Finding Fae
Same Old Story

I was sulking. There was no denying it, especially after the last three days straight of silent driving. Dad had tried to start up a conversation several times, but all he ever managed to get were a few terse and slightly bitter syllables. Score one for teen angst, I guess.

We had crossed several state lines since leaving the last place and I knew we were getting close, since Dad kept checking the map he had bought at the last gas station. It was as annoying as ever, too. Nearly eighteen years of packing up what few things we had and trekking to another new place, and I still had no clue why.

I had hoped that New Hampshire had been the end of the constant moving. We had been there for nearly eight months, which was significantly more than the typical three to six we managed for as long as I can remember. I had friends, despite the rules, I even had a date to the Winter Ball that was supposed to happen this weekend.

Texas was a far cry from New Hampshire in any season, but it was currently winter. I, for one, wasn’t going to miss the stupid amount of snow. Hell, any snow was a bad thing, in my opinion. Ice, I could deal with. Rain was a plus. But snow? Hard pass.

Weather aside, I missed New Hampshire. Not the house, which was one small step away from condemned, or the food. There was only so much seafood you could handle before it just made you want to vomit just thinking about anything that came from the water. I missed my friends. Not that I had many of them. There were rules against that kind of thing.

Don’t draw attention. Don’t make friends. Stay unnoticed. Never, under any circumstance, kiss a boy. The one time I broke that one ended up a complete disaster and I got the scolding of a lifetime as we packed up and left that night. I mean, what normal teenager goes through their entire high school years without so much as a peck on the cheek?

Me. Fae Matthews. Or was it Smith? Polk? I don’t even remember what my actual last name was. I didn’t even bother trying to figure out if I even had a middle name, let alone what it was. I’d end up with a new one in a few hours anyhow.

The old Jeep stopped in front of a house and I looked out the windshield. As far as our normal dwellings went, this one wasn’t terrible. It was two stories and looked old, but not ancient. The nondescript paint was peeling and the faux shutters were missing rungs, hanging off the house, or just plain missing. There was a screened in porch with a screened door that had seen better days and looked a little crooked. It was still a total hole, but it wasn’t as bad as some of the other places we’d been in.

“Home sweet home,” Dad said as he turned off the engine.

“We don’t do “home”, Dad,” I said and got out, dragging my suitcase and duffle bag from the back seat.

“Fae,” he sighed as I slammed the door and stalked towards the front door.

It may be Texas, which was a lot warmer than New England, but it was winter. It was cold, but not cold enough to freeze, thank God. It was also raining a bit, kind of like a fine mist with the occasional true rain drop mixed in for funsies. Which made me wonder if the electricity had been turned on yet. It was unlikely, but a girl could hope, right?

The front door was locked, but it was barely hanging on the hinges. A good lift and hard hit with the hip, and it popped right open. My ears screamed at the heinous screeching of the neglected hinges as it swung open.

“Well, that’s first on the list of repairs,” Dad said as he propped the haphazard screen open to keep it from falling off completely as we made trips to the Jeep.

The inside of the house was... in shambles. If it was ever listed on the market, the agent would likely say it “had good bones”, which was code for “not quite a toilet, but close enough”. The hardwood floors had seen far better days, but we’re still in decent enough shape. At least, not rotting, as far as I could tell. The tacky wallpaper was stained and peeling, the ceiling had stains, meaning at some point there had been water upstairs. Hopefully, it wasn’t a leaking roof. I really didn’t want to deal with that pain in the rear again. A few of the windows in the back of the house were boarded up with missing glass.

“Smells wonderful,” I rolled my eyes and dropped my bags in the middle of the living room.

“Yeah, we’ll have to find whatever decided to die and get rid of it,” Dad agreed. “At least it’s not summer. Imagine that kind of reek, huh?”

I just rolled my eyes and went back to the Jeep for another bag while Dad grabbed the tool box. Thankfully, it was still morning, so we had time to at least get the front door fixed. I tested the sliding door that lead out back and found it stuck with only a few inches of give. For now, that was secure, so it could wait.

“Here, cupcake,” Dad said and handed me a package of lightbulbs. “The power is on, but none of the lights are coming on and the heater isn’t working. See if you can find the breakers and I’ll work on the door.”

First thing was checking the main breakers outside. Once I was sure they were working, I went through the house, flipping on switches in hopes at least one lightbulb was working. Hell, not even the stove turned on. Disheartening, but whatever. I found the inside breakers and found the main was tripped. I flipped it and heard Dad cheer. Still, I checked the others before going around and replacing the burned out lights.

Dad closed up the tool box, happy enough with the door for the time being, and smiled at me. I just huffed and grabbed my bags before going upstairs to claim a room. I still wasn’t happy about any of this.

I picked my room and Dad soon came up with a folder in his hand.

“You start school tomorrow. Your schedule and books will need to be picked up from the office, so I’ll need to drop you off a little early,” he said. “I’ll pick up some furniture while your getting your education.”

“You could just get me a car and you won’t have to drive me everywhere,” I said.

“We already talked about this, Fae,” he pinched the bridge of his nose as I opened the file that was my new life.

Fae Young. Seventeen year old. Five feet and eight inches tall, one hundred thirty pounds, brown hair, dark gray eyes, academically average. Moved from Oregon when her father, Gary Young, was unable to find work.

“Look, why don’t you find out where that smell is coming from then have a shower,” he said, trying to avoid another fight, which always happened when we moved yet again. “I’ll see if I can’t find some decent take out for lunch and grab something for dinner tonight. Any opinions?”

“Anything but seafood,” I muttered as I went through the finer details of my new identity.

New house, new school, new identity, same old story.

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