Only When It Rains

Anna stepped out of the car and pushed the door shut. She turned and looked at the house on top of the hill, then turned back with the hope that there would at least be a friendly smile to wish her luck on this new journey. She knew that this was too much to hope for and such was confirmed as she saw the car pulling away, towards the horizon without so much as a second glance.

The wrought iron gate stood in front of her looking cold and unfeeling as the wind blew lightly, pushing the wisps of her mousy brown hair into her face. Clouds gathered overhead and tiny droplets of water hit her face as the wind picked up. She grabbed a gray sweatshirt from her bag and pulled it over her head; it hung on her thin frame. She pulled the band from around her wrist and absentmindedly wound her hair into a braid. As she did this, the idea briefly passed through her mind that she had two choices at this point: either go through the gate to a dark unknown, or take off to who knew where. She moved towards the gate with her bags in hand, opting for the possibility of happiness, however small. To her surprise, the gate opened with minor resistance and a whining screech of metal on metal.

“Hey,” a boy called out, startling her. She turned around to see a boy jogging toward her. He had a solid, muscular build that made him look like an athlete, she thought like the football players at her last school. His short blond hair and strong, square jaw added to the athletic appearance. His nose was crooked as if it had been broken and never properly set. Everything about him made him look like a stereotypical jock, but when she saw his ocean-blue eyes they seemed understanding. “You movin’ in here?” he asked as he reached her.

“Uh… Yeah,” Anna began brilliantly. “Do you live around here?”

He pointed to a large house, a ways down the street but the first one beside the old Victorian. “Guess we’re neighbors now. I’m Reed,” he said as he extended his hand.

“Anna,” she said, reaching out awkwardly to shake his hand. It felt cold against the heat of her skin and his grip was firm. She suddenly became aware of the fact that her palms were sweaty. She looked up to see him gazing at her as if with that look he could see right through her. She thought, for a moment, that she had seen a wave of understanding pass over his face but when she blinked it was gone. She suddenly felt self-conscious. “I’d better go.” 

“Yeah, big storm’s coming,” he said, smirking as Anna turned and began walking away. 

Anna began her ascent up the long driveway, atop of which sat the large Victorian house that appeared to have had its heyday about a hundred years ago. The paint was peeling and she could see some of the wood rotting out. The sheer enormity of it struck her.

“Wow,” she muttered to herself, “imagine what you must have looked like back in the glory days.”

The low rumbling of thunder sounded and suddenly the drizzle became a downpour. The rain washed relaxation and calm over her. She loved everything about storms; the way the thunder shook the earth, the feeling of each droplet as it touched her skin. Above all, she loved lightning. She had vague memories of a place from her past where she would go to watch the lightning dart across the land as if playing a game of catch me if you can. She couldn’t remember where or when she had done this, but it was the oldest memory she had. Perhaps her mother had taken her there before things got bad. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the rain hitting her face, collecting strength for what lay behind the huge, wooden door.

“What are you doing?” someone scoffed, breaking Anna’s reverie. She saw a flash of red hair on a girl about her age standing in the doorway. “Mrs. Bohnfeld, she’s here!” The girl turned and called to the other room as she walked out of sight. A few moments later, the woman appeared.

“You must be Miss Thorne. I am Mrs. Bohnfeld,” the woman said through a thick Irish accent. Anna examined the round woman who was reminiscent of a tired mother. Plump, rosy cheeks surrounded Mrs. Bohnfeld’s kind eyes and wisps of her brown-gray hair fell in her face as they escaped the loose bun sitting atop her head. “Come in, come in. You’ll catch a nasty chill out there.”

Anna silently obeyed, picking up her bags and bringing them inside. The foyer of the big house was brightly lit and extravagantly decorated. She had by now learned all entryways had a manner of boasting to visitors. Straight ahead was a staircase and when Anna looked up she saw several girls her age looking down at her over the railing. To the left of the stairs was a narrow hallway lit with ornate sconces that cast a soft yellow glow about everything. The house was warm; she hadn’t realized she was cold until she began to shiver.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Bohnfeld began, “let’s get you warm and dry. I’m sure you’re hungry as well.”

“Yes, thanks,” Anna replied dazedly as she followed the woman down the hallway. The house felt incredibly old, as if time had simply forgotten to come back and modernize the wallpaper, upholstery, everything. An enticing aroma filled her nose, telling Anna that dinner was underway.

As she followed Mrs. Bohnfeld down the hallway, doors popped open to reveal little girls’ faces giggling and slamming the door as Anna looked at them. “Don’t mind them,” Mrs. Bohnfeld assured her, “they’re jus’ curious is all.” The hallway finally ended, leaving them standing in a large dining room. The more she saw of the house, the more Anna felt as though she had stepped back in time; the house was so old and every fixture in it made it Anna feel like she was watching an old movie. Mrs. Bohnfeld instructed Anna to wait there while she went and spoke with someone; she hadn’t caught the name but was certain it was the woman who ran this place. 

She stood silently, trying to take in every detail from the crown moldings to the rug. The walls had rich wooden panels coming up about halfway and then smooth, bluish striped wallpaper. Very Victorian indeed, she thought. She walked over to a wall and ran her fingers over it absentmindedly, circling the entire room. Anna quickly turned around as she heard a door creak open to see a thin older woman who appeared to be Mrs. Bohnfeld’s exact opposite. Thin and gray with a protruding nose, the woman looked almost like the stereotype of a witch. “Good evening Miss Thorne, we’ve been expecting you. You may call me Mrs. Burnside.”

