I had another stupid dream. A man in armor walked into my house with an ornate axe. Before he could kill me, I jumped through my old bedroom wall and ran down the street to a house that doesn't exist. I called 911 (or tried to) on an old sticky slide phone. To be brief, I died and now I know what death by axe feels like.

I woke up, then again for real... Then again for real.

My neck ached from not having a pillow yet. I was sleeping on a mattress in the middle of my new bedroom. Not even a blanket because I threw it away beforehand. Both of my windows had brand new black curtains. The sunset shown through one of them and filled the room with honey light.

For I second, I forgot we moved. Until he ran in.

"Blaine!" Andy cheered. "Can you help me with my boxes?"

Why didn't I sleep a little longer? I sat up and rubbed my neck. He asked again, and I had to acknowledge for the 467,888th time that we were related. We had the same vanilla skin, annoyingly long hair, and hazel eyes, but he was a squealy nine-year-old.

I understand I'm not a nine-year-old, but I didn't get how he could be fully dressed at five at night and jump around.

"You have arms and legs," I said. "Unpack your own stuff."

"I have more stuff than you, and a bigger room!"

"Maybe if you grew up and threw your toys away, I wouldn't hesitate to help. Now get out."

He fake frowned and sprinted out the door. Christ. I got up and stretched.

Boxes lined the walls, most of them still taped shut. I didn't feel like opening them. One of them in particular stared back at me with Throw Away written on it in marker.

It felt weird walking downstairs to get to the living room. We never had stairs, mostly because we always lived in apartments. This place was huge, at least to me. I gripped onto the wooden railing and supported myself with the wall as I ambled down. A draft of summer heat blew in from the cracked front door, mugging up the living room. Though everything was pretty unorganized, at least it was unpacked.

The hickory floor and mahogany wood patterned walls felt so cozy. The couches sat across from each other with a small ottoman between, while the plants, PC, TV, and bookshelf were in disarray.

Mom spun around in a black leather computer chair under the golden ceiling light, waving her face with a clothing catalog. Her curly, hickory hair hung over the back of the seat. She wore a white T-shirt tucked into khaki cargo shorts. I always wondered why Mom, Andy, and my Dad had brown hair, and I had to settle with hair the color of cranberries.

She probably noticed me staring into nothingness. "Blaine, honey, are you all unpacked?" Her voice was low and melodious.

"Nope, I fell asleep." I started up the stairs backwards before she could mention Andy. "Did they find your dresser?"

"They claimed they lost it on the trip. I'm gonna order a pizza later. Ask Andy what he wants."

I gave her a thumbs up and made it back up the stairs. Actually, no. Andy dashed down, hauling a small open bookbag. It sounded like he was hoarding jewelry and rocks in there.

"Hey Mom, is the TV set up?" He knelt on the floor and dumped all his stupid movies on the floor.

"Sure is, just don't-"

"Can I watch The Exorcist?"

"An-"

"And I want cheese pizza! Chucky loves cheese pizza! And sauce that looks like blooooood!"

He pulled out his basically antique Chucky doll. It used to scare the crap out of me, but I had gotten used to it. He tied his hair in a pink rubber band and put him in a frilly baby blue blouse.

"You want to show all the big tough fourth graders your doll baby?" I teased. I walked down the rest of the stairs and grabbed the doll from him.

"Blaine, stop picking on your brother!" Mom snapped. "Now go see if your schedules are in the mail. You're going to school, too, you know."

I tossed the doll back to Andy and marched to the front door. The door seemed like the only part of the house that wasn't redone completely. It wobbled like it was going to fall off any second. Maybe my dream 911-calling practice would pay off. Dreams do come true.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Why is the mailbox so far away?

There it was, a yard and a half across the lawn. How did we already have mail?

