Where We Stay

Chapter One

“Paige, I’m going to work! Love you!” Mom yells from the bottom of the stairs.

“Love you too,” I call back, still half asleep.

I reach for my glasses from on top of the nearest box and sit up. Boxes are scattered all over my room from the move, mostly filled with clothes, books, and some room decor I haven’t decided where to put yet. We just moved here from Florida, and somehow my first day of school has already arrived.

 I force myself out of bed and grab the outfit I laid out last night: dark blue loose jeans, soft pink long-sleeve top, burgundy sweater, dark brown ankle boots, cream socks, and a dark brown coat to match. 

At least I know what I’m wearing. The less I have to do today, the better.

When I’m finally dressed, I make the last-minute decision to curl my strawberry blonde hair. I grab my black backpack and put it on. Just as I’m about to walk out of my room, I remember my schedule I had printed out a few days prior. 

I have all my classes memorized, even though I have no idea how to get around the school. Mom had to go to work early this morning, so I guess I’m on my own. I gather all the things I need for my day, walk out of my room, down the stairs, and out the front door, the wind biting my face immediately. 

As soon as I walk out of my house, I see what’s supposed to be my school bus driving right by my bus stop, the number 113 displayed on it. I try to convince myself it couldn’t have been my bus. But surely enough, I take out the neatly folded schedule from my pocket and look at the small “113 bus” I wrote in the bottom left corner. 

“Of freaking course,” I say to myself, snowflakes landing on my glasses. I’m gonna be the girl that’s late on the first day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I guess I forgot to put my sweater over my long-sleeve this morning. I'm really starting to wish I had asked Mom for a key. 

Biting my nails and tapping my foot on my icy porch, I fish my phone out of my pocket and try to decide whether to text my mom and ask her to get me or spare her from the stress. 

I guess I could text my Aunt Jenna, but I really don’t want to bother anybody. I watch the time tick closer and closer to 7:40 am as panic sets in. I have about twenty minutes until school starts. Mom will lose her mind if she finds out I was late to school, or worse, skipped. She’s an ER nurse, so it’s not like she can casually pick me up, and I can’t drive because I haven’t taken the test yet. I have no idea what to do, and my body is growing colder from this wind. 

“Did you also miss the bus?” I look up and find an old Ford F-150 in front of me, a boy my age driving it. 

“Yeah… the thing sped off as soon as I stepped out of the front door.”

“You’re going to Stonebridge Valley, right?” he asks, dark curls sweeping his forehead. “Yeah, I’m Paige. It’s supposed to be my first day, actually.”

“My name’s Ben. I can take you to school if you want. I know you don’t know me, but the drive is about seven minutes max. I’m a safe driver too, if that helps.” I pause and stare blankly at him, unsure what to say. Getting into a random boy’s truck is not exactly what Mom would call a good decision. I know that, but I don’t have any other options. My first instinct is to say no, but as I look back at the house, I remember Mom is at work, and she’s not coming to save me. I look back at him, then at the empty road ahead. He’s still waiting patiently, giving me enough space to make the decision myself. I glance at his truck. It’s an old navy pickup with a big cream stripe running across the middle. I hesitate one last time, then look at my hands. Maybe I’m overthinking this. He goes to my school, I’m freezing, and I have about twenty minutes to get there. I take a breath.

“Okay. But if you’re secretly a horrible driver, I’m gonna be pissed.”  

Ben laughs. “Fair enough.” I walk around the front of his truck as he reaches over the bench seat and opens my door. “Oh. Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Ben says. I get in the truck and sit down. The smell of old fabric mixed with a blasting heater hits my nose. I take my backpack off and set it on the ground between us. I close the truck door as Ben starts driving us to school. The truck is surprisingly clean. I notice the Stonebridge Valley backpack on the floor and am immediately put at ease. My glasses fog, and I groan. 

Ben chuckles, and I shoot him a look that basically says “oh shut up,” and decide to pull off my glasses to wipe them clear. After a few seconds of wiping them, they finally clear up, and I put them back on. I shiver, painfully remembering how I forgot my sweater this morning, and I wrap my thin coat tighter around myself. Ben watches me shivering, and when we get to our first stoplight, he grabs a folded pine green hoodie from between us and hands it to me. 

