I held my head up with my palm, gazing out the window at the bleary unfamiliarity of the landscape that flashed before me. Trees dotted the horizon, the sun just beginning to rise, and snow could be briefly seen on leaves and in small patches of golden grass. Though this was beautiful, though this was almost perfect, it was not what I wanted. I had asked for less stress and less anxiety and my parents chose to give me a new home in a large farming state where houses were apparently a mile apart. I had had no say in the matter when we moved here. I heard the typical excuse that there were "plenty of job opportunities" and "beautiful wildlife", but what good did that do when you barely had time to live your own life?

School monopolized my time like the banker with the monocle did in Monopoly, and the only time I had off was when it was time for me to sleep.

I didn't hate my life, but I wasn't feeling my best. Self-esteem issues plagued me like they did any young, hormonal girl and my grades in math were not necessarily the best. No, it's not because of a boy. And no, it's not because of drama. It's just a phase, I always told myself. Just a phase. Someday math would click for me. Sure.

At the moment I was letting myself relax. We would be moving our furniture as soon as the trucks carrying it got to our new house and I would have no break on the weekend to do anything else.

As the drawl about the pros of moving to Ember Heights loudened from my parents, I turned up my music. My head nodded rhythmically along with the words and I closed my eyes, sinking into a deep reverie. I imagined myself somewhere in a snow-covered forest, sitting around a campfire with a couple of old friends, telling stories and stuffing ourselves full of s'mores. I felt an almost microscopic smile graze my lips.

If this was what I wanted out of life, I had low, but wholesome, standards. High school had convinced me that I needed to "shoot for the stars", as they had put it, and that having a small goal was inneffective in the long-run. I, for one, disagreed with them. But then again, I was a moody teenager who disagreed with everything.

My ears were filled with a horrible screeching, like nails on a chalkboard, and I ripped out my headphones. I scowled at how unpleasantly my thoughts had been interrupted, my heart beating frantically from the spontaneousness of the sound, and turned my head to the road. We were just passing an overgrown sign that said Welcome to Ember Heights. Below it was another sign housing a set of rules. It read:

1. Stay out past sunset at your own risk.
2. There will be no witchcraft or paranormal
investigations of any kind in Ember Heights.
3. The woods are never to be entered by anybody, resident or not.

My stomach clenched into knots as we entered the town limits. "Mom, did you see that sign?" I asked, panic edging its way through my voice despite how much I tried to hide it.

"What sign?" She replied, twisting in her seat to meet me. "Was it the speed limit? Nicholas, slow down!" Mom ordered, tapping my father's arm. "It must've been the speed limit."

"It wasn't the speed limit," I drawl, annoyed. "It had ru-"

My mother gasped and gestured to a tall post stuck crookedly in the grass with a piece of metal nailed half heartedly to it. "See there, Nicholas? Forty-five miles per hour. Slow down."

I rolled my eyes and put in my headphones again, half-expecting the screeching noise to continue, but it fortunately didn't. I drifted away into deep thought once more and found my eyelids growing heavier and heavier. By the time I had actually fallen asleep, however, we had pulled up to our new house and had to begin unpacking immediately.

The first sight I got of my home was beautiful. I had expected it to look ancient, but the neighborhood that we lived in was actually modern and normal. The town itself was quite unlike my neighborhood. It was just as I had predicted. Most of the buildings were made out of stone or wood, signs were missing letters, street lamps flickered and there was even a diner that looked as if it had been built it the early twentieth century.

I had resolved to myself that I would not step foot in the town nor in the woods unless I absolutely had to, and if I needed something, I would go to a neighboring city. This town was not something that I needed to mess with.

When my alarm rang that following morning, I grudgingly slid out of bed and hobbled over to my closet to pick out something to wear. Today would be my first day at Wetcherland High and I had to make a good impression.

In my old school I was known as the clumsy, awkward girl who could barely keep a friend and I had to admit it- a fresh start was the only thing that was good about this move.

I hurried out of my bedroom once I had thrown on a comfy black hoodie, a pair of sweatpants and tennis shoes. My almost black brown hair was left down to make a curly mess and contrast deeply to my skin, which was the exact opposite of dark. My eyes were an icy blue that looked as though they were glowing if you caught them in the light, and my mom always said it was a mystery as to who exactly I inherited them from. She assumed it was from my grandma, though I didn't know because she died a few days after I was born, but I really had no reason to believe otherwise.

After practically inhaling my breakfast, I rushed out the door and began my long trudge to school. I had saved up some money for a truck, but I didn't have enough- yet. I was stuck walking to my "Legal Misery Day-Camp" (school) in the cold weather of Montana, not that I minded the snow and the wind. What I minded was how I was walking right on the edge of the woods and my feet were sneakily wandering to the right when my journey to school took me to the left.