text: The House was bigger than my own, by far. I knew at once I didn’t like it, even from the back seat of my dad’s tiny car. I grimaced at its high chimneys and wild garden. There was something deeply foreboding about it, something that my father was either refusing to see or hadn’t noticed. At this moment he was fiddling around with something in the glove compartment. After a moment of silence, he turned in his seat to face me. “Well? What do you think?” I turned back to The House, noticing that the large, front door had a brass knocker in the shape of a dragons head. “I don’t like it,” I replied, simply. “I knew you would say that, but you’ll learn to love it.” He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice. “It’ll be...easier. There’ll be lots of other kids, just like you.” *Just like me? Hardly.* I twisted a strand of my curly, brown hair around my fingers. “It’s too big,” was all I could think of. My father laughed softly. “Yes, your mother thought so too. But you’ll get used to it, she knows that deep down.” We fell into an awkward silence. I knew he, like me, was thinking of the horrible incident this morning, when my mother had grabbed me just as I was heading out the door, and screamed that she didn’t want me to go anymore, she didn’t want the family to split up at a time like this. I gazed back out of the window, watching two younger girls come skipping round the corner. When they got closer to The House they sped up considerably, breaking into a run and only stopping when they reached the opposite corner. “This place is too conspicuous,” I complained. “It stands out a mile.” “Mm-hm?” He’d gone back to fiddling in the glove compartment. I tutted loudly and he looked up again. “Here. From your mother.” He passed me a small package, containing several sheets of fancy writing paper and three different coloured pens. “I think she wants you to write to her,” he said with a smile. “She obviously doesn’t trust the phone lines.” I smiled lightly, trying to look grateful but not really feeling it. “Well come on,” he opened his car door and prepared to exit. “Let’s get it over with.” *Easy for you to say*. I reluctantly followed lead, making as much a fuss as I could. My father got my cases from the boot, promising to bring the rest of my stuff over the next few days. “We don’t want to make it too obvious you’re going away for long,” he’d explained. The tall, iron gates that locked out trespassers from the grounds were ajar. A bronze plaque on the gate read: **The House.** **Miss Goldie.** I rolled my eyes. *The House? Such an original name.* “Do you want me to come in with you? Or...” he had paused in the middle of the path. “I think I’d rather go in myself, then I won’t feel worse about leaving,” I decided. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings but couldn’t think of any other way to put it. He seemed to understand though. He passed me my cases and gave me an awkward hug, negotiating around the cases in my hands. “Good luck,” he said, “and...and I’ll see you soon. Ok?” I nodded, not really believing in what he was saying. He stood for one more moment then gave me one last hug and left. I waited until the drone of the car engine faded before I turned to the door. I had to put down my cases, to reach up and use the dragons head. I waited a couple of minutes before someone came to the door. It opened a millimetre wide and a suspicious eye peered out from inside. “Who’s that?” said the person belonging to the eye. “It’s Caree. Caree Simmis.” The door slammed shut then was opened wide again by a large, smiling woman. She had wild, red hair and a friendly, ’mother-goose’ kind of face. She pulled me, swiftly, inside, closing the door carefully behind her. “Welcome, welcome,” she muttered, leading me to a large sitting room. It’s decor was the exact opposite of the outside appearance. It reminded me of a grandmothers house, not my own grandmothers but someone’s. She sat me down on a comfy, chintz armchair. “Tea, water, juice? I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee, no one likes it here.” “I’m ok thanks.” “Was your journey alright? You found the place ok?” “Yeah it was fine.” “I was so worried that you where turning up during the day, usually they come at night. It’s more discreet.” I felt foolish at that. It hadn’t occurred to me that turning up at night was an option. I tugged at my suitcase to distract me from my embarrassment. “Oh, your cases,” said the woman, noticing the fidgeting. “I’ll get Michelle to take them up to your room. We’ve had to put you on the top floor I’m afraid. The bottom’s full, due to popular demand, you see.” She stood and called upstairs. A moment later, a tall, gangly teenager appeared at the door. She too had red hair, that was obviously untamed. Unlike the woman though, she had hers lay loose around her shoulders. She was really quite pretty. “Could you take Caree’s cases up to her room please? And warn the rabble that dinner will be on the table in a wee while. Oh,” she