No. 62 Claremond Street

3 // The Covert

"Chloe Elena Serrano, baja ahora mismo {come down right now} or we're not visiting the new neighbors today," a lady in a dark blue dress bellows, arms crossed while standing near the dark front door.

45-year-old Isadora Serrano dons her coat, directing her grey eyes from the narrow staircase before her to the gallery wall.

"Coming, Mama," a distant voice responds from the above floor. "Just give me one more minute."

Isadora sighs, now glancing at the array of framed photos spread across the wall, each displaying a happy family of three. "Need to add Milo's photos," she notes to herself, smoothening her coat.

A hurried sound of footsteps are heard from the above floor, breaking the lingering silence of No. 61 Claremond Street. A petite girl rushes down the staircase, her curly brown hair tied into a bushy ponytail, her grey shirt hastily tucked in her flowery skirt. The wrapped hamper of homemade chocolates and biscuits wobbles in her hands.

"Cuidadosa {Careful}," Isadora says, seeing her daughter almost skid when she steps off the last stair. She takes the basket away from her.

17-year-old Chloe Serrano huffs out a sigh, making her irregular fringes fly up for a second. She places her hands on her hips, "You know, Mama. I would've come fifteen minutes earlier, if you didn't ban me from using my powers."

"Then who told you to sneak out last night?" her mother replies, checking her watch. "Ray, estamos retrasados. {Ray, we're running late}."

Chloe rolls her eyes when a huge gush of wind blows past her, marking her dad's entrance.

"Lo siento, Dora {Sorry, Dora}," the 48-year-old man who appears beside Chloe says, adjusting his coat that covers his wrinkle-free shirt and trousers.

Raymon Serrano slicks back the few strands of hair he has on his head. "Just had a brief meeting with the folks."

Dora nods, shifting her gaze to her daughter, "Tienes todo, Chloe? {Got everything, Chloe?}"

"Sí Mama," Chloe replies, taking the basket away from her.

Dora opens the front door, brows furrowed when she meets a shallow, dry breeze. She gazes over at the few trees that line either end of Claremond Street, fanning herself, "It just gets hotter and hotter."

She steps onto the porch, shaking her head, "If only the committee allowed me to set more trees. At least, we'd attract some rain."

"Dora," Ray calls, standing beside her. He watches Chloe descend down the porch, and enter the parched frontyard. "The committee said they'll plant them soon. You don't have to waste your powers over this."

He looks away when he meets his wife's stern gaze. "Let's go visit our new neighbors, Chloe. Before anyone else comes and showers them with their welcome gifts."

Chloe nods, though she's definitely certain that nobody else would visit the new residents of No. 62. Even her dear brother Milo found an excuse not to come.

"No puedo creer que {I can't believe that} Jasper and Pearl's sons have moved in here," Dora says, stepping into the frontyard. "After what all happened. I thought they're living with..." She stops, fumbling on the name.

"What's his name again?"

"Diselhock. Keith Diselhock," Ray answers. "No sé {I don't know}, but I heard he was the one who wanted the boys to get a home of their own."

Dora shakes her head, "How can he do this? He's their guardian. And, they're still so joven {young} -"

"No te preocupes por ellos, Mamá {Don't worry about them, Mama}," Chloe replies. "I've been in the same classes as Tom this past year, and he's perfectly fine. He's taking good care of his brother too."