At least it gave me the opportunity to look around. Our house was the first on the street. The giant brick sign had a plaque on it with the neighborhood name: Jennings Street. All of the houses across and next to us were built differently: some had three floors, some had one floor, and I swore one of them was a manor. Maybe the variation of color and decoration was something my mom liked, but it only made me wonder why we had to get one of the "less desirable" houses. Maybe the apartments weren't so bad.

The mailbox had two things in it: My eleventh-grade schedule and Andy's fourth-grade one.

I looked all around me. The pearly white house to the left of us appeared pale orange under the setting sun. It had a wide wooden porch with a roof. I rested my chin on the mailbox. We missed the jackpot by a few yards next to our house. Geez. I could've used the concentration energy on a test or something.

That is, until someone came out from inside. He was tall and had light almond skin. His thick black hair was tied back in a ponytail. He took out the lollipop out of his mouth and sat on the steps. For a minute, I didn't notice him staring at me.

I stumbled back and plastered a weird smile on my face.

"Hi!" he called and waved to me.

"Hi!" My laugh sounded creepy.

"What's up!"

"I-I gotta go! Bye!"

I almost tripped on the rock plates leading up to our house. The door seemed to glide shut behind me. Or I just didn't realize how fast I could run and hide. I plopped down on the welcome mat and felt warmer than I did in a long time.

"I... got your... schedule," I panted.

Andy dashed over and took the envelope from my hand. He ripped it open and scanned over the one teacher he had. Attached was a pink piece of paper.

"I have Ms. Osborne!" he cheered.

Mom took the letter from him. "Blaine, you used to have her in first grade, right?"

"I guess she moved up a few grades," I said. "God, I'm tired."

"You already took two naps today."

Mom walked into the kitchen with her phone to her ear.

Andy looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just saw a racoon."

"You saw someone, didn't you? Can I meet them?"

"Shut up, A-"

Someone knocked on the door. I prayed the pizza man was just early. But of course, I was wrong.

It was that guy again. Up close, I could tell we were the same age. He had kind, narrow eyes, a strong nose, and a gentle smile.

"It's you! I mean-hi," I stuttered.

"Hey, so you're the bi-theh-sias?" his voice was soft and honeylike. "You dropped some mail."

"I-It's pronounced bithersee... I'm Blaine. What's your name?"

"Griffin Colly."

"Cool name. Where'd you get it?"

"What?"

"Sorry. I just didn't think I'd meet anyone... at all."

"Oh, well... Do you know around this place? I was headed somewhere and-"

The pizza man appeared behind Griffin, holding two boxes of deliciousness. He shoved through and handed me the receipt and Griffin the pizzas. He tipped his hat. "You gotta tip, kid?"

"I got it." Griffin took his wallet from his pocket and handed the weirdo seven dollars.

He faltered down the steps, mumbling a Linkin Park song.

"So... did you wanna head to the park with me?" he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Murderkill Park is just around here."

"Sorry, not today," I said. "I have to help unpack. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Cool! See you tomorrow, Bythesea. Hope the pizza's good."

He waved and walked down the stairs. I nudged the door closed (and nudged Andy out the way) and set the pizzas on the ottoman. Mom pranced into the living room with paper plates and napkins. She could probably eat an entire box and still be hungry. Her stomach growled. So did mine.

"What classes do you have, honey?" she asked me.

"Oh, uh," I tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper. It was the usual schedule chart where I couldn't tell what classes I had in what order. "Algebra, English, Earth science... History... Boring."

"School starts August 27th, so you have plenty of time to look around. You too, Andy, dear."

Andy abandoned the Chucky doll on the floor and piled three slices of pizza on a plate.

The 27th: that's in three weeks! Awesome!

I piled some pizza on my plate and ran upstairs before Andy put The Exorcist in the DVD player.

I closed my bedroom door and turned on the lights. It was getting dark out; how could Griffin walk around somewhere called Murderkill at night without screaming his head off? Then again, the name sounded familiar.

I sat down on the mattress and munched down. As I did, all I could do was look at the box that stared at me. Throw Away.

Throw it all out... Every single piece of junk.