Prologue
Prologue
Wheels crunch on gravel. I think out of the houses we lived in so far, this is the fourth one with a gravel driveway. First, to have a wrap-around porch, and seventh, without a doggy door. So Papa will have a reason for not buying me a puppy. Again.
âIâm allergic, malyshka.â I know that he made that up. Papa is not good at telling people how he feels. He is good at getting angry, so I guess ⊠âfeelingâ is not the problem. When he blows up, itâs like watching a pot on the stove boil over.
I donât like that. The water spills everywhere and burns into the stovetop. When that happens, Mama scrubs it with the metal sponge, and the noise makes me shiver every time.
Just like the water, Papaâs anger spills everywhere. I always know when that happens because Mama comes into my room and puts the first of many boxes to pack my stuff up in on my bed.
I think you call that a âroutine.â Yup. We definitely have that. Papa gets angry, we pack up and move, I sit at a different kitchen table doing the work Mama gives me, staring out of the window, wondering if all the other kids in the street are doing the same. Sometimes, I imagine we are all just sitting there staring out the window and donât know about the millions of others out there doing the same. I feel a little better then.
But when I put my brush down in the bathroom this evening, I have a feeling things will be different here. Mama is leaning against the door frame, watching me.
âYou take very good care of your things, malyshka.â Her voice sounds weird. Like sheâs about to cry. I have only seen her cry once when Babushka died. My grandma was the only steady person in my and my Momâs life. We are not âsteady peopleâ
When she speaks Russian, I usually donât hear things like that in her voice. Papa only speaks English to me, and when heâs home, heâs the one who does all the talking. Mama doesnât get to say much. Everything I read for school is in English too. Also, I donât know if you can call working on a kitchen table doing quizzes on a laptop âschoolâ.
I get distracted from my thoughts when Mama speaks up again.
âI always just⊠wanted to take good care of you. Make you happy.â My eyebrows pull together, and I turn around to her so I can see her better.
âI know.â
Papa says that I have to respect my parents. He tells me that every day. I know my Mama loves me. For him, Iâm not sure, but I know Mama does.
âBut I donât think⊠Can you remember that for me?â
âSure, Mama.â
âGood.â She smiles at me, but it looks sad. Wiping her hand over her face, she straightens a little. âAnd because I want that, I think you should get started on packing your backpack. Canât really go to school without one now, can you?â
I stare at her for a long moment. My heart starts jumping in my chest, and I squeal. âREALLY, MAMA?!â
She chuckles, nodding her head. âReally, malyshka.â Squealing again, I jump up and down so hard the mirror rattles, and Mama starts laughing.
âOk, ok, I get that youâre excited.â
âSoooo excited.â I throw my arms around her neck, hugging her to me. She has to bend down a little, but she squeezes me tightly to her.
âThank you.â
âAnything for you, malyshka. Always.â
âŠâŠ
I packed my backpack until late at night, and I still donât feel tired. Everything is new. And I like all of it. The seatâs scratchy leather, the school busâs bright yellow. Even the little bit of bacon in Mr. Macieâs mustache. I was scared it would get blown right into my face when he grumbled âsit down alreadyâ earlier, but it didnât.
Counting the rows of seats, I decide on a spot exactly six seats in. Six is my lucky number. I push my backpack between my feet and decide that I wonât miss a thing we pass on our way to Elmengrove Middle School. I looked at pictures of it last night. Red is not my favorite color, but the brick looked nice, and I like all the plants around the big building.
A weight suddenly pushes down in the seat next to me. And Iâm blinded by white, gapped teeth when I turn to look at the girl that sat down next to me.
âHeya.â Her red curls have so many snarls in them it would take weeks to get a brush through. There are even a few twigs stuck in there. She doesnât seem bothered by it, though, her dark brown eyes sparkling. She smiles at me again.
âYouâre new here.â She doesnât ask. I guess itâs really obvious that I am. So I just nod.
