Cedar Creek High has around one thousand students, and its elementary, junior high, and high school buildings are on one campus up on the side of the mountain that overlooks the town. Honestly, I’m crossing my fingers and toes that informing the principal that I was moving here would work well in my favor and give me an edge in securing the position.
I was in Tucson for over a year, and it felt too long. I loved my teaching position there because it was my first professionalteaching job, but there came a day when I needed more—desired a different change of pace that I couldn’t find in Tucson.
One Saturday a month ago, I was scrolling through jobs when I spotted the second-grade teaching position with ahiring immediatelytag. It didn’t take much thought. I’m impulsive that way. I have years of experience bouncing around because of my parents, who are to thank for that side of my personality.
I applied for the job; they did a background check, and not even five minutes into the virtual interview, I told Alaric Sinclair, the principal, that I was moving to Cedar Creek. It just spewed out of my mouth flawlessly, and it was settled. I put in my notice with the school back in Tucson and began packing everything in my apartment.
My blood bubbles and pops, excitement and nerves flowing through my veins.
This was probably stupid.
A major move to a place completely different than what I’m used to, with no job.
But damn, it’s elating.
And luckily, the house has grown on me in the last several hours.
A flash of light through the window catches the corner of my eye. I dodge all the suitcases thrown on the floor, stepping over them to reach the window. Pulling back the fabric of the curtain more than it was, I peer out into the yard, blanketed by darkness with only a minuscule amount of silver light from the crescent moon above.
I scan the row of houses across the street from mine, cars parked in the driveways, their windows reflecting the solar sidewalk lights. Just as I’m about to turn back around and finish my task, my pulse batters against the inside of my neck at the black SUV-bodied vehicle on the other side of the street that wasn’t there earlier.
The make and model of the car are nearly impossible to figure out in the dark, but as a hooded figure shifts in the driver’s seat, the hairs on my arms stand on end, sending a bolt of fear that clenches every muscle. I get closer to the window, telling myself it’s just a vehicle—probably someone the neighbors know.
Being alone in a new place with a house as unnerving as this makes me hyperaware of everything—aware of each little sound and every draft that tickles my skin.
Examining my yard again, my heart thumps rapidly, lurching into my throat. A second figure leans against the willow tree in the shadows. Their hands are tucked into their pockets, their face hidden by a black hood.
My nose caresses the glass to get closer as the doorbell rings. The soul in my body escapes at the exact moment Rossco throws himself off the bed and chaotically sprints to the front of the house, the wood boards groaning under his weight. His barking vibrates the floorboards under my bare feet, rattling me more than I already am.
I slowly walk through the dark hallway to the front door, my eyes fastened onto the wood as if I’ll magically get some X-ray vision and see who the hell is on the other side.
It’s the first night, and this solid door is already going to get me murdered. I knew it. Should’ve trusted my gut feeling the second I pulled up to the house.
Nervously, I grab onto Rossco’s collar and hold him back as I sluggishly open the door, my hands tightening around the knob from the terror pulsing through my body.
When the door opens fully, the sight in front of me is even more disturbing.
There’s no black vehicle on the other side of the street.
No hooded figure leaning against my tree.
Just a knee-dropping, gorgeous man grinning at me with a pizza box in his hand.
TWO | TARYN
Ipump my legs faster, the chill morning air whipping against the moisture clinging to my face and wetting the strands of hair on my scalp. Inhaling deeper breaths, the earthy aroma of moss and fresh rain fills my senses.
God, it feels good to run. To jog off the alarm that gripped me last night. It’s still lingering under my skin.
After hours of sleep denying me, I concluded that the long drive from Tucson to Washington and the over-exhaustion were to blame. My brain hallucinated those dark phantoms—the one in the SUV and the one leaning against my tree—and I refuse to think otherwise.
Yes, the house is sketchy as hell, but it’s a great neighborhood. A quaint one. Or at least it seems to be, but I guess I can’t judge it that quickly, considering I’ve not been in town for a full twenty-four hours.
After my pizza was delivered by that god of a man, I took it to my room. My gaze kept wandering to the willow tree outside where the figure stood, and I knew I couldn’t sleep unless I put my mind at ease.
I threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed my phone and Rossco for protection, and walked outside with jittery limbs. My pulse raced as the shadows from the branches danced from the breeze as if they were shaking with laughter at my delusion. Thousands of invisible legs tapped against my arms, my skin crawling anxiously. I gradually wandered over to the willow tree, the light from my phone only catching dead grass and weeds on the ground until a little shimmer and pop of color froze me in place. My fingers were cold and white as I grasped Rossco’s leash tighter. I dragged my feet across the dirt and inched closer. His curiosity piqued, his nose examining the object eagerly, while I, on the other hand, wanted to run in the opposite direction.
Sitting upright, in the same spot the hooded phantom stood, was an apple. Its skin was practically perfect and void of imperfections, with a coating the color of freshly drawn blood.
