Painting Sky

To my family, especially my mother, who saw me as a writer when I was just a baby.

To my grandfather, who was great story-teller.

To my brother for the amazing cover art.

And to my boyfriend, who kept asking when I was going to, finally, publish anything.

T
here is something soothing about watching the trees blurring through a car’s window. At the same time, there is also something dramatic about it, like life is passing too fast and you’re missing something. I felt like that right then, sitting in my boyfriend’s car, moving away from the only home I knew.

Growing up is exactly that: feeling like life is going at full speed without being able to grasp the essentiality of it as you leave pieces of yourself scattered along the way.

Cody smiled at me and held my hand while we crossed state borders, but I couldn’t prevent the melancholy at the sight of the welcoming sign announcing a new state. Nothing dramatic happened in my life, which was actually pretty boring. I am quite boring. Maybe that’s why leaving for college was hard.

“Are you excited?” Cody asked, turning the radio down.

I wasn’t exactly excited; I was more worried, sad, and missing my parents and my sister. I wasn’t going to tell my giddy boyfriend I wasn’t eager to live in the same house as him, though. My answer was a noncommittal shrug. I should have felt happy and I should have been looking forward to spending more time with my boyfriend of four years.

The first time I’d met Cody Hale, I’d thought he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen, with his sparkling blue eyes, bright blond hair, and wide smile. He’d approached me through our backyard’s fence and had offered me a daisy. We’d become friends instantly. He had been my first friend in the new town my family had just moved to, and I had been terrified of going to first grade in a place where I didn’t know anyone.

I had always been shy and hadn’t made friends easily. My brother, Ryan, on the other hand, had been as sociable as it got. He’d made me spend ninety percent of my childhood blushing.

Ryan was three years older than me, and, as much as we hated each other like siblings do, we also loved and cared for each other. He wasn’t very pleased with my future living arrangements, even though I was going to be living with him, too. Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t pleased.

Cody and I had grown closer during that summer. Matilda, my sister, had been too young to play with me and Ryan had been too old, so Cody had become my best friend. During the first day of school, he’d introduced me to some of his friends, not caring when some of them had made fun of him for speaking to a girl a year younger than him. He hadn’t minded and, for that, he had been my hero.

Ryan, on the other hand, had treated me as if I had been invisible. In fact, we’d gone to the same school for almost a year before his friends had realized we were related, as we were very different in appearance. I also have to point out that I was never in detention, nor grounded.

To my brother’s friends, it didn’t matter that we shared the same surname—it wasn’t something that crossed a nine year old’s mind. Only one of his friends had known about me; he had been our neighbor and Ryan’s best friend for all these years.

He was also Cody’s older brother.

I had met Keith Hale three days before Cody. My opinion of him was the exact opposite of that of his brother: he’d been annoying, obnoxious, and full of himself. He’d pushed me to the ground that first day, and, even when he’d claimed it had been an accident, I hadn’t believed him. Knowing him now, I know it had been a lie. Even my six year old brain had told me to stay far away from him.

That was my concern: living in a house with a person who hated me.

After we reached the midway mark on our nine hour drive, I finally relaxed and felt stupid for my earlier reaction. I found myself asking the same question for what felt like the millionth time. “Is Keith okay with me going to live in his house?” I fidgeted in my seat while twirling my light brown, wavy hair, with a finger.

“I already answered that question a dozen times. Yes, he is. It’s not like he spends a lot of time at home, and, when he does, it’s usually in his attic creating art, or so he claims.” Cody rolled his eyes, as if to say that art was nonsense. He forgot the subject I’m going to study is art, as well. He’s just like my parents: pragmatic. I tried to see past that, though.

“It’s his house too. Actually, he’s been there for over three years; I don’t want to intrude.” I glanced away, trying to loosen the knot in my stomach, which had been created at the reminder of living with Keith.

On the other hand, I was going to live with Ryan too. I missed spending time with my brother. I would be living with Cody, of course, as well. It had been so hard this past year, with him away in college. He’d tried to come every time he could, but I knew he spent too much money on gas, not to mention time on the road.

When the sign welcoming us to Corvallis appeared on the horizon, I sat straighter in the seat and tried to take everything in. It was similar to my hometown, but it had a more cosmopolitan center. Cody took a detour, so I could see the commercial roads and then the center, where the campus was situated. It was almost as a town of its own. It was similar to some colleges I had visited the previous year, courtesy of my father’s insistency, with its brick buildings and vast lawns.

