Evol

chapter one

Bedroom - Litany

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Friday 10th May, 2019.

I placed the only thing that mattered to me carefully on the desk. Wasting no time, I found the plug at the end of the lead, shuffling the desk forward to get to the socket behind. As soon as it was shoved in, I sat back on the naked bed.

The boom box, small for what it was, stared back at me. It looked fine on this foreign desk. It looked good there, I told myself. Good.

My hand dug in my jacket pocket, taking out the one black tape, scratched from years of wear and tear, that I'd put aside for today. Today - the day I still didn't know if I was dreading or excited about, even as it happened. It was the tape I was counting on to calm me down, numb the stress as I turned to see the piled boxes taking up most of the space.

This new bedroom was small enough without boxes making it hard to breathe in, never mind move around.

Rising to unpack, I sighed heavily as I heard the dreaded sound. "Brooke!" Came the strained call of my mother, "come help your father with the furniture!"

Putting down the tape, I pushed off the bed. "Coming!"

+ + +

The light had slowly faded to dark. The furniture was set up downstairs. My parents didn't need me for anything else, but sitting on this bed that didn't feel like mine yet was making me feel more dismal than I needed to be. Debating for a few moments whether it was worth causing a stir with my mother, one look around the room was enough to send me down the stairs.

"I'm going for a walk," I murmured, watching as my Dad's grey head turned toward me. They both sat on the couch, feet between them, eyes trained on the Friday night news. This house was small - you could see the shabby kitchen behind me, no doors between it and the living room.

"Where are you going?" My mother's piercing brown eyes pinned me to the floor; it was always hard to stand up to her. She had an intensity about her. . .

"Around the block," I shrugged. "I need some fresh air."

"Take your phone," Dad said, looking away again. The unbothered one. "Try and get a few boxes unpacked by the morning."

I nodded, hurrying toward the door. The walls were feeling closer by the second. Once outside, I gulped in the air before stepping down the driveway and turning to take in the house. It was strange, tiny. This whole town, in fact, was tiny. There'd been hardly anything online, so my research had been limited before the move. My friends had pestered, asking for pictures, but there hadn't been any. Like there was no town at all.

On the drive in, I'd noticed one thing in particular; how completely and utterly old everything was. Not dirty or falling apart, but outdated. The place looked like it belonged in some late-50s movie. Diners, arcades, gas stations with tall neon signs. . . I thought I even saw a few phone boxes, the big yellow kind. Odd, but my heart pounded with blooming love for it. My entire life centred around the past; classic novels, 80s music, 90s movies. . . I couldn't believe how strange and brilliant Grove Hill seemed. And right now, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision to let my parents move.

I walked and walked. The road my house was on was a few blocks away from the centre where everything seemed to be; darkness had descended. Looking down at my loose jeans and thin jumper, the cold nipped.

Traffic lights, high in the sky, flashed. I carried on walking, phone a comfort in my jean pocket, until finally the sounds of voices could be heard. Laughter, chatter. I looked down the street, and the dark was broken by bright pink, electric blue lights. The hub of the town drifted down. I felt the familiar pull; the pull away from crowds, people, from places I could be forced out of my comfort zone.