Page 12 of Resurrection
This is the reason I haven’t been back to Sageview Ridge.
The fucking past is everywhere, and it’s catching up with me.
4TYLER [THE PAST]
A weekbefore my freshman year of high school, my parents finally purchased their first home.
"Never thought we’d get out of that apartment," Dad said as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "It’s something, huh, honey?" He pulled Mom closer and kissed her on her cheek.
They looked so happy, so accomplished while the movers worked in a steady rhythm, unloading the furniture from the truck. My dad nodded approvingly as they carried my mother’s favorite coffee table into the house. Then he grinned at me, his smile bright under the sun.
His business had finally taken off after years of hard work, and now we could afford a much nicer place than our two-bedroom hellhole in the poorest part of the valley that I hated with all my heart. Dumb Mrs. Ringwald would always complain about my guitar practicing being too noisy. One time, she even suggested I didn’t have a knack for music.
Old witch.
But this new house—it was bigger, with a yard, a porch, and a garage. But most importantly, no shared walls.
My parents loved every inch of it. So did I.
"Ah, there’s so much light," Mom commented, walking through the living room filled with carton boxes. She stared out the windows and smiled. "And I can finally have a small garden."
I looked around, seeing possibilities in the empty rooms and wide-open spaces.
"It's gonna be great, kid. You’ll be going to a very good high school." Dad ruffled my hair. "And you’ll have your own rehearsal space."
I didn’t care about the school. I'd never been great at academics, no matter how much my mother pushed me to study. My grades were passable at best. Ever since I saw an Eddie Van Halen video at the age of nine, I knew I was going to do what he did. I wanted to play my guitar in a band that I was planning on putting together. I didn’t know how yet, but I was hoping that if I behaved myself, I could maybe ask my dad to let me have the garage soon.
On the other side of the room, Mom was already imagining the color of curtains she’d get to match her throw pillows.
I felt a mix of nerves and excitement as I exited the house and crossed the driveway to pick up a box with my posters and band memorabilia. I carried it back inside, picturing how I’d decorate my room.
That’s when I saw him standing just behind the fence separating our yard from the neighbor's.
He seemed a little older. Maybe a senior. His presence was immediate. Maybe because of his height. Or his deep tan or dark long hair that hung loose. He was watching me intensely. With the stare like I could bet my damn pinkie toe he got all the girls.
I stopped, trying to get a better look, but he disappeared from sight.
Great.
This neighbor's kid better not be some weirdo, I thought to myself.
Later in the evening, I found myself outside again, testing out the new basketball hoop that came with the house. I wasn’t great at sports either, but it was a good exercise.
The ball hit the rim and bounced off, landing far from where I'd hoped it would. I chased after it to the sidewalk, feeling clumsy and out of place in more ways than one.
"So you’re the new neighbor, huh?"
I looked up to see the guy again, standing at the edge of the yard. This time, he was close enough that I could see a small smirk playing on his lips. I wasn't sure if it was friendly or teasing. He wore dark-blue jeans and some faded off-brand sneakers, but I had to give him some credit for his Limp Bizkit T-shirt.
"Yeah," I replied, trying to play it cool even though I felt awkward.
"Kewl."
"You live here?" I pointed at the cream-colored house behind him as I picked up the ball from the ground.
"Yeah. I’m Adri," he said as if that explained everything. "What’s your name?"
"Ty," I answered, holding the ball under one arm.