turned back to me, “I’m Miss Goldie, but some of the kids like to call me Auntie Goldie. I don’t mind it if you do.” I nodded, adamant that I would avoid calling this woman ’auntie’ at all costs. The tall girl had lifted my cases and had now turned to Miss Goldie. “Shall I take her up with me?” “Why not? It would certainly save me from climbing all those stairs,” she stood and beckoned that I follow. “You can go up to your room and get settled just now. I’ll introduce you properly at dinner.” I forced a smile and followed the tall girl out of the room and up the tall flight of stairs. “I’m Michelle by the way,” she said. “Caree,” I replied, hating my name. “Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t believe the fuss Miss Goldie’s been making over you. I’ve heard nothing but your name for two weeks.” I blushed. “Don’t think you’re anything special, though,” she laughed. “She makes that much fuss over all the new kids. Saying that, you’re not really a kid are you? You must be, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?” “I’m sixteen, seventeen in January.” “I’m eighteen. Just turned it last month.” “Right.” We continued to climb the stairs. On the third floor, we passed a green door that was slightly ajar. A small face was peering through the crack, watching us pass with very little discretion. On noticing this too, Michelle kicked the door closed with her foot causing the person on the other side to cry out in outrage. “Oh shurrup!” Michelle snapped, continuing on the ascent. “Shouldn’t be spying any way!” “Wasn’t spying!” came the angry voice of a small, freckled, slightly tanned boy, with very short, blonde hair and a strong glare; he had stepped outside of his room by this point. “You were too! Now go do something useful! Go help Auntie Goldie with the dinner, will you!” The small boy glowered at her then glanced at me. His eyes grew wider. “Who’s that?” he asked, openly pointing at myself. “New girl,” Michelle called from the landing, “And it’s rude to point!” I forced a smile at the boy, who continued to stare, then hurried after Michelle. She had already reached the top floor, and was waiting at the brown door on the right hand side. There were only two rooms on this floor, mine and whoever occupied the second on the left hand side. That door was painted pitch black. “That’s Colin’s room,” Michelle said, watching me. “But you can meet him later, come on!” She pushed open my door and I entered my new bedroom. It was very small, much smaller than my old room. There was a dingy bed, pushed up against the wall under the window. A small wardrobe stood against the right wall and there was a writing desk against the left. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling and Michelle flipped the switch, casting a dull, orangey light into the dusty room. The floorboards lay bare and the old wallpaper was peeling at places. There were no curtains on the window. Michelle dumped my suitcases on the dusty floor and strode to the bed, flinging herself onto the creaky mattress and surveying the room for herself. “So? What do you think?” I let my eyes sweep over the dull features of my tiny room. I shrugged. “It’s ok.” “Ok?” “Well yeah...I mean, it’s great.” Michelle eyed me suspiciously before exhaling. “Look, I know this place isn’t exactly luxury living, but Miss Goldie tries her best, you know? You can do up the room how you like it. Most of the rest of them already have. And you can bring in furniture from home and stuff. You’ll be fine. They all are, when they get settled.” She gave me a reassuring smile which I did not return. I was feeling lousy at her mention of ’stuff from home’. I may have lived in quite a small house, but my room was much more welcoming than this. However, I knew better than to begrudge Miss Goldie’s help so I ran a hand across the desk and nodded. “This is pretty cool. I’ve always wanted someplace I can write.” “Great.” Michelle rose form the bed and crossed back to the doorway. She stood just inside it, leaning against the frame, her arms crossed. And there she stood, watching my every move as I unpacked all my meagre belongings. Because of the spontaneous decision to move to The House, I had only been able to pack essentials, with the promise that my parents would bring more later in the week. I hung my clothes in the wardrobe, which still looked pathetically bare. I then placed my photo’s and writing presents from my mother on the writing desk. Then, I moved onto my books and hygienic products ect. Michelle then found it apt to quiz me on all my possessions. “Where did you get this?” she asked, holding up a seashell alarm clock that I had just placed on the writing desk. “It was my grandmothers. I took it from her house when she died.” “Why?” I frowned, feeling annoyed. “Because I wanted it. Something to remember her by, I guess.” Michelle replaced the item without further comment. “And what about this?” She examined the front cover of one of the first books I had unpacked and