Amber Frost Read Online Free PDF Page A

old oak trees felt too close as they formed their skeletal canopies against the sky. After nearly three months of living here, it had yet to feel like home.
    The bus came to a smooth stop at the gates to my massive house. I stood up reluctantly, lifting my designer shoulder bag as I made my way down the aisle between the seats. No one said goodbye or waved to me as I got off the bus, but I didn’t expect them to. None of my popular friends took the bus, so there was no one who I could speak to and no one who would dare approach me. As part of the popular group, I was ironically isolated and alone.
    I hopped off the bus and made my way towards the gates at the end of my driveway. They began smoothly sliding apart as I approached – someone was watching. I heard the even purr of the bus’s engine as it pulled away behind me. Only the sound of the swirling wind rattling the tree branches and sweeping away the last of autumn’s leaves could be heard as I walked down the smoothly paved driveway to my house.
    My house was massive, white and pristine; it reminded me of an old American, colonial mansion. I tried not to look at it too closely though as I walked around to the side where the casual entrance was. Just looking at this beautiful, impressive house made me feel empty inside.
    The house itself was never empty; there were always at least two staff members working at any given time. We had a cook named Eliza, two different maids, and a butler, Walter, who really just managed the staff and household in my parents’ absence. My parents were almost always absent. Perhaps that was why this house felt so unwelcoming, so sad to me. Ever since my father had been named a partner and we’d moved to Beach Drive, I was almost always alone. Though my mother was supposedly a “stay-at-home mom”, there was little about her that was maternal and she was rarely actually at home during the day. My parents both worked long hours (my father at his office, my mother as head of both the volunteer and fundraising committees at the local hospital) and even on weekends or in the evenings they were typically busy with various events, functions and important social gatherings. I didn’t begrudge them it. They worked hard so that we could live this kind of life, so that we were so much better off than others. I should be happy, I should be proud.
    I went through the side entrance to our home and into the small, yet fancy, mud room with its shiny, tiled floor. This room was mostly bare except for a long mirror, small side table and a large closet for shoes and coats. It was much less intimidating than the grand, front entranceway with its marble floor, gilded mirror, vaulted ceiling and chandelier. Another advantage of using this entrance was I could usually sneak past Walter. Not only was I still not entirely comfortable with our new staff members, there was also just something that didn’t sit right with me about Walter. I could think of no better way to express it than that he gave out a ‘bad vibe’.
    Today I was in luck. I made it down the hall, past the kitchen, through the dining room and up the staircase to the third floor without running into him. Eliza saw me creep past the kitchen and gave me a friendly smile to which I returned a polite nod. Though I appreciated the gesture, I knew it wasn’t proper to become too friendly with the staff.
    When I finally reached the sanctity of my room and was able to close the door behind me, I felt a faint sense of relief. Though my house may not feel like home yet, my room certainly felt like it was mine and was a safe haven of sorts, in this strange new house.
    My bedroom was much larger than the one in our old house but the furniture and arrangement of it was mostly the same as before. My queen-sized, canopy bed was pushed up against the west wall, a small night stand with a lamp and alarm clock beside it. The door to my large, ensuite bathroom with a spa-sized tub was also through the west