Prologue
Merci
It’s strange here, in the Knight Manor. It’s too big, too fancy, too perfect. Nothing like the cramped apartment where I could hear every creak of the floor, every muffled argument through the walls, every siren blaring outside the windows. The silence is loud in this place, and I’m no more than a speck lost inside of it.
I don’t belong.
My fork clinks against my plate as I push the last bits of dinner around. The food tasted fine, but everything here is so foreign that it might as well have come from another planet.
Across the table, Mr. Knight—my new stepfather—checks his phone, his thumb tapping the screen, texting in that quiet yet forceful way that says someone’s in deep shit. I don’t know him well enough to read all his moods, but tonight, even I can tell he’s frustrated.
Mom shifts beside me, her fingers twisting in her lap like always when she’s nervous. It’s been two months in this house, and she’s still figuring out how to fit in. Just like me. While Mr. Knight is nothing like my real dad, it’s hard to shake off all those years of abuse.
Mr. Knight’s eyes flick to the empty chair across from me, then back to his phone. “Where the hell is my son?”
Mom offers a weak smile. “He’s probably—”
“No.” He shakes his head, firmly cutting her off. “He knew tonight mattered.”
My stomach twists and clenches. Tonight. Because it’s my birthday—a day that only serves as a reminder that things don’t work out.
My real dad hated me. He hated that I was even born. And he made sure to tell me every chance he got. My birthday was one of those special days he loved to rub it in.
Mom was never allowed to get me gifts, and if she did, he’d beat the fuck out of her, then throw whatever present she got away. She never stopped getting them. Except, whenever I saw a wrapped gift hidden in my drawer, I threw up, knowing what it would lead to. And although we finally left my father and we were free to celebrate my birthdays, the fear remained.
Today is no different. Fear hovers like a shadow. And my new stepbrother not being here only makes it worsebecause it’s pissing off my stepfather. The last thing I want is for Zach to get in trouble.
Not that I owe him anything. We only met a month ago. He’s a skilled hockey player who plays for a team in Massachusetts, so he boards with a family there. But the season is over and he’s back home.
Sometimes, I think he hates me. Most of the time, he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. Maybe he wants nothing to do with me because he’s seventeen and I’m only in tenth grade. High school social dynamics suck ass.
Mr. Knight grumbles and drops his phone on the table causing the silverware to rattle.
I flinch, then stare at the cake in the middle of the table, perfectly frosted, candles unlit. I’m fifteen today and shouldn’t feel like a terrified little kid anymore.
But I do.
Mom and Mr. Knight wanted to take me out to eat, but I nearly had a panic attack when they mentioned the idea. Okay, I did have a panic attack. So, they decided to keep things small and at home. I wouldn’t be surprised if my therapist suggested the latter of the two ideas.
My stepfather’s gaze softens when it meets mine. “I’m sorry, Merci. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just really wanted this to be perfect for you. For us to celebrate you as a family.”
“It’s fine,” I whisper, hoping to disappear with my words.
“No, it’s not. I hope one day you’ll learn how much you deserve and that my son’s behavior is unacceptable.” He smiles and gets up from the table, returning a second later with matches. “C’mon. Let’s enjoy some cake.”
While he lights the candles, Mom disappears into another room only to come back carrying gifts. My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat.
I focus on the bright flickering candles as they sing “Happy Birthday” and try to focus on thatthingyou’re supposed to do when you blow them out. The problem is, I’ve never really had much luck with wishes. Or with anything, really.
My breath catches as I lean forward, make a wish I don’t believe in, then blow out the candles. The flames sputter out, and Mom claps while Mr. Knight rests a warm and steady hand on my shoulder.
“I hope you get everything you wish for, sweetheart.” Mom kisses my forehead.
Just as I’m about to respond, the front door slams, the noise so sudden it makes me jump. All of us turn just as my stepbrother stomps past.
“Zach,” Mr. Knight calls, his voice tight. He strides after Zach, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor. “Get back here.”
My stepbrother doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look back. The only response any of us get is the fading sound of his footsteps on the hardwood as he makes his way upstairs.
