"I am afraid of getting older… I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…" Sylvia Plath

It was humid as hell, and I had always hated humidity. At least it wasn't raining. Hot rain was even worse. I sighed.

"Hey, this is going to be a good thing for us," my aunt repeated for the millionth time. She had been saying that since we had received news that my great aunt had left my mother her house. Which meant it was mine now. We had been down on our luck for a while now. The bills had piled up. We had been struggling. And this was our new start.

I know that I should be grateful, but why Virginia of all place? Why some go forsaken town in the middle of nowhere?

We passed another cornfield. Or maybe it was the same one. It all seemed to stretch out for miles; the navel of this great nation. I never wanted to see another field of corn again in my life.

"I know," I said, trying to smile. It was hard, leaving right before senior year. Everyone had already made their friends, the ones they always hung out with. I'd only really miss Mitch and Chelsea, my two partners in crime, who had spent countless nights drunk at the beach with me.

She smiled, taking a hand off the wheel to squeeze mine. I smiled.

"To small towns and old racist white men," she cried, yelling out the window, and letting the hot air blow her hair into her face. She went on to roll all the windows down, it was Junel's favorite thing to do. Let the wind run through her hair. It was better when the wind was cold and stung your skin.

I laughed, turning on the radio, searching for something upbeat. I was dead tired from sitting in a car seat for the past three days. It was surprising how tiring sitting could be after a while.

We sang along to the radio, windows down, drinking lukewarm coffee from the last gas station we had stopped at. It was probably the exhaustion, but I was feeling good about this move. I could use a new start. I had always loved change. Change was interesting. And I was restless.

Restless like the sea. I laughed at the thought.

That's what I would miss the most. The sea.

I closed my eyes and let the wind whip up my hair, knotting it into a later to be regretted mess., but that would be later. For now, I could enjoy the small comfort wind was, even it it was hot.

Two cups of coffee later, we pulled up to my great aunt Ximena's house. It was bigger than I had expected.

"So what do you think?"

I nodded, rummaging around for the house key we had been sent. "It's bigger than I expected."

"I know right," Junel grinned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "I was expecting a run down shack or something. But this is great."

"A cliche country house," I added, "now where are the neighbors with the pie to welcome us to the neighborhood."

"Come on, we should get what we can inside. we can start cleaning out tomorrow." Junel stated, grabbing her suitcase from the trunk.

I did the same, following her to the front door. It really was a nice house, country styled. There was even a porch complete with a swing.

Opening the door, we were hit with a musty smell. Dust and choked air. My nose crinkled. "Open up all the windows," we both said to each other. Leaving the our suitcases in the entryway, we ran around opening up every window, ripping the curtains back. The house was clearly the work of an old lady. It was cluttered with mementos and photographs, yellowed with time.

I smiled at the still life that dominated the kitchen. It was as well made as the ones in museums.

Some of these things would have to go, either to the trash of to be donated, maybe even to antique shops. But some of my great aunt's stuff was pretty cool. The kind of stuff sold at hipster stores, overpriced and vintage.

Once the windows had been opened and there was some air flowing through the house, I dragged my suitcase into the living room. My aunt was already there charging her phone.

"No wi-fi," she told me, pouting.

"That sucks." It would take days to get the internet connected. Days without anything to do since I didn't know anyone yet.

"Yeah, but I found some bottles of tequila," she grinned. "Not that I'm okaying underage drinking or anything," she intoned seriously, the effect being ruined by her own smile.

"Of course not Juny," I smirked. My aunt had never cared if I drank so long as I didn't get caught and still did well in school. It was our deal. Do well in school, and you get to do pretty much whatever you want. I loved her, even if her parenting was probably not up to par with what most people thought was "good" parenting.

"so what do you want to do? Because this house kind of creeps me out. I'd rather sleep her int he living room til we start clearing thing out and take a shower," she looked over at me. "Sound good to you?"

I nodded, "yeah, that's fine."

She made me go find the bathroom with her. There were two, thank god. She always took forever to get ready. Not that I was any better, but that was different. Only after she had turned on the light and checked the whole thing out did she let me go back downstairs.

My bones ached, cramped from sitting. I laid down, looking through instagram, bummed I was missing out on all the bonfires and parties back home. Home. Had it been home? I wasn't sure. I had grown up there, back in San Francisco. But I wasn't sure if that really made it home.

I was surprised when Junel only took ten minutes to shower and change. She threw her wet towel at me, "your turn Brett," as she threw her clothes on the floor, already starting to make a mess.

I threw it back, grabbing my stuff before running up the stairs, avoiding getting hit with a towel again. "Te amenzaste," I cried down the stairs. It was easy to forget with Junel that she was technically my parent. She was always so chill.

