One

Introducing characters.

I'm nothing like my brother. My parents have always wanted me to be like Nick. He's extroverted, captain of the football team, senate president, and gets all As. Not to mention, he’s exceedingly popular amongst the cheerleaders.  

I’ve always been one to sit alone at the back of a classroom reading a good novel or people-watching. People only know me as ‘Nick’s brother’. They don’t even know my name, which is Riley. I’ve always hated my name. It’s a girl's name. How was that not clear when my parents named me? But it’s not just my first name. My last name is Bellafiore. It’s Italian, meaning flower. It’s also treated as feminine in the Italian language.  

Being unpopular isn’t so bad though. People don’t get the chance to know everything about you. The whole school found out Nina Gomez and Rob Johnson had sex in the janitors closet ten minutes after the deed was done. Talk about an invasion of privacy. Thanks to my unpopularity, no one found out about the time I lost my... never mind. But I’d never want to be like Nick. I’d much rather be surrounded by books than surrounded by girls. 

Saturday, October 9th, we moved out of our home in Evanston, Illinois, to another town not too far away, called Arlington Heights. My mom spent all morning packing the car, and Nick usually wakes up early, so he helped her. By the time my dad woke up, everything was in the car ready to go. He got ready as the rest of us gradually said goodbye to the house. I walked through the hallway and into my room for one last time. I brushed my fingers along the old caramel walls and ran my hand through my curly brown hair before walking out of my room and closing the door behind me.  

I sat in the back seat, waiting for the rest of my family. Eventually, we drove out of the driveway, and I watched through the window as our old home faded from view. I scrolled through my playlist and pushed my earbuds into my ears. The voice of Beach House singing Space Song replaced all other sounds. I rested my head on the headrest and closed my eyes. I was certain that with a new town, came a fresh start. 

 

 

~ 

 

 

When we entered the town, I sat up and looked out the window. We drove past a series of identical brick buildings, some white and some red. I then saw what looked to be a sidewalk coffee shop. On the corner of the shop was a big glass window and the brick walls were painted a beige brown color. A couple of tables and chairs were arranged outside the front door, along with a small chalk-board easel. I noticed a line of people trailing out the door. 

We passed a couple more buildings. A church, a grocery store, … what looked to be a bookstore. I hoped a bookstore. Then we turned onto a small dirt road that led down a hill. The street was aesthetic looking, with red-leaved trees surrounding the houses and roads. There were so many trees, they could've made an overpass above our car. We drove over a small stone bridge, and past a few more houses, until our car gradually came to a stop.  

In front of us was a red house which reminded me of a barn. It had lots of windows on the front.  

 

“This is it!” my mom eagerly announced. “Go have a look!” 

Nick scrambled out of our family’s brown SUV and ran to the back of the house, ducking out of sight. I opened the car door and followed him. Pine trees circled around to the back of the house, where it was looking out onto a lake.  

I heard Nick exclaim, “Yes! Lake parties!” I rolled my eyes. Of course, the first thing he was thinking about was throwing parties. 

I walked back to the front of the house and walked inside the white rustic door. The entry way was spacious. All the walls and floors were polished wood, which I think made it look bigger. There was a striped runner on the ground and some cabinets lined the walls. On the opposite side of the room was a grand piano, and behind it, a staircase leading up to the second floor. I turned a corner to my left and walked into the gray marble kitchen. My mom and dad were busy carrying boxes inside. I crossed my arms down on the countertop and leaned against it. 

 

“You guys need any help?” I asked. 

“No honey. Go explore the town or something,” my mom said without looking up from the boxes. I shrugged and started towards the door.  

“Where are the rest of the boxes?” I inquired. 

“They’re...” my dad flung his hand toward the direction of the car and made a circling motion in the air like he was trying to find the right words. “They’re out there in the trunk.” 

I walked outside toward the open trunk and looked at the remaining boxes. They were labeled, Garage, Nick, and Riley. 

I carefully pulled out the box with my name on it and carried it inside. My parents didn’t look up at me as I walked past them. I carried the box to a full-length mirror right outside the bathroom and set it down. I grabbed a navy sweater, pulled it over my back, and slid my arms through the sleeves. Once it was on, I stood in front of the mirror. I gazed at my reflection.  

My warm ivory skin made my thin lips look red. I’ve always thought I had the face of a child. I’m pretty tall; I’m 5’9. Nick too. I have decent eyebrows- they're not thin, but not thick either, only you can’t see them because my brown, curly hair falls just above my eyelids. My Adams apple is noticeable, I have a long neck, and a round chin. I have high cheek bones, which makes my face look even more skeletal. My nose is sort-of large, which I’ve always been insecure about.  

I’ve never thought I was attractive. Sure, I’m not ugly. But I’m not the best-looking guy either. Nick on the other hand, looks like a young Johnny Depp. His hair is straight, unlike mine and my 100% Italian dads, and his skin is darker because he takes after both my parents. I’m the only one in my family with pale skin.  

I snapped out of my daze, walked out the door and up the dirt road. Then I turned a corner towards the main, paved street and started walking in the direction in which we’d come. The farther I walked, the more I saw. Soon, I came across the buildings we’d passed. I looked both ways before jogging across the street. I approached the first building and looked at the sign. The only word it read: ‘BOOKS.’ I was right! It was a bookstore.  

I walked toward the front door, which was made up of two 10-panel doors. The display case to the left of them presented hundreds of different books lying on the shelves inside. I tugged on the black Victorian style door handle and walked inside.