It was lightly raining in the town of Burkon, placed in the middle of the state of Oregon. Rain pattered of the roofs of the many houses. Inside one house, number 82, with brick walls and stained wood panels, the lights glowing brightly and shining through the big, glass windows, sat a boy in his bedroom with light brown hair, messy and flowing around his ears. His black rimmed glasses rested on his pale nose, surrounded by a few freckles that barely showed. His navy blue polo button up sleeves, with only one buttoned up, wrapped around his arms that rested on his desk. His arm was quickly writing, with a dull pencil, into a brown leather journal, scribbling fast and taking a few minutes to think.
"Emmitt!" called a woman's voice.
The boy, named Emmitt, kept writing, ignoring his name that had been called.
"Emmitt Jackson Hendrix," yelled a voice, now sounding annoyed.
"Yeah, mom, one minute!" Emmitt yelled back, sighing. He closed his journal and left it on the desk, getting up to leave his room.
The woman's voice belonged to Isabelle Hendrix, Emmitt's mother, with her blonde hair flowing down her shoulders, her roots dark and showing. She stood at the stove, stirring at a pot. Her husband John, with his scruffy dark brown hair and his facial hair just starting to grow again, was sitting at the table, writing something down next to a calculator. Maggie, Emmitt's ten year old sister, stood with her arms crossed, leaning on the counter, her freckled face tied up with a frown. "Emmitt should set the table tonight," she said grumpily.
"No, Maggie, he did it last night. Your turn," Mrs. Hendrix said, grabbing the salt and shaking it into the pot. She looked up to see Emmitt enter the kitchen. "You can do something to help. You know what night it is."
"Oh, I totally forgot that she was coming tonight," Emmitt said, passing by Maggie to open the cutlery drawer. "I'll do the forks and spoons if you do the plates."
"I like doing the forks," Maggie said, her brown ponytail flying around and she turned towards Emmitt. "You know that I like doing the forks."
"Then do the forks, for all I care," Emmitt sighed, passing the cutlery to Maggie.
"Hey, you two. Teamwork makes the dream work," Mr. Hendrix called out, barely looking up from his scribbled notes.
"Your dad's right," Mrs. Hendrix agreed, shaking her head. "We don't want any fighting for when Ms. Shepard comes by. Work together, please."
This was a household tradition, that started way back when Maggie was born. The Hendrix family had lived in Burkon, Oregon for about seventeen years, and they had met their neighbour across the street who had recently moved in. Isabelle and Daphne, which was Ms. Shepard's first name, had hit it off instantly and talked a lot about their past, like adults do. Since Daphne lived on her own, Mrs. Hendrix invited Daphne over every Tuesday and Saturday to enjoy a dinner with the family. And they had never stopped doing it since.
"I've always wondered mom," Maggie started, as Emmitt started dishing out plates on to the dining room table. "Why does Ms. Shepard come over so often?"
"It's only two days of each week, darling," Mrs. Hendrix smiled, giving a small chuckle. "Me and your dad are just being good neighbours. It's called hospitality, right John?"
"Hospitality. Yes," Mr. Hendrix said, nodding.
"I get that, but why does she live alone?" asked Maggie. "Doesn't she have a husband or something?"
"Not everyone does. That's also none of our business, Miss Maggs." She turned away from the stove, turning it down to a simmer, patting Maggie's head.
"I'm going to ask her myself," Maggie announced.
"That's a bad idea, Mag," Emmitt voiced up. "Like mom said, it's none of our business."
"You aren't even curious? What if she is a witch that was banished to Oregon?"
"Oh, stop," Mrs. Hendrix said. "Don't be rude. She isn't a witch. She's a very nice lady who's my age, and needs a few friends. There's nothing bad about that."
"It's still a possibility," Maggie shrugged, going to set the forks and spoons next to the plates.
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"Someone get the door," Mr. Hendrix called, as the door bell rung out.
"I've got it," Mrs. Hendrix said, hurriedly running over to the door. She opened it to see Ms. Shepard, her dark brown hair in curls, her under eyes dark. She wore a nice blouse and some jeans. "Daphne!"
"Hi, Isabelle. What a terrible night out, right? My hair might be a little wet, thanks to the rain."
Ms. Shepard smiled, coming in and giving Isabelle a nice hug. "Well, supper is ready! It's been keeping hot on the stove for a while."