“Here, put this on,” he says. 

“No, I can’t. I feel bad,” I respond.

“Why?” he asks. “You're clearly freezing. I’m assuming you aren’t used to Stonebridge winters. Just take the hoodie–it’s clean, I promise." Ben smiles. 

“You’re sure you won’t get cold?” I ask. 

“No, I’ve got a coat in my backpack. Now put the hoodie on before you freeze.”

 “If you insist.” I take my coat off, throw the hoodie over my long sleeves, then put my coat back on. It’s pretty oversized, but surprisingly soft. As I’m checking out my new first-day outfit, I notice the hoodie reads “Grandma’s Hoard” in big off-white letters, and I laugh out loud as I read it.

“What?” Ben asks.

“I’m just reading what’s on my new hoodie. What is ‘Grandma’s Hoard’?” I ask.

“Oh! That’s the antique shop I work at. It’s a cute little place. My family owns it, actually. You should check it out sometime,” Ben says. 

“Will do.” I nod. I take a deep breath, and the smells of warm vanilla and amber hit my nose.

“Care for some music, milady?” asks Ben, placing his unlocked phone in my hand. I laugh and look at him.

“Sure,” I say, taking his phone and opening Spotify. I check out his playlists: “Grandma’s Morning Drive,” “Antique Shop,” “Workout Mix,” “Sleep,” the list goes on. I decide to put on his liked songs, click on the first song I see without reading it, turn off his phone, and set it on the seat between us. To my surprise, the song “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper starts playing from his phone, and Ben reaches over to turn it up. Before I know it, he’s singing along to every lyric like it’s the only song he’s listened to since birth. Though I love this song, it’s too early in the morning to sing my heart out. I notice three old cassette tapes on the dashboard and pick them up to read. “ABBA- Gold,” “Fleetwood Mac- Rumours,” and “Billy Joel- The Stranger.” A receipt from Grandma’s Hoard folded in between two of them. 

I look over at him. “No way. You actually like retro music?” 

“Obviously. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re a teenage boy,” I say.

Ben gasps. “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I wasn’t expecting to find actual treasure on your dashboard. But as someone who has classic hits on repeat all day, I’m so proud.”

“Well, what can I say? We have wonderful taste.”

“I would have to agree with you on that one.” For the next few minutes, we let music fill the truck, and Ben decides to listen to it instead of becoming it. I find myself becoming more comfortable than I expected to, considering I did just jump into a stranger's truck.

Before I know it, we’re pulling into the school parking lot. I’ve never seen this place in person. I start to bite my nails, a nervous habit I started doing at a young age. Ben parks the truck and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“Let’s see. It’s 7:35, so we still have a few minutes until they let us in,” he says, looking at me thoughtfully. “Listen, it’s not as intimidating as it looks. This is my third year here, and it’s honestly pretty nice.” I think about this for a second,

“Wait. So you’re a junior?” I ask, setting my hands in my lap to keep from biting my nails further.

“Yeah. How come?” asks Ben, looking at me, confused, raising his eyebrow. 

“I’m a junior, too. I’m not gonna lie, I thought you were a senior or something. But maybe you can help me with my schedule.” I say, pulling the folded, wrinkled piece of paper back out of my pocket. 

“Absolutely. Hand over the sacred scroll.” I don’t understand his obsession 

with talking like he’s from the Stone Age, but if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I hold out the folded square of paper, and just as he’s about to grab it, I pull it back at the last second. I chuckle when I notice the look he has on his face,

“Oh. Is that how you wanna play?” asks Ben.

“I believe it is,” I reply. I hold the paper in front of his face again as he tries to 

grab it, faster this time, but still too slow as I pull away. Ben closes his eyes and clutches his chest dramatically. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over the middle seat. As Ben opens his eyes, he raises an eyebrow, and I say, 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here,” I gently unfold the paper and place it on the middle seat, smoothing it out until it’s readable. I sit back and continue, “I surrender. You win.” 

“Thank you, Paige. You are too kind,” says Ben. He picks the sheet up and jokingly holds it right up to his face, eyes squinted. I clap two hands over my mouth to keep from laughing. He moves the page farther from his face so he can actually read it, and scans the page slowly. 

“Well, well, well,” he starts. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”