See you ‘round.”
“Definitely.” Not.
Olivia watched Shanna walk away until she vanished into one of the houses across the street. She didn’t feel safe until the door closed behind the girl, keeping her out of sight.
The well stood there, innocent as ever. She reached out and touched its brick surface. It seemed to vibrate under her fingers. Olivia convinced herself that she was imagining it all, backing away slowly.
Olivia didn't like this place, the well, Shanna, or the haunting presence in the air. It was too much; she turned and fled home. Houses glided past as she ran back down the sidewalk. Her pounding footsteps reverberated in all directions, breaking the silence. It was loud enough to wake the dead.
“You're losing it,” she kept repeating, listening to her voice as it echoed over and over. Did she really sound that shaky? “Olivia, you need a nap. You need a relaxing shower. You need a glass of lemonade. Gosh...”
She saw a few curtains pull open as she passed. Perhaps Olivia really had woken the dead. Up until now, she had seen no signs of life at all—except for that weirdo, Shanna. Acutely aware of the brand new attention she had earned herself, she ran even faster.
Olivia wiped her forehead, skidding to a halt at the front door. She hesitated, turning to peer down the street once more. The well could be seen from where she stood, but it seemed very distant, a little speck way down there. She waited to see a black cat cross the road, and could not believe how superstitious she suddenly felt.
Olivia darted inside, slamming the door. It made the house shake.
“What's wrong with you?” Mom's voice was full of alarm.
“I'm going crazy,” Olivia muttered, hurrying into the kitchen for a soda. Caffeine made everything better. “Crazy. Absolutely nuts.”
“I see the walk didn't help you much at all,” her mother said crossly, hauling some empty boxes into the tiny garage.
Olivia didn't reply, glancing out the window in the direction of the well. She tried to find words that would express her bitter distaste for this place, yet they wouldn’t come. Finally, “No. It didn't help.”
After draining a soda with shaky hands, she went to her room, kicking one of the boxes hard. The sound it made startled her, and she groaned loudly, dropping onto the bed.
“Why, Mom?” Olivia growled, burying her face in a pillow. “Why? Why did you have to move here?”
With a heavy sigh, she curled up on the bed and finally let some tears slide down her cheeks. They gathered silently into her pillow, and suddenly she found herself rattling with noiseless, painful sobs.
She could scream and hit the walls, do something to call Mom’s attention, but refused to. They were already here, so what was the point? This was her new home. She could cry to her mother, but that wouldn’t get her more than a halfhearted hug and a cup of tea.
We've only lived here four days, she thought, resting her head on the pillow. I'm recovering from the long trip. Things will get better.
They have to. Because I can't live like this.
Olivia toyed with one of her bracelets, taking deep breaths. She was seventeen, almost eighteen, and fantasies about scary towns were for kids.
Unpacking. I'll do some of that. It'll distract me. Olivia sat up and pulled her hair, now matted with tears, back into a ponytail. She gazed at the maroon walls, decked with a few of her drawings—things she worked on at night, when sleep wouldn't come.
This bedroom screamed for any kind of noise.
I wish I had a piano, she thought bitterly. Her brand-new electric keyboard stood in the corner; a worn acoustic guitar leaned on the wall beside it. Neither would ever bring her the same joy as a grand piano like her dad’s.
Olivia missed being able to feel the music vibrate under her fingers, dance in the air and crawl up the walls, filling her with a power that didn’t come with anything else. Her life had spiraled out of control, so a bit of power would be nice, especially now. Sighing, she glanced out the window and watched the sun begin to set.
Things would get better. They had to.