Chapter three
Paxton Ross
Nothinglikedeathtotell me who my friends and family are.
The social worker droned on about a guardian, but I couldn't stop staring at an old copy of aRolling Stonemagazine on his desk. Viktor Farrow, with one hand on the neck of his guitar and his other arm slung around a dark-haired female, gave the camera a smirk.
Will I always be this lost boy who needs to rely on charity to rise from poverty?
"Paxton, are you listening?" The gray-haired man—Arthur, his name is Arthur—raised his eyebrows and peered at me over his glasses. "One of your dad's friends has stepped up and has agreed to foster you. And even better? He's quite a well-known figure in the financial circles, so no more living on the streets. Great news, huh?”
I shrugged, returning my attention to the cover of the magazine.
How long will it last, though?
Chapter four
Terri Kingston
ThreedaysafterDad’sbig announcement, Lana and I waited in the living room with Moira, who’d been our nanny since I was old enough to remember.
“Stop fidgeting, girls.” Her voice, high and sweet, held a note of amusement. “One would think you two never have company.”
“We don’t,” I said, smoothing the frilly pink dress Mom insisted I wear, along with a matching bow in my hair. “Well, not very often.”
This was the truth. I didn’t have many close friends at school, except for Rebecca, and my parents didn’t approve of me hanging out with her because in their eyes, her family carried a bad reputation for living in the poor part of town. As if that one fact tainted the entire family.
So, Rebecca and I hung out at school because they’d never allow her over for sleepovers, and most certainly would die of shame or horror if I were to even suggest staying over at her place.
“I’m bored,” Lana whined, tugging on my hand as we peeked through the curtains of the front window, waiting for Dad’s black Land Rover to pull into the drive.
Outside, the sun beat down on the careful desert landscaping in the yard. The bright rays of light reflected off the gawdy three-tiered fountains on each side of the curving stone walkway.
“Shh.” I shook her fingers from my palm and patted the humongous bow in my hair, ensuring it didn’t fall, fighting an urge to rip it out and stomp on it.
I’m fifteen years old, yet Mom still thinks I should dress like a child.Closing the curtain, I walked across the polished dark wood floor and plopped onto the plush beige couch, my stomach a twisting ball of nerves.
What will Paxton think when he sees us? Will he be glad to have a new family?
Lana followed behind, chewing on her thumbnail. “When are they gonna get here? I’m sick of waiting.”
“Then go up to your room and read a book or draw a picture.”Anything to get you out of my hair.
“Now, Terri, your mother said she wanted both of you here and ready to greet your new foster brother.” Moira gestured to Lana to come closer, then rubbed a smudge from my sister’s cheek. “They should be here any min—”
The slam of a car door broke off her sentence and I jumped to my feet, my stomach flipping over itself like a tiny boat tossing on the ocean.
“Yay! They’re here.” Lana beamed her missing-tooth smile then raced to the closed front doors.
“Lana. Hold on,” I yelled as I chased after her, managing to nab the collar of her dress as she grabbed the handle and twisted.
At the same time, Dad must’ve pushed, because she fell against my chest and knocked me off balance. We went tumbling to the floor of the foyer in a mess of skirts and tangled feet.
Hot air from the outside blasted over my bare legs. My stupid, ugly, annoying dress had ridden up to expose my thighs…and my underwear, too.
Lana, unperturbed, scrambled off me, exposing even more of my skin.
Dad cleared his throat as he looked down at my sprawled form.