âNice. I like new things.â I want to tell her that Iâm not a thing, but I donât really get a word in before there is a commotion in front.
âThe mutants have entered the bus! Run for your lives!â The boy who shouted catches a grim look from the driver.
âSit down, Carter.â
âBut sir, you canât let them in here. Maybe they have diseases. I havenât had my rabies shot in⊠I donât know-
âSit down, boy.â The manâs eyes flare golden, and the guy takes several steps back, stumbling a little. He grumbles something before he sits down a few rows before us. Now I finally see who he was talking about.
The two boys must be about my age. They look identical. Twins. I think Iâve only ever seen twins once or twice in my life. One is smiling widely, seemingly not bothered by what just happened. His brother has his shoulders pulled forward, looking at his feet.
The smiling one tugs the othersâ hand until they stop right across the aisle from us. Once they sit down, âgrumpyâ leans his forehead against the window while his brother turns to my neighbor and me. He smiles again, and I see a deep dimple on his cheek. Then he waves, his hands moving quickly. He looks at the girl next to me, and I see her hands move like his did.
After a moment, she turns back to me. âSorry, thatâs rude.â She pushes her hand out to me. âHi, new girl, Iâm Daisy.â I shake with her carefully. âKlea.â
âNice name. Where is it from?â She leans in like this is the most interesting thing she will ever learn. âDid you just move here? Which street do you live on? I live down by the forest. My parents like it quiet, but I hate it. I think Iâm going to move to a big city when Iâm older.â
Daisy talks so fast I donât have the chance to get a word in and nod along to her rambling. Someone snaps their fingers, and Daisy looks over her shoulder. The guy leans over, snapping again to get her attention.
âOh yeah, I totally forgot. Klea, thatâs Tate.â
âHi.â I donât know why my cheeks feel so warm when Tate smiles at me again. He nods, then points at his brother next to him.
âAnd thatâs Truett. Theyâre twins.â Daisy moves her hands while she talks, and Tate rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head.
âHey, I donât know if itâs obvious to her. So better over-explain.â Shrugging, she turns to me. âRight?â
âI know that they are twins. Itâs⊠I can see it.â
Daisy huffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She flops back in her seat, her eyebrows pulling together. âFine.â
I feel like a boulder drops in my stomach. I donât want to be mean to the first girl I meet on my first day of school!
âThank you, Daisy.â I smile at her widely when she turns to me. âIt was nice of you to explain. And to introduce us.â
Her face wrinkles when she starts laughing. âIntroduce you? Wow, you know fancy words.â
I grin back at her. âI got bored.â
âWhen I get bored, I fold paper planes. Or grow mulch in Mr. Sniderâs desk drawer.â
When I stare at her, she leans in and whispers in my ear. âForest fairy.â Then she winks. âBut your magic seems nice too.â
âMyâŠ?â
âYour magic.â Daisy keeps smiling at me. âDonât worry. Youâre safe here. A lot of us have magic, actually.â
Iâm still too shocked to talk. âMr. Macie is a bear shifter, for example. And Tate and Truett are werewolves.â I look over at them. They look like ordinary boys to me.
I watch Truett pull out a textbook while his brother leans back in his seat, just smiling and staring at the ceiling. Then our eyes meet for a moment, and my cheeks are flaming hot again.
âYou can have Tate.â I jolt and look back at Daisy. My new friend winks again. âBut Truett is mine.â
::::::::::::
My hands shake with nervousness, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. At least Iâm not nauseous right now. I let my eyes fly over the bagâs contents again before pulling the zipper and going over to the window as quietly as possible.
Pushing up the wooden frame, I quickly turn off the security system before I drop the bag into a bush. Or at least I hope it was a bush. The soft thud⊠na, itâs alright.
I turn around, picking my shoes from the small wall closet. Once I straighten, I give myself a once over in the mirror. My hands brush over the soft baby blue fabric of my dress. Then I blow out a breath and open the door.
