A First Time For Everything

Chapter 1 – Holly

I peer up at the dark mansion ahead, towering like the castle of an evil king to the midnight sky. My heart picks up speed, pumping blood through my veins with such force it makes me dizzy.

Crack.

Shoot. Is there someone out here? My head darts to the right, then to the left, as panic surges through my body like an electric shock.

Crack.

“Hello?” I whisper. No one answers. A moment later, a sharp rustling cuts through the silence, seeming almost as loud as a bullhorn to my alert senses. I whirl around only to see a bird leaping away. Out of instinct, my hand finds its way to my heart, as if the touch alone could calm the fierce staccato roaming inside my chest. I’m honestly not made for this kind of stress.

As I near the gates again, I pull out my phone to check the address for the hundredth time. 16, Wilson Street. A shiver runs down my spine as I glance back at the mansion, a large 16 flaunting at the frontage. Why am I doing this again? Ah, yes. Because I’m broke and have nothing better to do in the middle of the night such as laying in my comfy bed and getting a good night’s rest.

Trying to shake off the tension in my shoulders, I grab the iron bars of the gate and pull. A wince jolts through my body when a loud creaking noise disrupts the silence as iron grinds over iron. It's locked. Automatically, my eyes shoot up to the house. Everything remains dark. I wipe the sweat clinging to my palms on my joggers, then grab the iron poles once more before I climb up the massive gate.

Landing on the other side and with a tremor taking possession of my limbs, I continue sneaking closer to the mansion just as the moon reappears from behind a cloud to illuminate the driveway like my personal catwalk. Awesome. Careful not to let the light shower me for too long, I creep from one shadow to the next until I’m in the protective shade the building is casting.

The front door won’t be an option to get in. I might not make the best secret agent, but I know as much as that using the front door never ends well. Pressed against the wall, I wander around the gigantic building, my stomach churning when I can’t find another entrance. Didn’t she say she’d leave a bathroom window open? The only open window I’ve seen so far is on the third floor, and since the gate was a hurdle already, I doubt I’d make it that far. Perhaps I should reconsider being exempted from PE. Heck, perhaps I would if it all wasn’t for my stupid condition.

Desperation grows from a pea into a ball inside my chest as I sneak around the last corner. The ball bursts the second my eyes catch the dark hole in the wall. I reach up, but the tips of my fingers barely even touch the ledge. I don’t have to search long though, until my eyes land on a muddy bucket a few feet away. Once I’ve shoved it right under the window, my hands fumble for anything to get a good hold on and I pull myself up. Sweat forms on my brows, but I keep pushing. After what feels like an eternity, my upper body finally tips over the ledge and drags the other half all the way with it. With a loud thump, I hit the tiles, making pain surge through my hip, but it subsides as quickly as it emerged.

I hold my breath for a moment, listening for any other noises, but again, the house seems dead. I pull the wrinkled paper bag out of my waistband and press it to my chest, hugging the delivery as if it could replace my unease with comfort. The moon just offers enough light for me to take in the room of which I just wiped the floor with my body. A bathroom—exactly like Claire had promised.

I tiptoe across the room and sneak out into the hallway. Without the moonlight from the window, nothing but eerie gloom fills the air. Creeping down the hall, I look out for any clues of where to go, but of course, there aren’t any. It’s not like Claire would put up neon signs that tell me THIS WAY.

I take a few more steps until my foot suddenly kicks against something hard, making me topple over. My hand shoots up to grab for anything that would prevent me from falling, eventually finding hold by slapping the wall. Pain explodes in my little toe, but I press my lips together before the cusswords can leave my mouth. If my near-fall hasn’t woken up anyone yet, then swearing definitely would. Instead, I press my fist against my mouth, screaming silently into the hollow as I slip through the next best door.

The moonlight shines through the large windows, illuminating a stove and a fridge. With trembling fingers, I put the paper bag down on the kitchen counter to regain some degree of control over my stiff body. Nope, becoming a hired burglar is definitely off my list of possible career paths. But it doesn’t matter how I feel—I still have to deliver the bag. But what now? I have no clue where Claire’s room is, and considering my incredible sneaking talents, I’m not keen on looking in every corner. I should text her I’m here.

The moment I reach for my phone in my pocket, a creaking noise echoes through the mansion, not in the kitchen, but close by. Dammit. My gaze darts around the room to find a hiding spot but I’m out of luck. The only thing remotely close to a hideout is under the table. Amazing, sure, but better than nothing. I’m almost at the table when the door flies open, followed by a clicking sound. Only a heartbeat later, blinding light floods the room and I squint my eyes shut against the sting. Is this the moment where I see all my memories of the past fly by before I die?

