One hurting girl. Thirteen boys. A story unlike any other.
Something about the Heathens
CHAPTER
1
(Windlow)
The car ride was silent, probably the only sound of the sports channel on the radio playing softly. The hosts were talking about how this years baseball season was sure to be a ringer this year, for this summer was the hottest there had been in years. Names of baseball players were said, then how many home runs they hit, how many seasons they helped their team, etc.
Bored, stormy blue, wandering, eyes watched as scenery passed by, birds flying from tree to tree. The grass that was green in spring was now slowly turning a light brown, slowly dying. Red, white, and blue flowers seemed to bloom, despite the harsh conditions that were now coming. It seemed ironic that red, white, and blue flowers would be blooming, when it was only a few more weeks ‘til the Fourth of July.
A slightly tanned hand reached up to the window, pressing itself against the glass, feeling the warm touch it brought to the owner’s skin.
“Kamillia, please refrain from touching the glass.”
The hand pulled back from the window, resting back on the lap of a fourteen-year-old girl, who moved her stormy blue eyes to the driver up front. Hair so black it looked almost like blue was cut short, like a boy’s, and left in a heap, like she hadn’t done it and woke up like that. The collar of a white shirt could be seen peeking out from underneath the dark black hoodie she wore, like she was trying to hide herself from society and the world.
“I know you don’t want to go to Windlow, since you’ll be leaving Chesterhill behind.”
“You’re right,” she responded, her voice quiet. “I don’t.”
There was a sigh, evergreen eyes looking at her in the review mirror, a frown plastered on the man’s lips. “Just give it a try, Kamillia,” he said. “You might like it.” His eyes went back down to the road, his hands pressed firmly on the steering wheel.
“What makes you think Windlow will be any different from Chesterhill? Or from Victorwellow?”
“I’m not saying it’ll be any different. I’m just saying that it might be good for a change of scenery and maybe to get away from the city life for a while.”
“And you think the Heathens are the perfect choice?”
“They volunteered, Kamillia.”
“Still.”
The man ignored her, instead saying, “You’ll like the Heathens. They have thirteen boys, all of who are wonderfully nice.”
“I don’t care if they’re wonderfully nice boys,” Kamillia retorted. “I just don’t want to be there all together.”
“Just give it a try, Kamillia,” the man said, sighing once again. “We’re almost there already. We can’t make a U-turn and go back to Chesterhill.”
Kamillia went silent, listening to the man’s rambles as he explained why he couldn’t turn back and go back to Chesterhill. Instead, she turned back to look outside the window just as the town Windlow came into view, spires seen from several churches.
The car made its way down the winding road, passing a sign that said:
Welcome to Windlow! ~ Population: 1, 200 ~
The car drove past the sign, rolling into town, causing people who were strolling the sidewalks to look over at them with curiosity. Shops, bakeries, and stores were passed by in a blur, swirling all of them together. Kids on skateboards, scooters, and roller-blades passed by the car, casting looks at the car before shouting at their friends.
Kamillia looked back to her driver just as the car made its way into a neighborhood, pulling to a stop before a medium sized two-story house. Thirteen boys and a brown-haired man, who looked to be in his late-thirties to early-forties, all stood on the lawn, a couple of the boys playing around with each other.
Her driver unbuckled himself, getting out of the car and walking around it to walk up to the brown-haired man, the two shaking hands. The two spoke for a few moments, then looked to Kamillia, who had begun to just get out of the car, stretching her numb legs.
“Kamillia,” her driver said, smiling wide, “this is John Heathens and his sons, who you’ll be staying with for the next year.”
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