âOne night, Iliya! Itâs one night.â My Momâs voice carries up to me. âSheâs eighteen. She should be having fun with her friends.â
âSheâs not in a position to have âfunâ! Or friends. Let alone a boyfriend!â
âOh, grow up! Tate is a nice young man!â Rounding the banister at the top of the stairs, I first glimpse my parents. My Mom has her hands pushed to her sides, her dark hair mussed from all the angry gesturing and head motions. Dad just came home and is just now pulling off his tie with equal fury.
When I was younger, his anger would scare me so much. Now I know that he hides fear behind it. He tries to use it to control Mom and me, and I hate him even more for it.
âHe can be a nice f*cking guy over at his pack!â Dadâs hands fly to the buttons on his coat while he kicks off his shoes. âHe can be Alpha and impregnate some dumb little b*tch as often as he likes, reigning over his little kingdom of puppies. But heâs not getting my daughter.â
âYoursâŠâ Momâs voice sounds raspy, and everything in me clenches tightly when I see my father take a threatening step toward her.
âYes, mine.â He growls. âMine to take care of, mine to protect, mineâ
âTo pawn off for the right amount of money.â
My stomach drops to my knees when heâs suddenly quiet. Itâs not like I didnât know that. I found the written agreement weeks ago.
âHow much?â Itâs hard to hear Momâs whisper over Dadâs heavy breathing. He doesnât answer.
âQuater million? More?â Her hands ball into fists. âANSWER ME?! How much is the old Artesian giving you to marry our only child off to his nephew, huh?â When he still doesnât answer, I see her take a step forward.
âYouâre a pathetic little man, Iliya Marku.â Then itâs so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Only my blood is rushing in my ears while I try to stand as still as possible, not to attract attention.
âI tell you what.â Mom is the first one to speak again. âIâll help you get her to agree to it. She listens to me. But I want something in return.â
Ice incases my insides, and my heart stutters in my chest. Until tonight, I would have sworn my Mom was the one person apart from Daisy and Tate I could always rely on. And now sheâs selling me out.
âYou let her go to her prom tonight.â She lifts a hand when Dad tries to protest. âIâm not done.â The cold in Momâs voice is new. Nothing I have ever heard before.
âYouâll let her go to prom with her boyfriend. She gets to slow dance and make out in some dingy truck. And then we will tell her. I get her to agree, and ⊠you give me half of what you get.â
âThatâs justâ
The step under my right foot creaks. Iâve heard enough. I need to get out of here. And the only way out is past them.
âKlea.â Dad immediately switches to English when he spots me, and Mom whirls around, giving me a crooked smile. Fake as they come. I shoot an equally plasticity one back and twirl, pretending to show off my dress.
âWhat do you think?â
âBeautiful.â Mom steps closer, cupping my cheek. âTy tak prekrasna, dorogaia.(Youâre so beautiful, darling.)
My skin burns where she touches me, and I have to suppress the urge to flinch away when she rubs her thumb over my cheekbone.
Instead, I smile at her. You can do thisâjust a few more minutes.
Mom sighs, letting go of my face and patting my shoulder. When I turn around to my father, he looks at me icily, then gives me a nod. Nothing new.
âRazvlekaites. Uvidimsia v 11 chasov.(Have fun. Weâll see you at 11.)â Mom grabs my hand and squeezes it, and I shoot her a smile before taking my favorite jacket off the hanger and turning to the two of them.
âSpasibo.â (Thank you.) I smile at them. âSpasibo za vse. İa liubliu tebia.â ( Thank you for everything. I love you.)I only look at Mom when I say that.
And I see her tear up a little when I pull the door closed behind me after waving at her and Dad, his hands pushed deep in his pockets, a cold look on his face.
It takes everything in me not to sprint down the driveway. I know they are watching me through the window. So I walk over to the Chevy as slowly as possible, pulling the door carefully when I reach.
I wait until I closed it again to turn around and look at the driver.