“What are you doing here?” a deep voice rumbles.

I take a step back, blinking several times until my eyes adjust to the light. At the other end of the room stands a boy about my age, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. And not just any boy—Griffin McIrvin, of all people. My eyes widen as the gears in my brain try to come up with an explanation, one more ludicrous than the other. Is he… no. That can’t be.

I look up at him for a moment. I cannot help but be as stunned as always about how much he’s changed. He’s only wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his dark hair rumpled as if he rolled straight out of bed. Which he probably did, considering it’s in the middle of the night.

“I… uhm,” I stammer, shifting under the intensity of his stare. I’m good at being invisible. If you asked anyone at school about me, they’d most likely say, “Holly who?”

“Wait... Holly?” he suddenly asks.

My eyes shoot up at the sound of my name, torn and off-guard that he recognized me. Sure, we have a history and are in the same grade at Clifton High, but it’s not like we talk. Ever. Not once in eight years.

He’s still staring at me, and I realize I haven’t even given him an answer to his question about what I’m doing here.

“Are you Claire’s boyfriend? Or in with her on that?” I ask instead of answering, pointing at the delivery I’m supposed to make, sitting on the kitchen counter. It would be the only plausible explanation for why he’s in her house. His eyebrows shoot up at my question, his face contorted with confusion.

“Claire? No. Why would I—”

A loud ping of my phone cuts Griffin short. Oh darn, I knew I forgot something before I broke in. I reach for my phone anyway, praying silently that it’s Claire with a more than good explanation. It’s her. But the explanation is anything but good.

Claire Bashan

Sry, mistyped. It’s number 17!!! Come to the balcony.

0:33 am

In a daze, I walk over to the window right as a light turns on in the house next door. Then someone steps out onto the balcony. Even in the dim light, I have no is issue recognizing Claire’s distinctive silhouette.

“Oh, no,” the realization comes over my lips in a sigh. Steps sound behind me, and before I can turn around, Griffin is standing right next to me, his gaze fixated on Claire as his arm slightly touches mine. Instinctively, I take a step to the side to bring some distance between us.

“Wait…,” he says as he turns around to face me, his confusion giving room for an amused grin. “Did you just break into the wrong house?”

“No! I mean… yes.” I close my eyes for a moment as if that could help me sort out the mêlée of thoughts in my head. Another creaking noise from the hallway hits my ears and immediately my senses fall back into panic mode. If his parents catch me, I’ll be done for. Thanks to my black clothes and my expression drenched in guilt, there is no doubt that I didn’t come by for a cup of tea and some nice chitchat.

“Relax. Nobody else is home,” Griffin says as he must have noticed my gaze shooting towards the door. “It’s probably just my cat.”

I release a shaky breath as Griffin walks over to the cupboard, grabs a glass, and fills it with water before waiving it in my direction. “You want anything?”

I shake my head, not trusting my voice yet. He only shrugs at my answer and gulps the water down as if he’s about to die of thirst. I’m not sure if Griffin’s only putting on a show, but if yes, he’s excellent at acting like finding burglars in his kitchen is absolutely normal. “You know, maybe I should just…,” I mumble, making gestures to the window in Claire’s direction.

“Break into the right house this time?” he finishes my sentence as another teasing smile appears on his face. Hilarious.

I say nothing as I grab the paper bag and take a step towards the door. Before I can make it any farther, though, Griffin clears his throat. “Oh, and you can use the front door this time instead of the window.”

“How did you…”

“Our burglar alarm clicked on the second you climbed the gate. I considered calling the cops,” he answers my unfinished question before he takes another sip from his water. “But then you almost fell over the gate and stomped to the house. It was quite entertaining to watch.”

Great. I completely made a fool of myself in every way possible. I fight the urge to curl myself into a ball along the lines of ‘if I can’t see him, he can’t see me either.’ No, I’ve brought this upon myself.

“Sorry. For the trouble, I mean,” I mumble. “I’ll go then.”

I’m almost at the doorstep when his voice cuts through the disconcerting silence once more. “Oh, one more thing. I’ll delete the security tape. Don’t worry, no one else will ever know.”

My eyebrows draw together as I turn around to look at him. I’m not trusting his word and even less the smile he’s flashing me again. He’s enjoying this situation way too much to be serious about this. About his parents, maybe, but I don’t believe that he won’t tell anyone at school. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It’s not like we’re friends anymore. He doesn’t owe me anything. And, to be fair, this story will spread like wildfire.

