i think it was on a sunday;;
The weather outside perfectly mirrored Ree’s attitude and the silence in the house wasn’t helping. She turned over in her bed with a sigh and stared out the window, watching as bare branches whipped viciously against the pane with an unsatisfying scratching sound. It had only been a few days since the move, and she was already wistfully remembering the way the sun back home seemed to burn through her hair, until her scalp nearly matched it in colour. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down her body, and she hugged the uncomfortably stiff duvet a little tighter around her narrow shoulders. The tree continued to scrape on the glass with increasing intensity, the sky beyond it a dull grey melting into the pale fog that lingered across the horizon.
After a few more minutes of self-pitying moping, Ree swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up abruptly. She wanted to hate the plush carpet that covered her bedroom floor, but it was so damn comfortable. It was white, of course, and like the rest of the godforsaken house, looked like it was straight out of Home and Garden magazine. Everything about it felt too new and eager and desperate. They used to call it “new money” but now it was just called “being pretentious and rich”. The walls of her bedroom were still bare, yawning over the furniture her father had bought, everything in a matching set, way too girly, and gleaming in the low light. Ree wrinkled her nose in distate. Maybe she was just being especially pessimistic, but who the hell cared, anyway? If she was going to be forced to live in this middle of nowhere suburb in Pennsylvania, she retained her right to be miserable about it.
She took the stairs in rapid succession, practically tumbling downstairs, which turned out to be just as empty as upstairs. The huge TV in the den reflected a distorted version of her body back at her, fuzzy around the edges and indistinct in the opaque, blank screen. For a second, she almost convinced herself there was a delay as she raised her hand in a half-hearted wave, like some X Files, Twilight Zone shit. But the illusion only lasted a moment, and she dropped her arm back down to her side. Where was that kid? Her… “step brother”, or whatever the hell. Conrad? Carter? Calvin. When her father had zipped off this morning, white trash wife number two in tow, rushing through the hall with hardly a glance at her, he mentioned that he would be around. If the utter lack of sound in the house was any indication, though, he was either dead or sleeping.
Growing increasingly annoyed, Ree spun around and stalked to the kitchen. At least she could always eat for entertainment. But she screeched to a half when she saw him sitting at the table, hunched over a bowl of cereal, his eyes almost completely covered by the long hair in front of his face. He didn’t even look up to acknowledge her. She scoffed quietly and steered straight for the fridge, pulling it open with a huff.
“Why is everything around here so fucking boring?” she asked into the cold shelves. “There’s not even anything good to eat.” Slamming the door shut, she turned around and crossed her arms, staring at her new step-brother with an exasperated expression. “Seriously. Please tell me I’m not going to rot in this town from goddamn brain atrophy before the day ends.”
