PROLOGUE
Enzo
Ten years ago
My suitcase wheel is broken, so now I’mthat person—the one dragging a garish orange eyesore across the cobblestones while Concord University looms around us looking tasteful and ivy-covered and disapproving.
Nothing can stop my older sister Gaby from beaming. She stretches out her arms, and her long dark curly hair flutters in the wind. “You’re in college!”
Half the quad looks in our direction, probably wondering if I’m intellectually or financially or socially impaired.
“I’m so proud of you.” She looks like she’s about to burst into a song à laEnchanted.
The students wear pastel-colored clothes with alligators and whales, the uniform of people who’ve never set foot in Kohl’s. Some guys play frisbee in the quad, and I withdraw my gaze from their bodies a few moments too late.
The nice thing about hockey—well, one of the many, many nice things about hockey, is that you’re covered when you play. My eyes aren’t going to linger somewhere they shouldn’t.
I think I’m gay, but I’m not sure. I’ll figure that out here.
Gaby points. “That’s your dorm.”
“Yeah.” I try to nod cheerfully and pretend I’m the sort of person who lives in a brick building with actual ivy on it, and not the sort of person who lives in the projects.
Students and parents file in, dragging suitcases over the historic wooden floors, and I look away, because Mom is supposed to be here. If Gaby hadn’t fought hard for custody of me three years ago after Mom died, I don’t know what would have happened to me.
“Enzo Bellanti,” Gaby tells the student worker, and we get a key in a brown envelope and neon paper gleefully exclaiming in bold and italics how wonderful everything will be.
We make our way to my room. My roommate hasn’t arrived, and I eye the two long beds.
It’s going to be weird to share a room. I’ve only done it a few times on hockey overnight trips.
I’m going to live with this person. I hope he’s nice. All I know is his name: Axel Knight.
“This is amazing,” Gaby squeals.
“Uh-huh.” I eye my room and pretend I’m not nervous.
Gaby never went to college. She started working as a CNA at a nursing home straight out of high school. Maybe she wanted to go to college. Maybe if I hadn’t shown such promise in hockey, she would have.
Gaby helps me unpack. Finally, she sighs. “I have to drive back for my shift.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
Gaby will always be here for me.
“Hey. I got some fruit for you.” She removes a container from her bag and places it on my desk. “Grapes.”
I smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I did it because I’m an amazing sister.”
“Youarean amazing sister. I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t make me cry.” Her smile wobbles.
All the other parents are going to drive home together, probably reminiscing about their kids.
Gaby can’t.
