Page 2 of The Catalyst

“Hey, neighbors!” A nice middle-aged couple strolls out of the open garage next to our new house. It's a downgrade from the colonial-styled home my parents paid off years ago, but it's the right size for us.

Just the two of us.

“Hello!” my mother responds enthusiastically even though I can see she’s drained.

My mom chats idly with our adult neighbors as a girl around my age walks out of the house with a big smile, brown hair falling in waves around her shoulders. I step away from the parentals.

“Hey,” she says as she stops in front of me. “New to the area?”

“Is it that obvious?” I ask with a laugh on the tip of my tongue.

“Grove Hill is a small place. It's big news when someone new moves to town. When this house sold, it was all anyone could talk about for days.”

Great.Just what the doctor ordered.

I don’t mind attention or gossip. People are going to talk, and it doesn’t bother me, but I’m determined to make the most of this. That’s exactly why this is going to be the best year ever, and I’m going to start knocking things off my bucket list.

I started adding things to it when I was fourteen, and the list is a mile long by now. I’ve only knocked one thing off of it because I’ve played it safe.

My mind goes to that dark place thinking about that one thing because it makes me think of Shawn. I can’t go there right now. I don’t want the first nice person I’ve met in this town to think I’m crazy.

“I’m Bethany Mercer,” I greet her and she smiles.

“Judy Gunderson. My brother would come out to say hi, but he is obsessed with his gaming system. Do you have any siblings?”

Judy seems so nice, with a big smile on her face. She’s so welcoming. I can tell we’re going to be great friends.

“No siblings, sadly.”

* * *

Judyand her parents help my mom and I set up the basics in the house. The rest can wait. Plus, I’m pretty sure my mom is eager to lose herself to the bottle again.

I swear, I’ll never be like that.

Judy and I hang out in my room for a while as we spend time getting to know each other. She doesn’t have very many friends, which is hard to believe.

I don’t bring attention to it, but my eyes keep seeking out the scars on her arms. I’ve seen marks like them before.

Scars lining the inside of her forearms from her wrists to her elbow. Some are years old, while others are barely scabbed over.

Judy is a cutter, and that hurts my heart.

I don’t think she notices that I see it, and I’ll keep that knowledge to myself. I don’t want to rock the boat when we’ve just met. Once she’s comfortable with me, I’ll bring it up to her–make sure she knows I’m here if she wants to talk.

“Don’t tell me there’s nothing to do on a Friday night in Grove Hill,” I beg, feeling antsy just sitting around.

That’s the way Hempstead was, and I hated it.

“There is always something to do on a Friday night.” She laughs. “It all depends on the crowd you want to be involved with.”

I grin. “What sorts of crowds are there to choose from?”

“On one hand, you have the richie rich, hoity-toity,” she offers. I nearly puke at the description. I’m not a richie type of girl and if I have to pretend I’m someone I’m not, I might actually die.

“Ew, no.”

“That’s what I thought.” She shakes her head in disbelief, her hazel eyes shining with delight. “The other option is more rebellious.”

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