1
AMARA
“There’s no place like home.”
Only a sixteen year old could make a quote fromThe Wizard of Ozsound like capital punishment, but there you go. Bella, who has been sixteen for all of one week, has already mastered the art of snark. One more life skill Manhattan has given her.
She tosses her purse onto the kitchen table. It slides across and hits the floor. I pretend I didn’t notice, and that I don’t want to wrap the strap around her neck.
I love my baby sister. I really do.
If I didn’t, she would not still be breathing.
“How was school?” I ask with the most casual tone I can muster. “Did you make any friends?”
Bella gives me a deadpan glare. “Sure.Loadsof friends. We shared chocolate milk in the cafeteria and after that, we exchanged friendship bracelets under the monkey bars.”
“Friendship isn’t just for kindergarteners, you know. You can form deep emotional connections with people even if they’ve already started shaving.”
“Ew! Gross.”
“The shaving part or the emotional connection part?” I blink innocently. Then I follow her into the hallway while she tries to outrun me. “It’s not cringe to have friends, you know!”
“Corny,” Bella calls back. “No one under the age of thirty says ‘cringe’ anymore. Even in Backwater Manhattan.”
Cool. I totally knew that.
One could say Bella has grown salty in her young adulthood. And by “salty”—if people still saythat—I mean she’s made it very clear every day for the past six months just how much she hates it here.
By the way, she’s talking about Manhattan, Montana. Not New York. Yes, it is a real place. Don’t worry, I had to look it up too.
Never did I ever think I would be packing up my three siblings and driving them across the States to a tiny town in the middle of the mountains so we could hide from the Bratva.In fact, every word of that sentence sounds crazy. And yet here we are, hunkered down in a little old house with no garbage disposal and trash cans that have bear locks on them. (Bear locks are in fact a thing. And I have them. Even though we’re nowhere near Postcard Montana, which would at least look pretty. No, ours is just Cold, Empty, No Wi-Fi Montana.)
Needless to say, we are all a bit frazzled.
“I know it’s not New York,” I tell my sister as I sort through the mountain of bills on the counter, all addressed to ErinHathaway, aka the new me. Yep—had to change my name too. We all did. We are now Erin, Kate, Noah, and Rachel Hathaway.
I suggested Anne, but no one would take it.
“No shit,” Bella pipes out as she browses the contents of the more or less empty fridge before slamming the door shut again.
“Language.”
“Nofuckingshit, Sherlock.”
God. Every day, I’m starting to soundandfeel more like a mom than an older sister. Not that our relationship has ever been normal. I’ve raised my brother and sisters. That’s just our reality. Much like us leaving my high-paying job and the only home we’ve ever known in New York city is our reality.
Turns out, reality sucks.
“I realize it’s a small town, and small towns are very different. But it’s quiet and?—”
“Quiet means safe!” someone else fills in from the door.
Eliza (aka Kate) walks in with brown bags and the unmistakable smell of Chinese food. The storm door clamors shut behind me—yes, we have bear locksanda storm door—and she sets our dinner down on the table with a smile. Through it all, I can always count on Eliza to have a smile. She’s an eternal optimist and my saving grace.
Meanwhile, Bella lets out a persecuted grown. “Really? Chinese food again?”
“It was either that or Mexican,” Eliza says with the same chipper tone. “Although, I did hear at the salon today that we might begetting a new Italian place! Can you imagine? Pizza and chicken parm like back at home!”