“Thanks,” I say, despite my conflicted feelings. I face the door again, and finally, I make it outside without him holding me back again. The gate is still wet and slippery when I climb over it, but I couldn’t care less right now. I even would’ve walked on lava if that meant I could bring more distance between that house and me.

Claire’s house is another mansion; however, a little less terrifying than the one I just fled from. A dense fence of bushes surrounds the property. There’s also a gate, but I lost my adventurous enthusiasm for climbing by almost breaking my neck thanks to the one next door. I spot a clearer patch in between the bushes and shield my face with my arms as I squeeze myself between the scratchy twigs.

The tiny hairs on my back shoot upright. Either I’m getting paranoid or.… Nope, not paranoid, just Griffin still standing at the window, watching me with the glass of water in his hand. Just great.

I try to ignore Griffin as I keep walking over to where the balcony towers above me. It’s up on the third floor. I’m not sure if Claire expects me to toss the bag all the way up, but if so, she overestimated my abilities by far. Before I can give it another thought, though, Claire leans over the railing with a cigarette in her hand. “Being grounded sucks. Do you have the bag?” she whisper-shouts down at me. I never understood how a college student manages to get grounded, but—it’s Claire. The word trouble was practically invented for her.

I nod, then I realize she can’t see that in the darkness. “Yeah,” I whisper-shout back.

“Wait a sec.” A moment later, she reappears to let down a basket on several strands of yarn. When it’s at my height, I put the paper bag inside and grab the envelope sitting there in exchange. I watch as she pulls the basket up before I peek into the envelope to make sure it’s the sum we agreed on. The basket vanishes over the ledge before Claire leans over the railing again.

“Did you look inside?” she asks.

“No.” Though if I looked inside, I wouldn’t be that naïve to tell her.

“Perfect. Use the same way out,” she says, then her upper body disappears. A moment later, the light turns off, leaving me in darkness again. I don’t hesitate another second to do what she said. I squeeze myself through the bushes again, take my hidden bike, and go home without looking back once.

Chapter 2 – Holly

“Jonah, hurry up! I’m gonna pee in the kitchen sink if I can’t—”

A loud bang echoes through the house as the bathroom door crashes against the wall, and then another bang as the door closes again. My eyes dart to the alarm clock on my nightstand. My brain needs a second to process the numbers, but when it does, I jolt up in an instant. I’ve never overslept in my entire life before. Dammit.

I jump out of bed only to instantly yearn for the warm comfort again as my teeth chatter from the icy wind sweeping through the open window. I must have forgotten to close it after my nightly adventure. I close it before I change inside my room, as it’s useless to fight for the bathroom now that my brothers are awake. It’s not my little twin brothers who take up all the time, but Henry who never gets a move on. If I didn’t know any better, I would easily believe that he takes another nap in the shower. Boys.

As I twirl my hair into a bun on top of my head, I hurry down the stairs right into the empty kitchen and stuff slices of bread into the toaster. As always, Dad’s already gone to work. If I wouldn’t take it upon myself to prepare lunch for the three monsters, nobody else would. A few minutes later, the horror twins enter the kitchen and bustle about as they collect bowls, spoons, and cereal.

“Good Mooooooring,” Cody yells right next to me, well aware that my noise tolerance is next to non-existent in the morning. He does that every day though, just to annoy me. So, I gladly return the favor and always put an extra layer of the mustard he hates on his sandwich. In the morning, I definitely prefer his less noisy counterpart. Jonah is like the exact opposite, the levelheaded one compared to his whirlwind copy. I wish I could say that’s always true, but I guess it’s only the morning blues keeping him quiet. Throughout the day, they are both unbearable. Not that I should expect anything less from thirteen-year-old pubescents.

Just as I wash up the used cutlery, another almost sleepwalking grinch enters the kitchen. Henry's seventeen and the family’s artsy genius. Almost every wall in this house is plastered with his artworks. One of Dad’s colleagues even asked from which painter they are. The only sibling left that won’t join us is our older brother Anton. He left for college two years ago and only shows his face during holidays, always saying he misses us, but I secretly think it’s the free laundry and food that wins him over.

We leave the house ten minutes later and squeeze into my small Honda. As I turn onto the highway, it’s as if I flicked a switch as everyone turns deadly silent. If it wasn’t for me seeing the rising and lowering of Henry’s chest out of the corner of my eye, I'd suspect they're even holding their breaths. I got my driver’s license two years ago, and I remember how proud I felt having the proof printed on paper. That was until I started driving my family around. They weren’t subtle when hinting at how bad they thought I was and told me I desperately needed to practice more. And I did. Their opinion never changed, though.