Four sightings within a week.
There was no tangible proof—merely reports made by drunken fishermen. It was enough to convince Mom to pack the little we owned and relocate us halfway across the world.
Not only did this move wreck my chances of making friends, but it cost a loan worth more than a private jet. It would impact my opportunity to enroll at a reputable college and pay for student housing.
My future, crushed.
I sighed, crumpling up the pamphlet the flight attendant handed me when we departed the plane. A utopian scenery sprawled across the paper with Bowmore, Scotland, printed in bold lettering at the top.
What were these phenomenal creatures worthy of ruining my life?
Mermaids. Yeah, I wish I was kidding.
Dad had no trouble with the idea because Scotland was a paranormal investigator's wonderland.
I could wrap my head around my dad’s profession of ghost hunting—but my mom’s?
She believed in mermaids, fairies, and Bigfoot, for crying out loud.
You wouldn’t think that when you looked at her. She slipped out of the cab dressed in a gray pencil skirt and a matching blazer; her long, diamond-blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Her bone-white heels crunched on the rocky driveway, resistant to the mud running between the crevices of the smooth stones beneath her.
No one would ever mess with her, not even Scotland’s stubborn mud.
I looked like her, with the same shade of blonde hair and cornflower-blue eyes, but I was nowhere near as classy.
I had mud stains halfway up my pant legs and on the palms of my hands. My black Converse sneakers now had an intimate relationship with the dense, brown stuff.
I shoved the crumpled pamphlet into the pocket of my jeans and tugged out my backpack from the cab’s trunk. I turned to peer at my dad.
“Please tell me this is one of the stops we have to make?” I waved an arm toward the cramped, quaint cottage.
It stood out against the canvas of bountiful greenery, the air balmy of forest and saltwater. There was a beach within walking distance, and it was the only thing I found appealing about this place.
I've always wanted to live near the beach, but not when I had to sacrifice everything else.
Dad’s smile broadened. “Nope. This is it.”
I wanted to cry. “If I don’t have my own room this time, I’m going to run away. I’m dead serious.”
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. “There’s a caravan in the back. All yours.”
“Good,” I breathed. Not that it was any more agreeable, but at least I'd have some privacy. “So, how do we get to the stores? Do we even have the internet around here?”
“We take a boat over to Bowmore and do all our shopping there. As for the internet, there’s a cell tower close enough for some coverage. It might be a bit slow, but it’s better than nothing.”
“No, I meant an actual, decent internet provider.” The sinking feeling was expanding inside my chest, and I dreaded the answer I already knew was coming.
I was an avid gamer. When I wasn’t reading or dragged around by my parents from one location to the next, I lived in my favorite online fantasy game.
I had no friends, as we never settled in one place long enough. Gaming for me was pure, undiluted escapism from my disordered life.
It was all I had to look forward to and my only hope of having a social life. I mean, I get to talk to people in the game.
That counted for something, right?
“Sorry, but no,” Dad sympathized. “Bowmore should have an internet cafe. You could always go to town if you need to do anything on the internet.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I glanced over at the only other house I had seen on the island a few yards away. It was much bigger and more welcoming.
The stone path leading up toward the house was flush with clusters of pastel daylilies framed on either side. Rose vines crept up against the smooth, silver stone walls, and clouds of smoke puffed from the chimney circled by at least a dozen doves.
A big part of me wished it were ours instead of the small, creaky cottage that could collapse on top of us if anyone so much as sneezed.
We had a pretty garden, but it needed a lot of work. Since we were in the middle of nowhere, it looked like it would be the next best thing to do to pass the time.
That and swimming.
I glanced back at Dad. “What about a library?”
“They have one back in town.” He gave an unsettled peek in Mom’s direction. “I’ll see if we can figure out something and get you a Kindle. Load it with some books next time we get into town. It should be easier and cheaper than hauling a bunch of books on a small raft. I doubt the library would let you keep them too long anyway, and we don’t want to end up with fines, now do we?”
I sighed. The prospect of not having the internet here was painful. It was an everyday necessity for me. Now getting my hands on reading material would be another problem.
This was ridiculous.
“We could get you a few computer games.”
“The ones I like to play requires the internet, Dad,” I pointed out. “Fast, reliable internet.”
I’ve never seen Dad look this helpless.
Good.
This was what they got for wrecking my life, preventing me from making any friends, and moving us into the middle of freaking nowhere.
He turned, picked up two suitcases, and hurried after Mom. I guessed that concluded our plan to keep me occupied while we lived here for who knows how long.
I stared after him, trying to think of one positive thing out of this whole move.
When I found myself in a sticky or unpleasant situation, I would always think of a few positives. I couldn’t think of one.
“You can do this,” I murmured under my breath.
There was a loud clatter to my left. I turned to see an older man on our neighboring house’s porch, glaring like he wished a plague upon me. He was all gray but tall and bulky, his body indicating strength and vitality like a twenty-something-year-old who thrived in heavy weightlifting. If you took all that brawn away, he’d look like an angry Santa.
I chickened out of his death stare and hurried toward the cottage. I didn’t look back to see if he had moved or not. I had a feeling our neighbor didn’t like people much.
There went my only hope of any social interaction.