Anna gave a small curtsy, “Pleasure to meet you ma’am.”

Mrs. Burnside looked behind Anna and motioned for someone unseen to come forward. “Anna, this is Ashleigh Whitmore.” It was the girl from the front door. Up close She looked small and thin, but her features were sharp and distinct. Her curly red hair hung around her head in a way that reminded Anna of a cloud. “She will show you to your room; you will be sharing it with she and Bridget York. Go get changed into something dry and come back down for dinner. Ashleigh, I trust you to teach her the rules around here.”

“Of course, Mrs. Burnside,” Ashleigh obliged in a honey-sweet voice that Anna thought had been laid on a bit too thick. Mrs. Burnside then turned and walked out of the room. She raised one well-shaped eyebrow sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. “So yeah,” Ashleigh began, “Like she said, I’m Ashleigh. It’s not so bad here once you get used to Burnside’s rules… or find ways around them.” She smirked devilishly as she said this and led Anna back through the hallway and up the staircase. At the top of the stairs they turned left and entered a small room with a bunk bed on one side of the room and a regular twin on the other. “Et voila!” Ashleigh gestured to the small room, “Home sweet home.” 

There was a desk against the wall on the far side of the room covered in books and a small lamp. A head peeked out from the top bunk and proceeded to climb down and greet them. Standing in front of Anna was a curvy body complete with wavy blonde hair and deep hazel eyes. “I’m Bridget York,” she announced, looking Anna up and down, assessing her looks. “I think you’ll fit in here just fine if you follow our lead.”

Ashleigh giggled and said sarcastically, “Don’t be too modest or anything, Bridge. You’ll be here,” she gestured to the bottom bunk.

Anna hauled her bag over and slid it beneath the bed. So far, she felt like she had these girls pegged, she’d met loads of them before. The mean girls, the queen bees. If she could get in with them this would be easy. She had never fit in anywhere; she’d always been the new girl. But then again, she thought, she had never really stayed long enough in one place to be able to make friends. With her dad’s job, they moved around a lot, especially after her mom died. Finally, he decided that sending her to a boarding school would be the best way to give her some consistency and “put down roots” as he liked to say. And here she was, at the Burnside School for Girls and it was here that she would stay until she finished school, another three years.

Dinner passed uneventfully and she felt the familiar judgment of eyes on her face, quickly averting their gaze when she looked up. Ashleigh and Bridget ignored all the stares and were carrying on an animated conversation about boys. “What?” Anna asked, having heard the name Reed mentioned, “Who are you guys talking about?”

Bridget looked over at her; thrilled that Anna had snapped out of it and was taking part in their gossip. “Reed,” she said excitedly, “he lives next door. He’s a little odd but he has two very cute older brothers.”

“I met him today, actually,” Anna contributed. “Reed ,I mean. He introduced himself as I was coming up the driveway.”

“Wow, he’s usually so quiet, I don’t know that I’ve ever heard him have a full conversation,” Ashleigh replied, momentarily in awe. Moving on to the next topic as if this bit of information had been merely a blip on her radar, “Hey Bridge, do you know what you’re doing for your next art project yet?” With that, the conversation took off again and Anna allowed herself to zone out. 

After dinner the three of them went back up to their room. “Sorry,” Ashleigh apologized, “Weeknights are usually pretty tame; we have a paper due tomorrow, too.”

“We usually wait until Friday night to go wild,” Bridget said mischievously.

“Oh, no problem,” Anna reassured, “It’s nice to have some time to relax.” She picked up one of the magazines strewn across the floor and began to page through the articles about celebrity this and scandal that as the other two went to work.

She woke up hours later to see that Ashleigh and Bridget were both asleep. Moonlight left a glowing shadow on the floor and Anna crawled out of bed to take a look out the window. The moon was obscured by the thin veil of clouds that still hung over the sky from the storm. From the window, she could see a big, spindly oak tree that looked menacingly spooky in the moonlight. Anna could make out a shadowy figure walking toward the tree, for some reason she couldn’t identify, she was almost sure it was Reed. At that moment, she was overtaken by the need for fresh air and an escape from this house. Sure, Ashleigh and Bridget seemed nice enough, but Anna had probably said as many words in the last month as those two had just at dinner. Sliding her feet into her shoes and letting out the braid, she moved silently toward the door, tiptoeing to avoid discarded clothes and magazines. Carefully and quietly, she made her way down the stairs and out the front door, which she shut behind her.

The night was breezy after the earlier storm and she breathed deeply the scent of fresh earth, that scent that only comes after rainfall. Anna thought she would sit on the porch for a while, but the presence of the house was too large; she needed space. Rounding the side of the house she soon found herself walking towards the tree she had seen from the window. Her instincts had been correct and below the tree she found Reed sitting, facing the space between the two houses. Without turning his head he called out quietly: “Fancy meeting you here.”

Somehow she wasn’t surprised that he had known she was there. “You come here often?” she asked, knowing how cheesy the line sounded and feeling equal parts embarrassment and confidence.

“Only when it rains,” he said with a smirk, speaking to the stars themselves, “only when it rains.”