Chapter 1: Liam — 8th grade, October

My bones and muscles ached. My head was pounding. My ribs were definitely bruised, if not worse. All because I was the new kid. The new kid with the holes in his shoes and a jacket two sizes too big and worn-out jeans.

At my grandmother’s recommendation, I’d gone out to a football game. She swore I’d leave with at least one new friend. She was right, but she neglected to mention that I’d meet said new friend because he was the only one that stopped to help as I was getting my ass kicked. It was weird getting saved by a preppy looking kid, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to turn down help as I lay on the ground, hugging my knees and trying not to puke when I got kicked in the stomach. Again.

I figured the blonde kid would run the guys off and just leave, but no. Instead, I ended up at his house, in his kitchen, with his mom holding a bag of frozen peas to my face while I held the other to my ribs. And that is the exact position I was in when she walked in. She walked in… and nothing hurt anymore.

She took one look at me, turned to her brother, and said, “You know, you can just ask people to be your friend. You don’t have to kidnap them.”

Jackson grinned and said, “Al, this is Liam. He’s new to our school, and I saved him, thank you very much. Liam, this is my pain in the ass—”

“Jackson Lee!”

“Sorry, Momma. Liam, this is my sister, Allison.”

“Alis,” she said, and she held her hand out to me. It was small. Too small. It looked like the tiniest, most fragile thing I’d ever seen in my life, but it almost filled my own when I shook her hand.

“Liam,” I said, like a jack ass. Jackson had just told her my name; I didn’t need to repeat it.

“Right.” She grinned at me before turning back to her brother. “I’m guessing your damsel in distress is spending the night. Do you want me to grab the fort blankets?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. Hot chocolate?”

“Of course.”

“Liam?”

“I’m good, thank you,” I said around the peas their mother was smooshing all over my face.

“He’s wrong,” Alis said. “Make him some too while I grab the blankets.”

She turned and strode out the door while Jackson shrugged. “Guess you’re getting one today, man. Gotta pick your battles.”

“Well, I guess my work here is done,” their mother said. “The next time I pick you boys up from a football game, I expect there to be no damage to either of your faces or hands.” She removed the peas from my face and threw the bag back in the freezer.

The next time. Like it had been the plan all along. Like she was already counting on me staying around.

Like I was welcome with them.

“I think we’re done with games for a while, Momma,” Jackson said, pulling mugs out of a cabinet.

“Good. I told you it was full of wanna be badasses. There’s freezer pizzas and hot dogs if you get hungry, and I’ll be in my room if you need me. Goodnight, boys.”

We said goodnight to his mom. Jackson finished making hot chocolates, and Alis returned just long enough to tell us she got the blankets and take her drink. I bit my tongue before I could ask her if she wanted to hang out with us. It wasn’t my place, and it seemed odd. Plus, I seriously doubted she wanted to hang out with the new kid who had just gotten his ass kicked and her brother brought home out of pity.

Jackson looked at me, thought for a second, and then called his sister back into the room. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“How’s seventh grade going for you?” Jackson asked her.

“Fine. Makenzie is being a real bitch these days, but other than that everything is okay. My plant science teacher is also kind of creepy. She kind of looks like a vampire; Sarah thinks so too. I almost got in trouble for drawing on the desk, but I convinced the teacher it was there when I sat down.”

“What were you drawing?”

I’d blurted it out before I thought better of it. The room stood still, and my question hung in the air. The faintest pink painted Alis’s cheeks, and my gaze kept flicking from her to her brother. I hadn’t meant to ask. I meant to stay quiet, to let her talk as long as she wanted, to pray that she let me exist near her as long as possible. The question had flown out of my mouth before I could stop it.

She held my gaze for a few moments before she answered. “A kraken. We watched Clash of the Titans a few days ago, and I’ve been obsessed with them lately. Anyway…” She started rambling on about the rest of her week in school, and I hung onto every word while fighting to keep the awe off my face.

When she yawned twice in a row, Jackson finally sent her to bed. He showed me where the bathroom and living room were, and we settled in for the night. He gave me the couch and slept on the floor. I offered to switch a dozen times, but he swore it was good for his back.

The next morning, I was the first one awake, and I decided to make coffee to show my appreciation. I tiptoed around Jackson’s sprawled form into the kitchen. Finding everything I needed was easy; their kitchen was set up the exact way I’d done it at my house. When the coffee finished brewing, I washed our hot chocolate mugs from the night before, set them on the counter in front of the coffee maker, and returned to the living room. Jackson was awake when I got back.

“Hey, man, I thought you were in the bathroom. Where’d you go?”

“I made coffee.”

“You didn’t have to do that. You’re a guest. But since you did…” Jackson stood and stretched. “Let’s get it.”

I tried not to focus too much on the word guest. I hated it, but I was attached to them. Their mom had been so nice to me the night before, and it seemed like I fit in with them. I wondered if I actually did, or if I was just grasping at straws that would hopefully pull me up into a better life than the one I’d been living.

In the kitchen, Jackson pulled down a fourth mug from the cabinet and poured his coffee into it.

“Are the coffee mugs different than the hot chocolate mugs?” I asked.

“No, but there’s five people, and Al and Momma are too short to reach the top shelf. Here,” he said as he handed me another mug from the cabinet.

“I didn’t know your sister drank coffee,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

“Momma’s not thrilled about it, but she started drinking coffee at thirteen, so she says there’s not much she can say about Al drinking it.”

We milled around the house for a while before Mrs. Stevens asked if we wanted to go get ice cream. She said she wanted to get to know me better. I was helping Jackson put the blankets away before we left when I asked him if Alis could come too.

I shouldn’t have. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I should have played it cool and done everything I could to pretend like my heart didn’t seize every time she entered a room, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d met Jackson first, so I knew I couldn’t make a move on his sister. Even if he told me it was alright, I wouldn’t want to. She was too sweet, too pure, too good for me to contaminate. But I could still see her. I could listen to her and protect her. I did my best to play it off like offering was the nice thing to do.

He looked me up and down, thoroughly analyzing me, before he agreed and left to fetch his sister. He left me alone for my guilt and joy to war with each other. He returned with her a few minutes later, and she’d pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me coming?” she asked.

At my puzzled expression, Jackson said, “I told her I didn’t want her to feel left out, and you said it was fine when I asked if she could tag along.”

“Right. Totally fine,” I said.

In the car, Alis sat in the front seat, and Jackson sat with me in the back. That didn’t stop her from talking, though. She gave me a thorough description of the ice cream shop we were going to, a list of their best flavors, and several stories about her friends puking after they ate too much ice cream. We were almost there when she ran out of ice cream anecdotes and switched to asking me questions about myself.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked. Because every thirteen-year-old girl asks.

“Gray.”

Jackson looked at me quizzically. “I thought it was green,” he said, eyeing my pants, hoodie, and backpack.

“It used to be,” I said simply. Everything I said back then was simple. Short. To the point. The exact opposite of the constant stream of bullshit that flowed through my brain.

“When did it change?”

“Recently.”

Mrs. Stevens cast a quick glance at me in the rearview mirror before mumbling “I bet it did.”