Prologue - Nevaeh
Dad always saysto stay on your toes.
I keep this in mind hopping among the cement squares on the city sidewalk. The school bus only takes me so far.
The rest of the way I have to walk. Nothing to sneeze at considering it takes me almost twenty minutes. We don’t live in the best neighborhood.
I stay on my toes, moving quickly. I never really stop. I barely even breathe scurrying past strangers and heaps of garbage spilling out of aluminum cans.
During the colder parts of the year, it’s almost dark out before I make it home.
The stoop with cracked flowerpots always makes me breathe in relief. The jagged lines along the clay pots feel unique and special. They speak to me as I arrive home and skip up the steps into the apartment building. The curtain hanging at the entrance of the hall that Ms. Etienne put up almost catches on my head. I duck just in time to miss it.
Mom and Dad’s rustling echoes through the paper-thin walls. I know before even walking into our apartment that they’re on their toes too.
They’re zipping left and right, rushing from the closet to the suitcases splayed open on the floor. I’m not sure what to do, so I stay where I am and watch them.
“Nevaeh, baby,” Mom puffs, carrying an armful of folded clothes. “What are you doing just standing there? Help us pack.”
Dad pushes past Mom with a duffel slung over his shoulder. “Listen to your mother. You have three minutes to grab your things.”
My tongue feels glued to the floor of my mouth. “Th-three minutes?” I stutter. “But why?”
“You know why,” Mom snaps. “We’ve got to hurry or Nero’s men will find us.”
“Nero’s men?”
“Hurry, Nevaeh!” Dad grabs me by my arm and drags me along with him as he marches into the bedroom. “There’s no time to stand around. Get your things. You know how this goes.”
I wish I didn’t.
I do as I’m told and cram as many of my things into my backpack as possible. Mom and Dad are waiting for me in the living room. They barely speak to each other but move as two halves of one whole—they’ve perfected these moments.
There’s a closeness about them.
We’re a trio to the end. At least that’s what they’ve always said.
We scurry out the back. A plain white van waits on us. Mom sweeps me up into her arms as Dad jogs ahead to slide open the door. It’s not until I’m thrown inside the van that I realize we’ve been joined by company.
The pallid man sits in the driver’s seat. His long, skeletal fingers clench around the steering wheel. He stares in therearview mirror at me wearing a scowl. He’s not happy about the situation either.
Mom gets in the back with me. Dad takes the passenger seat up front.
The van rocks beneath me as we pull away from the curb and enter city traffic. Evenings in Dresden become increasingly dangerous. Once the lights fade away and night falls, the already beatdown city loses its way. It becomes a place ruled by criminals.
I tug on the hem of Mom’s jacket to gain her attention. She’s listening to the discussion Dad and the scowling man are having.
“Where are we going?”
“Shhh, Nevaeh. Not now.”
“But I haven’t eat?—”
“I said shhh,” she hushes. “Be quiet.”
I sigh and turn my head toward the van window. We’ve left our neighborhood far behind and are speeding into another part of the city. The dark skyline twinkles with lights. Cold air rushes the inside of the van through the tiny crack in the sunroof.
After what feels like miles, the scowling man pulls over. I climb onto my knees to press my hands and face into the glass and look outside.
