Echoes Marissa Lete (best ereader for students .TXT) 📖

could be turned into a science experiment. Eventually, we decided to move, partially because the echoes of the past had piled up over the years in our old house, and partially because it would give me a fresh start to try and be a normal teenager and make friends, something I’d failed to do up to that point.

We had a brand new house built here in Shorewick—one with no past to echo at me—and we set aside an entire room we call the “office” where no one is allowed to make any noise so that I can go there when I need silence. Now, the office is mine, one of the only places besides cars where I don’t have to constantly hear the echoes of the past.

“Alright, let’s go watch some sappy rom-coms and complain about how awful boys are,” Grace pulls the handle of her door, stopping the music and startling me out of my thoughts.

I take a deep breath, pausing after Grace closes the door. One year ago today was the day we moved here to Shorewick, so today, I will start hearing echoes of the past in my own house again. I remind myself that it’s okay, that I’ve dealt with this before, and that I still have the office if I need a break. But even so, it takes all of my effort to tear myself out of the car and force my feet up the walkway to the front door.

Inside, Mom’s voice rings out from the past, though she’s not even home yet today. “No, no, we need to flip it on its side! David—”

“Hold on, it’s almost through—” Dad’s echo grunts in reply.

“Wait, stop, you’re scratching the wall!”

Then there’s a scuffling of something, in fact, scraping against the wall, followed by a thud.

“I’m going to get the movie set up in your room, you get the snacks?” Grace tells me after setting her bag down and taking her shoes off. She doesn’t wait for my reply before darting up the stairs.

“Sounds like a plan,” I call to her, then watch her go, my focus going back to the abundance of echoes in the entranceway.

Dad had apparently believed that he could squeeze the couch through the narrow entranceway into the living room at the back of the house, and had, in the process, left several scratches on the walls. I remember those scratches, which Mom had demanded we paint over not a week after moving in.

Attempting to tune out the noise, I start towards the kitchen, imagining the snacks I can grab. But then the doorbell rings, causing me to pause mid-stride.

“Laura! Can you get that please?” Mom’s echo calls out from the living room. A moment later, footsteps appear on the staircase, making their way down to the door. I hesitate in the entranceway, trying to decide if I should tune out the noise or follow the echoes. I don’t remember who our first visitor at this house was, so my curiosity gets the best of me and I walk over to the door.

I hear it creak open, then the sound of my own voice greeting whoever is at the door. “Hello?”

“Hey there!” a woman’s voice answers jubilantly.

“Who is it?” Mom’s echo appears in the hallway, her footsteps thudding toward the door.

“Hi! My name is Annie, and this is my son, Maverick. We’re your new neighbors!” the woman says, but her voice doesn’t sound familiar.

“Oh hello! It’s so nice to meet you! Which neighbors are you?” Mom’s voice replies.

“Across the street and to the left, the one with the yellow flowers in front,” Annie’s echo answers, and I furrow my brows at the statement. Hadn’t that house been abandoned since before we moved in? I rack my brain, trying to remember. Our neighbor Kate and her two poodles live directly across from us, and an old man named Riko lives to the right of her. But I don’t remember anyone living to the left.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you! You can come on in if you’d like, but it’s a little messy still. We’re just barely getting our furniture moved in,” Mom’s echo tells the new neighbors.

“Oh, no, we don’t want to intrude! But we did want to bring you this,” Annie replies, and then I hear the shuffling of something across hands.

“Wow, thank you so much! This vase is gorgeous.” Flowers, then. I don’t remember our neighbors bringing us flowers when we moved in—or anyone bringing us anything, for that matter. But maybe I’d just forgotten about it?

“Don’t be fooled, it’s only some fancy paint, not real stained glass,” Annie laughs.

“Well, it’s beautiful all the same!”

“I’m glad—” Annie begins, but gets cut off by the sound of Dad yelping loudly from the living room across the house, followed by an assurance that he was, in fact, okay.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Annie. That’s my husband, David. We’re having some… trouble getting our furniture moved into the house.” Mom tells her with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it! Is it just the three of you? Could you use any help?”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you!”

“Nonsense!” Annie insists. “I might not be able to help with the heavy lifting, but I can bring in some smaller boxes and things. And I’ve got a very capable seventeen-year-old boy here who’d be glad to help move some of the heavier stuff, right Maverick?”

“Sure, what do you need?” a male voice replies from next to Annie’s on the porch.

Mom, sounding like she doesn’t want to ask so much of a couple of strangers but also like she’s frazzled enough to do it anyways, replies, “Alright, then. Come on in, I need to go check on David to make sure he didn’t seriously injure himself.”

Mom’s footsteps clatter down the entranceway towards the living room, followed by another,