Episode 1

“Feliz navidad, feliz navidad, feliz navidad, prospero año y felicidad.”

I roll my eyes and look out the window. Yeah, this Christmas was going to be amazing and I say that sarcastically. There is absoloutly no way this Christmas will even be good, let alone amazing.

Anita bounces on the seat next to me, her little feet tapping to the music. I reach over and smash the power button and the music stops. Anita stares up at me with her wide brown eyes, her mouth quivering.

“Hannah,” Dad says without looking away from the road. “Turn the music back on.”

“It’s a stupid Christmas song that’s getting annoying,” I argue.

“I want to hear the rest of it!” Anita protests.

“Shut up,” I snap at her. “You don’t get a say in this.”

“Hannah May,” Dad warns, his voice hard.

“Fine,” I mutter. I push the button with a little more force than necessary and the music starts back up again. Anita instantly starts dancing to it and I feel like jumping out of the moving vehicle.

You might be wondering what my problem is. My problem, well… it’s moving. It’s the day after Thanksgiving and we’re moving to the middle of nowhere in North Carolina. Just weeks before Christmas and my parent’s are doing this to me.

The song switches to Jingle Bells and Anita starts to sing along in her high, little kid voice. Sighing, I slam my head back against the headrest.

“We’re almost there,” Dad says, sensing my frustration.

Anita stops to singing to ask a question. “How long?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes,” he says.

At least we’ll be there soon. Fifteen minutes seems like nothing compared to twelve hours.

Nichole: How r u doing

Hannah: Almost there

Nichole: cool call me when u can

Hannah: will do

“Do you think it’ll snow?” Anita asks, scooting forward in her seat.

“No,” I answer, slipping my phone back into my jacket pocket. “It’s North Carolina, not

New York. If it does snow, it’ll melt pretty fast.”

“When I lived here, we just got a lot of ice,” Dad says. He made a turn to the left and continued. “Did I tell you I used to live here when I was younger?”

Yes, a thousand times. I want to say but I know he won’t appreciate it.

“Yes,” Anita answers for me. “Over and over again.”

“I loved this place. So will you,” he smiles.

Anita giggles like a little kid at Christmas and wiggles in her seat. “I can’t wait!”

I look out my window and begin to think. It’s not okay that my parents can just uproot the whole family at a moment’s notice and move to the bottom of the United States. I had a life in New York, friends, school, I had it all. But I guess that means nothing to them.

Dad slowly applies the brakes and turns into a gravel driveway. The house before me is amazing. It’s set back off the road, surrounded by woods on two sides. The grey-blue color of the siding is a soothing color, instantly welcoming me. Past the woods behind it, I see a few black and brown cows grazing and a smile spreads across my face.

This could be okay.

It’s a two story house with a front porch that’s the length of the front of the house and a back porch that’s about twenty feet off the ground that wraps around the side and back of the house. Perfect white railings wrap around the front porch, a sturdy oak door, and a log bench off to the left of the door.

“It feels like home,” I whisper.

I jump out of the moving van and walk up the stone pathway that leads to the front porch but stop before stepping up. I reach out and touch the railing. A sensation goes through me. Home.

“A lot has changed,” Dad says, walking up next to me. “But it still feels like home. What’cha think?”

I think for a minute, still smiling. “I like it. It feels… right.”

“Good,” he nods and steps up onto the porch. Sliding his key into the lock, he pushes the door open and motions for me to enter.

I slip my shoes off before I step inside. The first thing I see is the stairway that leads up to the second floor. There are four steps, a landing, and then the stairs take a turn to the right, and led up, out of my sight. I feel coldness slipping through my socks and look down to see a white stone tile. It’s cracked in a few places, adding even more beauty to the foyer.

“Go look upstairs,” Dad says, propping the door open. “You room is the first one on the left.”

I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Where all this joy and happiness came from, I have no clue, but I am very excited. I open the white door and survey the room. White carpet, two windows, pink walls, and a dormer. It’s bigger than any room we had back in New York!

“Wow.”

I reverently enter and stand in the middle of the room. It’s so pretty. The room seems so light and cheery as the sun filters through the windows. I laugh out loud and pull my phone out from my pocket. Opening the camera, I snap a few pictures of the room and send them to Nichole. I run back down the stairs and outside to take more pictures of the house.

Nichole: That’s beautiful!

Hannah: I know!!!! I love it!

Nichole: What’s not to love about it? It’s giant and magnificent.

Hannah: :D Gotta go, ttyl

Nichole: TTYL

I slide my phone into my back pocket and jogged back into the house. Anita was standing in the middle of the foyer, arms wrapped around her stuffed teddy bear, smiling.

“Isn’t it nice?” she asks, her voice full of wonder and amazement.

I nod. “Yes, it’s…”

Someone knocks on the door frame and we turn around to see a boy about my age, dark hair meticulously messy as if he had spent hours getting each spike in place. His caramel eyes meet mine and they shine brightly with recognization.

“Almost perfect,” I say, the smile fading from my face.

“Hey, Hannah,” he says, nodding at me. “Mind if I come in?”

“Who is he?” Anita whispers.

“Jax Walker, the devil himself,” I growl. Instinctively, I pull Anita closer to my side.

“It’s nice to see you too,” he smiles his annoying smile.