The next few days are a blurry neverending haze of cardboard, organization, and take-out dinners. Normally Mom would cook, but with all the stress and preoccupation of the move there's just no time. Not that I'm complaining, of course. I'm always down for some Mickey D's or pizza. Deep down, I think Mom feels the same way too. Sometimes you just need some greasy, artery-clogging, delicious awfulness. After all, they're popular for a reason. Might not be good for you, but I'll be damned if it ain't tasty as hell.
We get all the furniture and appliances set up. On the first full day alone, we get the bulk of the kitchen, living room, and dining room all situated. The little details, like knick knacks and whatnot, are saved for the following days. Day three is dedicated solely to the study. Unpacking all of Dad's old things proves to be an easier task than putting it away, though not by much. Despite rifling through all the memories, what takes the biggest chunk of our Monday is made up of alphabetizing the Library and stocking the shelves that line three of the four walls. The last wall holds a wide arched window that overlooks King Avenue, and we set Dad's desk underneath it. In the end, it looks nearly identical to how Dad's office had been set up back in Huntley. It is the first room we finish in full, and part of me wonders if it's because Mom wants to get it out of the way so she has a place to be alone in her feelings. I don't blame her; I'll probably do the same from time to time.
When it comes to my personal things, I take my time. My bedroom is long, with off-white carpet and a window on the right hand wall. My bed lays horizontal against the wall opposite the door, just past the rectangular window; the gray plaid comforter and plain white sheets have been in a beautiful disarray since the morning. A black tall bedside table sits between my bed and the window, its top decorated with a small lamp and a digital alarm clock. A drawer takes up the bottom portion, offering a deep storage compartment. I intend on only using it for certain unmentionables as I have in the past, and I hope that I am able to continue my streak of it avoiding curious eyes.
My dresser, an old brown wooden thing, waits inside the closet and takes up the majority of the space. With five drawers, all of my clothes are folded neatly inside their designated sections: jeans in the bottom drawer, khakis and formal pants in the next, long-sleeved shirts in the middle, tees in the second drawer, and the top reserved for socks and underwear. A hamper takes up what little space is available next to the dresser, already half full.
Next to the painted white closet doors is worn loveseat in an aged floral pattern. I had found Ole Petunia at a thrift store when I was fifteen and fell in love immediately. Mom and Dad were hesitant at first to let me buy her, but gave in when they couldn't find a brand new one that I liked just as much. She has proven to be a reliable and supportive friend after endless nights of video game binges, movie marathons, and make out sessions with Peyton. On either side of Ole Petunia, bookending her, are twin square espresso-colored end tables. The one on the left has a bare top, but the one on the right holds various items like my wallet, a pair of sunglasses, and my key ring.
On the other side, next to the window, is a short coffee table. It holds my TV (a simple 32-inch screen with two sets of legs like wide Vs), Xbox, and a red controller. My small collection of games is still packed away for the time being, having little energy for a gaming night lately. I'm sure once we're more settled in, the urge will return. There's still some summer left before school starts, so I don't doubt at least one of those nights will be spent killing Nazi zombies or building strongholds out of various cube blocks.
An empty shelf as tall as me sits next to the TV. Once I get around to it, my video games and books will fill the spaces. Perhaps I'll include some knick knacks as well, little bits of memorabilia from life before I moved to Heritage Grove. Maybe I'll pick up some neat little pieces to add while Mom and I are here. Who knows how long we'll end up living in this small town? Could be a month, could be a year, could be forever. To be fair, I don't plan on sticking around longer than I have to. College calls once my high school days are over, though I don't know where I want to go yet. Peyton and I were considering applying to some schools together, and despite the miles between us I'm fairly certain that this is still our plan.
YOU ARE READING
Incinerate
ParanormalWhen Ash Woodward moves to a new town before the beginning of the school year, he makes it his goal to befriend anti-social track star Sera von Abaddon. As Ash traverses his new life with his new friends, mysteries arise as to who Sera truly is. But...