Tate gives me a wide smile, the dimple appearing on his cheek again. And no matter how many times I have seen it over the eight years Iâve known him now, it still makes my heart skip a beat.
âYou look beautiful, my heart.â
I grin back at him, feeling my cheeks heat.
âToo bad we are wasting it on a road trip.â I sign. âGonna be all wrinkled.â
A dark look flashes in his eyes, and I reach my hand over the middle console to grab his. âI donât regret a thing.â
Tate huffs, shaking his head, and the guilt in his eyes weighs so heavy that Iâm sure you can cut the tension rolling off him with a knife.
âNone of this is your fault.â I try again. But Tate shoots me a small smile, kisses the back of my hand, and then shifts his car into drive.
âLetâs pick up your stuff.â
Once we reach the street corner, we stop, and the back door gets pulled open as soon as we do.
âWhat the hell did you pack in there? Cobblestones?â Daisy pushes her wild curls back, grunting as she drops my back next to herself. When our eyes meet in the review mirror, I see in hers what has been brewing in me for a while. Fear. And she wouldnât be Daisy if she didnât try to brush over it with humor.
She clears her throat, and I envy her for how steady her voice sounds after that. Mine is still all closed up.
âYour parents didnât see me. And I made sure to not trip the alarms and avoid the cameras.â
Daisy puts a hand on my shoulder, and I grab hers and squeeze hard. There are so many things I want to say. But right now just doesnât feel like the right time. The hand not holding onto my best friend shakes so hard I push it under my thigh for it to stop. F*ck, Iâm scared out of my mind.
âI canât believe you are making me lie to my mate,â Daisy grumbles, signing along for Tate, who turned around. âIf youâre brother ever finds out about this, he will hate me.â
âDaisyâ
âNope. I donât want to hear it.â She wipes her eyes once, then quickly picks something out of her pocket.
âMiss D. gave me this. She said you should call the guy whenever you are in trouble. Anything you need, heâll know how to fix it.â
I stare at the small note in my guidance counselorâs impeccable handwriting.
Roan
+1 334 4895037
Sheâs the only one who knows what weâre going to do. Where weâre going.
I feel my friend squeeze my hand again. âI should get going.â I want to scream for her not to. That she has to come with us. That Iâll definitely not be able to do this by myself. When I look over at Tate, I remember that Iâm not alone.
His warm hand lands on my thigh, and just this gesture is enough to have me straighten a little in my seat, shooting my friend a teary smile.
âIâm going to miss you so much. I already do.â
âDamn, I hoped so.â Daisy pulls me in for an awkward hug with the seat half between us. Then she leans over, punching Tateâs shoulder.
âTake care of them. Please.â
He nods at her, squeezing my thigh as we watch our childhood friend hop out of the car and disappear into the dark, getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.
My face feels hot, and I stare out the window, ignoring my vision getting blurrier and blurrier. Until the car suddenly stops, and Iâm pulled into a tight hug. My head falls against Tateâs chest, and I sob, my hands clutching the soft cotton of his shirt.
Heâs so warm and feels so much like home that it only makes me cry harder.
We sit like this for several minutes before I clear my throat, squeeze him once, and then lean back.
âThank you.â I make sure he can read my lips in the dark car.
âAlways.â He mouthes it back to me, and I know how uncomfortable that makes him usually. Once Iâve wiped my face, I sit back and look at him.
Iâm so damn lucky that Iâve found him. That I get what my parents told me I would never find and I should probably stay away from. From the first day I saw him on the bus, I knew something big would happen between us. I could sense it. He did too. At least, thatâs what he says now. Daisy is convinced the guys were clueless until we kissed them in unison in 6th grade. I grin to myself, remembering my friend.
Then my eyes find Tateâs. He reaches over, and I know what he will do next. Leaning in, he fist bumps my stomach. The sheepish smile on his face is the cutest thing Iâve ever seen, and I tear up again. So much so that I almost donât see his hands move.
âReady for an adventure, little heart?â