thrown, unceremoniously, into a drawer of the desk. “It’s a book,” I replied. “I can see that! But why Narnia? Isn’t that, like, a little kiddie book?” “I don’t know. I like it anyway.” Michelle raised her eyebrows then threw the book back into the drawer. I finished unpacking the last suitcase and stowed it, on top of the others, at the bottom of the wardrobe. Michelle had moved away from the door frame and was gazing at each of my photos. “Is this you?” she asked with a smile, bending to look at a particularly embarrassing photo of myself with my grandparents. “Yep, that’s me. Stupid picture, I know but...” I let my voice trail away. I had always hated that my mother framed the photo of naked, baby me with my grandparents all laughing in the background as I pulled my nappy onto my head and grinned into the camera. But when I was packing to leave it felt strange to leave it behind. “Why do you have this picture if you find it stupid?” Michelle asked, picking up a different one. “It’s the only photo I have of my grandparents.” “Are they all dead?” I nodded, realising that Michelle’s sharpness and no-nonsense tones were going to really irritate me during my stay. I yawned, pointedly, hoping it would be enough to get her to leave. “Can I ask,” she began moving towards the door again, “what do you have?” I opened my mouth to reply but couldn’t form the words. I knew exactly what she was referring to, but still found it an awkward subject all the same. “Gene Z3,” I joked, wondering if it would be enough. Not so. Michelle rolled her eyes and glared at me. “Yeah but...what’s wrong with you?” I glared back at her. I was definitely not becoming friends with this girl. I had half a mind to ask her to leave, but just answering would be as equally affective. “Sight,” I replied. “I’m a Seer...or at least in that category.” “So...you can see the future and...” “Not...really. I can see the present...things that are happening just now. And I can’t really turn it on and off. It comes randomly, you know? Like a sneeze or-” I stopped talking abruptly, sensing that she had already lost interest. Her eyebrows had gotten narrower and narrower as I had spoke. “So, what’s your...thing?” I asked, hoping to make her feel as uncomfortable as I was. As it was, she just shrugged and examined the thumbnail on her right hand. “I don’t have one. No one in my family does.” “Oh...” I tried to refrain from further questioning but doubted she would have done the same. “No one does? Then how come you-” “Miss Goldie’s my aunt. I came to help her at The House cause I thought it’s be easier than a summer job. I dropped out of school last year and became a full time worker. Guess I’ve gotten attached to this place.” I nodded, then feeling that I may as well keep going, “And Miss Goldie...she isn’t...?” “I just said no one in my family has the Gene, didn’t I?” I nodded again and a tense silence unfolded. I was glad that Michelle broke it. “Well, I’d better get going. Miss Goldie’ll need help with the dinner. It should be ready pretty soon so I’ll let you know. You share a bathroom with the third floor gang...located on the third floor. It’s the bright blue door.” and with that she was gone, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t seem too angry but I could tell I’d touched a nerve. Well so what? I thought. Serves her right for snooping in my business. As I turned back to the room I felt an overwhelming surge of loneliness sweep over me. My eyes began to water and an all too familiar lump rose in my throat. Before I could stop it, tears were streaming from my eyes blurring my vision and blocking my nose. I simply stood there, ashamed of this sudden well of emotion and not sure that I should stop it. Taking deep breaths, I furiously wiped the tears from my eyes, strode to my new writing desk and flung myself into the chair. It was only when I sat down that I noticed the tiny, square mirror, propped up against the wall behind the desk. I pulled the mirror towards me, wiped off the dust using my sleeve and examined my reflection. The skin around my brown eyes had gone red with the tears, even more visible on my pale skin. I sighed, heavily, and tried to relax myself. I didn’t want to have to meet the rest of the house looking like this. I turned my attention to my hair, which I had left loose and sighed again. It had been straight this morning but my aggravation seemed to have made it frizz slightly. It was also tangled now, as easily as it happened and curly at the sides. There was no point trying to fix it. I pulled it up into a loose ponytail, with a bauble from around my wrist and prepared to check it in the mirror. I didn’t have time to even move my hand though, when a scream from downstairs made me almost fall out of my chair. “DINNER YOU LOT! HURRY IT UP!” I recognised Michelle’s voice and felt my stomach congeal with nerves. I waited until the clatter of footsteps on the stairs below me faded away, then I rose from the chair and prepared myself to meet the rest of the freaks.