The bathroom was sort of strange, mostly because it was a strange bathroom. I never felt weird in other people's houses, but for some reason it was bathrooms that reminded me this wasn't my home. But it would be, I reminded myself. It was.

I turned the heat up, happy that Junel hadn't used it all up for once. She was the real cause of the drought in California. I rinsed my hair, ran the soap threw it, glad to finally be rid of all the grime and dirt. I hated going a day without showering. It was disgusting, especially going to sleep without showering.

I changed into a large shirt, before combing my hair and headed downstairs. Junel was already out like a light. She had taken the largest couch. God. I rolled my eyes, stealing all the cushions, before curling up onto another couch. It was hot, and i didn't need a blanket, to make me wake up all sweaty.

It took a week of rummaging around before we had cleared out and sorted all the junk from valuables. We didn't need twenty million curtains, but the rugs were nice. There was moth eaten baby clothes, trash, and a china sets that belong in a museum, we had no clue if they were really valuable but the did look nice.

Only after multiple round of sorting and dusting did the house start to look like our house. Junel immediately claimed the master bedroom downstairs, since it had and adjoining bath and she could "make sure you're not up to no good chamaca." It also was the largest bedroom, but I'm sure that had nothing to do with it.

There were two more bedrooms upstairs and a study that was used as sewing room. I chose the one down the hall with a bay window. It even opened. Lots of air flow for me.

Junel made me go to town to find a place to donate and sell our stuff. I also made a point of doing a grocery run, I was dying for some yogurt.

Mystic Falls was a poster town for small towns. There was only one high school, and i could walk across town easily, not counting the houses surrounding downtown. So, it didn't take long to find a donation bin and antique shop.

It was the antique shop of my dreams. Bells chimed as I walked in.

"Hi anything i can help you with," said a girl my age, standing behind the counter.

"Yeah," I said, "I was looking to sell some stuff, I was wondering if you guys buy stuff?" i had left my boxes of stuff in the car, not sure if they would take anything. I didn't want to look stupid if they said no.

"Yeah sure. Just bring in what you want to sell, and I'll have my mom evaluate it while you wait. Sound good," she asked biting her lip.

"Sounds great," I replied, "let me just go get my stuff."

"Okay, " she nodded, looking towards the backroom.

I headed back out to grab a box of things. Once I came back inside there was an older woman who was clearly this girl's mother, same crooked nose and heart shaped face.

"Hi, I'm Mrs. Sargent. I was told you have some things that might be of value," she asked, glancing at me carefully. She was judging my crop shirt, probably too low for her standards.

"Yeas," I answered snidely. She could go to hell for all I cared.

With care, I Placed the box on the counter, and watched as she pulled things out. She scribbling some thing on a notepad, spending more time on some items than others. It was a boring process.

I wandered away, waiting for her to finish, browsing around. There was a really cool pallet bed. it seemed easy enough to diy, but diy projects never turned out right for me. I scowled. There was a case with jewelry. i never wore jewelry, but I had always like necklaces and bracelets, even earrings.

A gun metal bracelet inlaid with obsidian caught my eye. It was black, and subdued. I wanted it.

"It's twenty five dollars, but you could probably trade in something. you have a lot of neat stuff," the girl said, resting against the glass case. "Are you new here?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Small town," she sighed, fingers trailing patterns on the glass. Her nails were chewed down.

"Yeah, just moved here a week ago." I glanced over at her, taking note of her for the first time. She had a long flow-y dress, hair braided, eyes darting around the room. She seemed sweet, if a little nervous.

"Olivia. Are you still in school?"

"Yeah. Senior actually." I admitted, decided to buy the bracelet. New starts. Well, mostly one of my treat-yourself moments. The bane of my existence.

"Finished," Mrs. Sargent called out, her voice easily carrying through the store. She had all the items neatly laid out. She went over prices and reasons, even some of the history behind the items. It actually seemed quite interesting to be an antique shops person.

I haggled a bit on some of the pieces, trying to get a better deal. Threw in all the other items she hadn't wanted to buy in for free since I needed to get rid of them anyways, and left the other boxes for her to go though. She said she would call me later. Grabbing my cash I headed out, having taken longer than I thought I would have.

It was dark, and school was starting next week. I was not looking forward at all to having to invade a group of friends since birth or something. i shook my head. I'd figure it out later.

Oliva caught up to me as I started to open my car door.

"I noticed you looking at this earlier," she said, holding out the bracelet I had forgotten all about. "Think of it as a welcome to town gift."

"Thank you," I said smiling, "i guess there really is something to southern hospitality."

She laughed, "see you in school i guess then-"

"Brett," I said taking the bracelet from he hand, and pocketing it.

"Well, welcome to Mystic Falls."