Everyone sat around the table, passing around the spaghetti, rain pattering off the window.
"So, how did that interview ago?" asked Mrs. Hendrix, putting shredded cheese on her pasta.
"Oh, you know. I don't think it was the right fit for me. I'd be indoors all day, and the pay wasn't all that great. I think it's for the better."
"Well, I'm sure you'll find a job. You could always go back to the supermarket in the end, right? That job worked pretty well for you for a while."
"Ms. Shepard," Maggie started, staring right at her. "Why do you live alone?"
Mrs. Hendrix almost choked on her food, and she put a napkin to her mouth and looked right at Maggie. "Mags, what did we talk about?"
"It's fine, Isabelle. Mine as well tell her. I've known you guys for such a long time that it's fair I talk a bit more about myself."
"You really don't have to talk about the divor-"
"Izz, don't worry," smiled Ms. Shepard, grabbing Mrs. Hendrix's hand and nodding. "Maggie, I moved here about the year you were born. I used to live up in Chicago with my husband Stephen and my son, my only son, Gavin."
"You have a son?" Maggie asked excitedly. "Can we meet him?"
"No, unfortunately. He still lives with his father up in Chicago. You see, everything was good, but we were young and we just weren't ready to raise a child together. I had been slacking with my job, and I hadn't been paying the bills much, but Stephen had been. So he was carrying the weight of the insurance and buying things for Gavin. We got a separation, and then we ended up getting into a custody battle of my son. I lost that, since I was in a bad place. I had also been drinking and doing some adult things that I shouldn't have been doing. So, Stephen got custody of Gavin and I moved away to start a new life. It's been difficult finding my way again, and everyday I miss my son, but I haven't contacted him in a while. I used to call him a lot as a child but we've stopped now."
Maggie nodded, staring back down at her pasta on her plate. "Oh."
"You are very strong, Daphne," smiled Mrs. Hendrix. "We love you very much."
Emmit kept quiet, eating his spaghetti.
The rest of the dinner was quiet, with the odd laugh erupting between Isabelle and Daphne. Before everyone was finished, Emmitt got up with his plate.
"Oh, sweetie, are you done?" asked his mother.
"Yeah. Can I be excused? I think I have a bit of a headache, and I need to do some homework."
"Must be the rain," Ms. Shepard added. "Sometimes I get headaches too because of the weather."
"Yeah," Emmitt nodded. "Can I be excused now?"
"Sure, love. I did make dessert though," Mrs. Hendrix explained.
"I'll pass. Nice seeing you, Ms. Shepard."
"You too, Emmitt," Ms. Shepard smiled.
Emmitt placed his plate in the sink, and walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Once he reached his room, he locked the door and pulled out the chair at his desk. He grabbed the pencil, flipped open his journal, and started to write. But he couldn't focus.
He looked up at his bedroom window to see the rain falling down, clinging on the glass. He wished that he had someone to talk to. But then again, he was fine being by himself, and he didn't need anyone else. But going back to school in September was going to be a nightmare.
He hated school. He hated everything about it. He had problems focusing and got caught daydreaming. He did have a few friends, but they were loud, and they played on the school basketball team. One was named Andrew Sicklemore, who had jet black hair and was extremely tall. The other one was named Otis Hargrove, who talked way to much and was always caught with the weird sugary drinks from the cafeteria. And the last one was named Casper Jones, who enjoyed playing video games in his spare time, and had already slept with four girls.
His parents didn't know about those friends, really. Casper had came over once, and it was fun, but Emmitt was bored after a while and really wanted to go out on a bike ride.
Casper lay on his bed, moving his fingers around the screen, the volume up way too loud. "Shit, dude. I almost got that kill. To shit with my winning streak."
Emmitt had nodded along, sitting in his desk chair, looking out at the blue sky in mid March. He had been dying to go explore and draw the leaves on the trees. It was almost spring, which meant new life. "Hey, Casper? You think we should go outside?"
But Casper had ignored him, his fingers still moving around the screen, his eyes locked. "SHIT! Honestly, this game must be rigged. Oh, I got that one guy."
From then on, Emmitt decided that he wouldn't invite his friends over to the house. He decided that it was best to live life by himself, to adventure and do the things he wanted to do without others in the way.