It was seventy degrees in Portland as my father pulled the last of our belongings from the trailer of his semi-truck. He was glowing like he'd just won the lottery, but the fake smiles I had been wearing all day were beginning to shrivel. I knew how much this move meant to him and to his career, but I was never one for suburbs or big cities. And Portland happens to be the largest city in Oregon.

I would miss the peaceful Langley, Washington. I loved the quiet. I enjoyed the moonlit starry nights and the perfect temperatures year-round. But this was for Dad. He'd spent the last seventeen years providing for me and raising me entirely on his own (not including the occasional help from a babysitter while he was working). Who was I to stop him from doing something that would make him happy?

"This is the last of it, Evelyn!" my father chirped.

He had a substantial childlike grin on his face that reached his restless eyes. He would have made the four and a half hour drive here without so much as a restroom break if I hadn't pestered him to stop for a snack and a pee. He was acquainted with the long drives though, as he's been a truck driver on-and-off for seven years now. I am the reason for the "offs." I was young when he first started, and he hated leaving me with a sitter for two to three weeks at a time while he was working.

He would quit his job for that reason, but as soon as we would start hurting for money again, the process would restart. Even when I became a teenager, I tried to convince him I would be fine if he left me home alone, but he wouldn't allow it. Alas, I was seventeen with a babysitter, and I absolutely hated it. Now that I am a senior in high school, I was finally able to convince him I'm old enough to take care of myself while he's on his trips. So, here we are- in a larger city, with more job opportunities for truck drivers. He likes to think of it as his new beginning.

With the help of a local moving company, we completely furnished the new house in less than two hours. I carried the smaller stuff while Dad and three other men hauled the more heavy furniture inside. I kept it to myself, but seeing our old furniture lounging in this unknown place really didn't sit right with me.

I'd already unpacked and got settled into my bedroom before nightfall. My bedroom was on the left side of a short hallway while Dad's was on the right. Our rooms looked exactly the same- mostly empty besides our beds and nightstands, sandy wallpaper on the walls, floors made of timber and lofty white ceilings. Nothing special, but still not terrible.

When the day was done, I collapsed on my bed. I ran my fingers through my frazzled hair and let out a dramatic sigh.

"Eve! Come to the kitchen please," my father shouted.

I didn't move for a few seconds but eventually got up. As soon as I stepped into the hallway from my bedroom, the savory smell of food hit me in the face. It wasn't until then that I realized how hungry I was.

"What are you making?" I called out as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"Tacos," he exclaimed, "I thought that might cheer you up if nothing else."

"I'm fine, Dad," I quickly insisted, folding my arms over my chest.

He grinned over his shoulder at me, "whatever you say."

I rolled my eyes but stayed quiet. I pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat down.

"Okay. Well, what're the plans for tomorrow?" Dad asked, still facing the stove.

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"Don't you wanna explore a little? You might like it here more than you think," he glanced back at me with a solemn expression.

"Maybe," I forced a grin, "but how will I get there?"

"Your bicycle," he chuckled and turned back to the stove, "my car won't be here for a couple more days."

"Will it be here before I start school?"

He shrugged, still facing away from me, "maybe?"

"Oh, great," I huffed.

"Don't worry, I can take you to school in my truck if you'd rather do that."

"No thanks, " I chuckled, "I don't want to draw any attention to myself, and I'm pretty sure whipping into the school parking lot in a semi truck would do just that."

He laughed and cut the stove off, "tacos are done, Kid. I'm gonna go freshen up."

I hopped up and threw a taco together while Dad was in the bathroom. I stood in front of the stove and was just about to take a bite of my most favorite food in the world when suddenly I was interrupted by a knock at the front door. I was a little confused because we didn't really know anyone yet.

Taco still in hand, I made my way to answer the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

There was no answer.

The situation was a little sketchy, so I peeked through the glass peephole on the door, but I literally couldn't see anything. It was pitch-black even though the sun hadn't fully set yet. It was like someone was holding their finger over the hole so I couldn't see them.

"Who was at the door?" Dad suddenly blurted out from behind me making me jump straight up.

I shrugged and quietly said, "I don't know."

Dad unlatched the door with no hesitation while I nervously stood back.

He peeked outside and the corners of his mouth upturned, "Hey there. Can I help you?"

He opened the door the rest of the way and revealed a family of three: a middle-aged woman wearing lots of makeup, a middle-aged man wearing a button up shirt and a teenage boy wearing a letterman jacket.

"Hello! We are the Hughes! We live across the street," the woman exclaimed, pointing to their house, "I'm Michelle, this is my husband Joe, and this is our son, Bradley. We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood."

Michelle and Joe took turns shaking hands with my dad while Bradley stood off to the side with an annoyed expression on his face.

"Thank you, it's nice to meet you guys. I'm Frank, and this is my daughter, Evelyn," he pointed to where I was standing.

I quickly hid my taco from their view and forced a smile.

"Nice to meet Y'all," I said but didn't approach.

Joe started talking to my dad about truck driving and sports, so I walked away to finally enjoy my taco. When I was done eating, I heard Dad invite them inside for coffee, so that was my cue to go hide. I decided to shower. I scavenged some pajamas from the many boxes on my bedroom floor and made my way to the bathroom.

I pulled open the shower curtain and twisted the faucet on. I slipped out of my t-shirt and gym shorts. I spent some time trying to relax and wind down, but my anxiety kept creeping in. I was nervous about starting school that Monday. Westview High has over 2,000 students in the high school alone, which is quadruple the number of kids from my school back in Washington. I was afraid of being just another face in the crowd, but isn't that what I was?

After a steamy shower, I slipped into my pajamas and brushed the tangles out of my hair with my shaky fingertips. I didn't dare look in the mirror. I didn't want to see what shade of purple the bags beneath my eyes would be after the long day I'd had. I could still hear voices in the living room when I exited the bathroom, so I went straight to my bedroom to comfortably resume my seclusion. Shyness has always been my most frustrating characteristic, and something I wasn't sure if I could ever work through because staying inside my own head was much more homely.

It was close to impossible for me to fall asleep that night. It wasn't because of the thunderous sounds of the city as I had expected- it was actually quite still in the suburbs. It was the intense anxiety, the fear of what was to come in this vast city. My chin trembled unintentionally, and a few warm tears escaped my eyes, streaming down my cheeks and dampening my pillow.

I don't remember when it was that I finally gave in to sleep.