Prologue
Chapter One
Veronica
“Veve, we won’t be at the park for too long. It’s getting late, and I have to make dinner,” Mommy says with a gentle squeeze of my hand. My chin lifts to meet her loving gaze before returning to what I’m holding in my other hand. I smile, looking at the double blue Popsicle currently melting in my hand. My stomach rumbles, and I frown. I need to eat, but not dinner.
Mommy always makes chicken and rice. My frown deepens even as I lick the blue liquid running down my finger, shaking my head at the thought of eating Mommy’s cooking. I don’t like it very much. Mommy isn’t a good cook, and she tries to replicate Abuela’s1 chicken, but always fails. Unlike Abuela’s, Mommy’s chicken is tough and bland. I eat it anyway because it makes her happy. I’ll do anything to see Mommy smile more.
We just moved into a new house, and it seems nice. Mommy says it’s a fresh start for us, somewhere Daddy can’t hurt us. I’m okay with that. Daddy isn’t nice to us, especially to Mommy. He shouts. She cries. Then Mommy will have me run to my room and place her headphones over my ears. Music always helps me feel better when Mommy and Daddy fight. It’s always the same song, “Dreaming of You,” by Selena. Mommy loves Selena and Fleetwood Mac.
When I grow up, I want to marry someone who is different from Daddy. Someone kind, and someone who likes Power Rangers and Popsicle like me. He also has to like blue because it’s my favorite color; it reminds meof the ocean. Mommy promised that now that we’re far from Daddy, we can visit the beach, and I can play in the sand. Using my hand, I wipe the sweat sliding down my forehead. It’s hot out… Scrunching my nose, I inspect my Popsicle. It’s melting fast. I let out a big huff of air as a big feeling clouds my heart. Mommy always plays with me, but it would be even more fun to play with a friend.
We are new here, and since it’s summertime, there’s no school. I sigh, my small hand tightening around her gentle, warm hand. She looks down at me, stopping midway and bending to eye level. “You okay, Veve?”
I shake my head. I never lie to Mommy. “Do you think I’ll make a friend today?”
She smiles and softly pinches my cheek, making me squeal with joy. Her voice is soft and full of glee when she responds. “I have a feeling you will meet your best friend today.”
My eyes go wide at her words. “Best?”
She nods as she holds up her pinky.A promise.Mommy never breaks her promises. She promised while crying one night that she’d get us away from Daddy, and she did.
A chuckle escapes my lips because I know Mommy is right. My heart feels warm and fuzzy, the way it feels when I have Abuela’s chicken, or when Mommy gives me a tight hug. I look towards the road, and I feel something tugging at my heart, and the feeling makes my smile grow. Mommy stands, and we continue to walk across the crosswalk. My eyes grow big when I finally see the playground. There’s a tall slide, blue just like my favorite color. There’s a jungle gym that looks like a pirate ship, painted in so many colors, it looks like a rainbow threw up on it. Ilikeit. My heart dances in my chest as we approach. I even manage to pull my hand free from my mother’s.
“Okay, Ronnie. Remember our rules?”
I stop at the entrance and nod, taking in the view. My smile grows big at the sight of kids all around my age—some older, some younger, but that’s okay.When Mommy finally waves me off with a smile, I dart towards the swings, my favorite. I carefully take a seat in the hot swing and lick the side of the Popsicle.
Swinging softly, my feet dragging across the red mulch, I continue to eat my treat, hoping to find a friend I can share with quickly. Then, I spot a little boy all alone playing in the sandbox. He’s building a sandcastle with a blue shovel. He looks sad. Maybe he’s lonely and could use a friend. Quickly, I glance around the playground, and see everyone has a friend to play with, even the older kids who sit on the picnic tables, but not him. He just digs and digs.
“Mommy!” I call out to her, already climbing off the swing, my fingers sticky from the Popsicle. I have to be quick if I want to share. Mommy always says sharing is caring. Glancing over at him, I decide—I care. I look over at Mommy, who nods in approval, noticing that I want to make a friend. With a skip, I head over to the sandbox, my eyes never leaving the boy. He looks about my age, his hair a mess of black curls, with sandy fingers that skillfully mold the wet sand into tall towers and drawbridges.
“Wanna share a Popsicle?” I mutter softly, my body shifting from side to side. My stomach feels fuzzy, and my cheeks warm when he doesn’t respond. “You wanna be friends? I’m Veronica, but you can call me Ronnie.”
The boy looks up from his sandcastle, his eyes widen slightly at my offer, letting me see the golden color that reminds me of honey.
“I like Popsicle,” he says shyly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His dark hair falls into his eyes, and he absently brushes it away with a sandy hand. “ I wanna be friends too.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” he responds cheerfully while I snap them in half and offer him the other side. He dusts off his hands on his shorts, leaving streaks of sand on the denim.
“I’m Isaac… but you can call me Iz,” he says, taking the Popsicle from my hand. Butterflies dance in my stomach, making me feel giddy.Izbegins to take small licks of his melting popsicle and pats the sand beside him.
“Do you want to help me finish my castle? It needs a queen. Youcould be that.”
I look at him, feeling a rush of excitement and curiosity. “The queen of the castle?” I parrot, wide-eyed. His eyebrows furrow in earnestness as he nods, his tongue darting out briefly to catch a drop of Popsicle juice threatening to drip down his hand.
“Every castle needs a queen,” he replies.
I blink at him for a moment, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I’m sure he can hear it. “Wouldn’t the castle need a king?” I ask him shyly, holding onto my half of the Popsicle so tightly that my knuckles turn white.
He looks thoughtful for a moment before flashing me a smile. “I guess I can be your king?”
A smile spreads across my face. I like the idea of that.
Maybe Mommy was right, and today I met my best friend. But before I can agree to be his queen, there’s an important question I need to ask. Taking a seat beside Iz, I take a lick of my Popsicle before it runs down my hand. “Before I agree to be your queen, I need to know two things,” I say, holding up two fingers before him.
