unceremoniously dumped into the vicious foster-care cycle. When I was seven, Mom and Dad decided they wanted another child. They might have started out looking for a baby, as most adoptive parents do. Then we met Thane.
Everything changed.
He had been picked up off the street, found sleeping in an alley with a mangy mutt curled up against his belly for warmth. We went to see him at the adoption agent’s house where they were keeping him until a foster home could be found. He was sitting in the chair next to the fireplace, feet pulled up in front of him and chin resting on his knees. He didn’t say a word, just looked up as Mom and Dad approached, not betraying an ounce of the joy I knew had to be bursting inside. I’m sure he didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have his heart broken again.
I think it was those big gray eyes, a few shades darker than my own, that drew them in.
The agent said a lot of couples weren’t interested because he was so quiet. They worried he might be brain damaged or mentally deficient. Their loss, because we are so lucky to have him.
Besides getting adopted myself, he’s the best thing that ever happened in my life.
Even when he’s mad at me.
“Hey, stranger.”
“Ack!” I jump at the sound of Milo’s voice, knocking my head against the underside of the freezer door. “Ow.”
“Sorry,” he says, reaching out to gently rub the place where I hit my head. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. I lift my hand to the spot, careful not to touch his but hyperaware that our fingers are only millimeters apart. “Just fine.”
I might have a massive knot there in the morning, but for right now I am absolutely fabulous. He’s standing oh so close, with his hand on my hair, his pale eyes gazing into mine with worry. I could melt into the floor.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulls his hand away, and my head suddenly feels cold.
“No problem.” I drop my hand too, even though my skull is throbbing as if the blood is going to burst out at any second. I don’t want to look dumb, standing there holding my head.
“Wanted to grab another soda.” He reaches around me into the fridge and pulls out a can of Coke.
I’m grinning and nodding like a fool as he turns away.
Then he suddenly turns back. “Hey, I saw you in school today.”
“What?” I shake my head. “You were at Alpha?”
“No, at Euclid.” He looks adorably confused. “I got a library pass in third period and I saw you in the hall. You didn’t even say hi. Why’d you take off like that?”
“That’s im—”
Holy goalie. Gretchen! He must have seen Gretchen.
I knew this was going to be complicated.
As soon as I saw her walking into Thane’s school, I should have known this would happen. But no, I was too caught up in my hurt feelings over her dismissal and my guilt over slinking away like a coward. Sometimes I’m such an idiot.
I’m probably lucky they haven’t run into each other before. If Milo weren’t a year older or their school weren’t so big, I’m sure they would have already met.
“It must have been someone who looked kinda like me,” I finally say. “I was at Alpha all day.”
Both statements are true. I just leave out the part where I know exactly who he saw, and that she looks more than
“Must have been.” He shakes his head, like he knew it couldn’t have been me but he was sure it was. “Weird.”
“Yeah,” I say with a forced laugh. “Weird.”
He heads back into the dining room and I close the refrigerator door. This can only get worse. If Milo can run into her in the hall that easily, then Thane can too. Eventually he is going to see her, and he won’t be as easy to convince as Milo. We’ve sat across the dinner table for almost ten years. If he and Gretchen wind up face-to-face, he’ll know.
I need to talk to her about this.
Plus this is the perfect excuse to go see her again. Because if there is anything I’ve realized in the days since she dumped me back home on Friday night—especially after seeing that scorpion thing out in the daylight today— it’s that I’m not content to walk away and pretend that she doesn’t exist.
It might be complicated and dangerous and completely out of my comfort zone, but I have a sister and I’m not losing her right after finding her. I’m tired of being the gutless doormat. It’s time I found a spine and figured out how to use it.
“Mom,” I call out as I walk into the master bedroom. “Are you in here?”
“In the bathroom, honey.”
I follow the sound of her voice and find her squeezing caulk around the edge of the bathtub. The painting is done, and now she’s doing finishing touches in the bathroom. I’m not sure what’s left on her to-do list, but it can’t be much.
“It’s looking great,” I say.
“Thanks.” She beams, with a smear of caulk across her cheek.
I motion for her to wipe it off, and as she grabs for a rag I ask, “Is it okay if I go over to a friend’s house to do homework?”
“What’s her name?” Mom’s efforts only make the caulk smear worse. “Where does she live?”
“Gretchen. And not far,” I fib. Nothing’s far in San Francisco if you catch a bus. “We’re in a lot of the same classes, so it will really help as the school year goes on.”
I’m a little surprised at how easily the lies fall out of my mouth.
“Okay,” she relents after a moment of hesitation. “Be home for dinner.”
“Mom,” I whine. “We won’t have time to get anything done.”
She heaves a sarcastic sigh and drops her rag. “Fine, be home by ten. And call when you’re on your way.”
“Thanks.”
I’m gone before she can change her mind. As I dart through the dining room, I throw a glance at the boys. Milo’s dark head is bent over a book. Thane catches my eye and lifts his brows in question.
“Going to a friend’s,” I explain quickly. “See you later.”
“Grace,” Thane says, and I spin back to face the table. “Be careful.”
His dark-gray eyes are guarded and intense.
“I—” For some reason, I can’t just give him a glib reassurance that I’ll be fine. “I will.”
He nods, apparently satisfied with my answer, and turns his attention back to his book. I grab my backpack to make it look good, even though I have no intention of studying with Gretchen, and hurry to the closest bus stop. I’ve been putting this off for three days, but now that the decision is made, I’m anxious to talk to her—just to
I’m not sure which buses to take to get to her pier, but I’ll ask the driver. They should know, right?
My heart starts pounding at the thought of seeing Gretchen again. I’m not big on confrontation, and I have a feeling she’s not going to be too thrilled to see me again. But for once in my life, I’m going to stand up for something. For myself. I hope she doesn’t slam the door in my face.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell myself. “I mean, we’re obviously sisters. She can’t dismiss that. She can’t shut me out forever.” A wave of doubts washes over me. “Right?”
I sense another person stepping up beside me at the bus stop, but I keep my eyes straight ahead. After only a few days in the city I’ve learned that making eye contact can be dangerous. When Thane and I went to the grocery store the day after moving in, we ran into a woman on the street who shouted at us and shot an imaginary pistol in my face. I was terrified. Thankfully, Thane grabbed my wrist and dragged me down the block.
Since then, I keep my eyes averted as much as possible.
“Which bus goes to the Presidio?” the person asks.
“Um, I’m not sure,” I say, unable to ignore a direct question. “I’m new in town and I haven’t really—”
I freeze when look up at the person next to me and see that it’s not a person at all, but a woman with the