The house was a twenty minute walk from everything, which worried me. I would depend on Cody or my brother to take me to classes and every other place when the weather wasn’t cooperative enough to walk in.

Cody had prepared me for the house, but my breath caught in my throat when I spotted it.

My boyfriend had described it as a spooky, almost horror movie-style, old, big house. He’d advised me that I wouldn’t like it, but that the interior was quite okay. His description hadn’t been far from the truth. The only difference was that I wasn’t horrified—I was amazed. It was beautiful.

The long dirt road stood within the forest, with trees overshadowing it. Pebbles hit the car here and there as we drove. It opened to a large driveway in which ten or twelve cars could park. The house was in need of a fresh layer of paint, as the dirty dark gray was peeling. Some parts of the roof needed to be replaced and the windows were so dirty that you could write on them.

The garden was completely abandoned: weeds were growing everywhere and the bushes had no particular form or place. The nearest trees were in need of a good pruning and one of them was actually dead.

The oak in front of the house was huge and surpassed the height of the house at three stories. The attic seemed to occupy as much area as the floors under it, and it had huge windows incorporated in the roof.

Near the house, the forest undergrowth was cut short to the ground. As we went farther, however, it seemed to abruptly grow. It also smelled as if it had been freshly cut. How someone could worry about cutting the forest undergrowth and not the garden grass exceeded my comprehension.

“They changed this place. Someone cut the plants,” Cody murmured as he looked around at nothing in particular. “So, what do you think?” He placed one hand on the hood of his car and the other on his waist, which made me smile. I leaned in to meet his lips before answering.

“I love it. I just hope I won’t be eaten by a werewolf on a full moon,” I joked as I looked into the vast forest around the long road I would have to walk, if I wanted to go to town by myself.

He laughed and held my hand, pulling me to the front door. My bags had been forgotten in the car.

The smell hit me as soon as Cody opened the door: tobacco and food, mixed with sweat or dirty laundry. I was suddenly glad my parents hadn’t been able to come with me: they would have regretted their decision as soon as they saw the forest. If that hadn’t been enough, this smell and mess would have done it.

There were dirty dishes and plastic cups on every surface available: tables, sofas, and even on the floor. The hardwood was so beautiful that it pained me to see it dull and dirty. How could someone live like this? The television was on, but it didn’t look like anyone was home. I could hear music blustering from upstairs, though.

“I swear to God, I’ll kill them,” Cody swore under his breath. “I promise we don’t live like this.” He waved around us, disgusted. “We don’t actually live in a dumpster. Of course, we’re guys, but come on—they went beyond inhabitable.”

I wasn’t pleased, but it was funny to see Cody so upset about my opinion.

“I’ll kill you, you son of—” Cody stopped his yelling and looked at me sheepishly. I raised one eyebrow; Cody didn’t use to swear. I guess he’d changed. “Son of our mother,” he continued. “Come down, Jane’s here!”

He showed me my room, which was lovely. Maybe I would think every detail was beautiful, but this room was my favorite, so far. It had two windows, which let in the last sunrays over the hardwood floor. The double bed was bigger than the one at my parents’ house and had green covers—my favorite color. I guess Cody had remembered when he’d bought them for me. A desk was in front of the bed and the wardrobe was next to it. They both looked old, but very well-preserved. The bedroom almost seemed out of place from every other room I’d seen, so far. It was so unlived in and clean that it almost felt sacred.

My light gray eyes were reflected on the mirror on the wall and they were as big as a child’s on Christmas Eve.

“My room is down the hall.” Cody pointed to two doors on the right. Between our rooms were my brother’s bedroom and a bathroom, which I had to share with Ryan—the morning nightmare would start over again. Cody said I could use his, but, for now, it was too personal.

Keith’s room was the closest to mine, but his was on the left and he had his own bathroom. Apparently he hasn’t used it lately, though, by what Cody told me.

“Where does he sleep?” I asked, curious.

“Upstairs.” He nodded at the ceiling before rolling his eyes. “It’s very artistic of him. He only comes down for food, drinks,” he seemed to be looking for the right words, “and girls. Well, sometimes he comes down to talk to us and play some games, but it’s rare.” I had seen at least three different video game consoles downstairs, which would make anyone believe they were gamers.