Prologue
Shannon
~Age 12~
My nanny, Valerie, left over four hours ago.
She’d been in a panic because her son had gotten into a bike accident and had to be rushed to the hospital. Unable to contact my parents, which was typical when they were working, she’d instructed me to stay in the house until either she returned or my parents did.
It was starting to get dark, and the house felt too big and silent, so I’d decided to go outside to sit on the front step and watch for my parents’ cars coming up the drive. We’d only moved in three weeks ago, and this was the biggest house they’d ever bought. So big it echoed when I walked through it. We’d lived in lots of nice places over the years: a penthouse in Hong Kong, a townhouse in Copenhagen, a fancy apartment in London near Buckingham Palace. Everyone always said how lucky I was, how exciting it must be.
But the truth was, I’d trade every single one of those places if it meant we could stay put. If it meant I could actuallyseeMam and Dad for more than a rushed breakfast or a goodnight kiss when they got home late.
They said this place would be our last, our forever home, but I didn’t let myself believe them. I’d had my hopes dashed one too many times, packing up my life the second they got a new opportunity, leaving behind friends just when things started to feel normal.
I stared down the long driveway as dusk closed in, wishing this time that “forever” might actually mean something.
A few minutes later, the sound of a vehicle approached, followed by bright headlights, and my spirits lifted. Then I saw it was only a car pulling into our neighbour’s driveway. I hadn’t met them yet, but I was curious to know if there were any kids living there who were my age. It was August, so no new school for a few more weeks, nor any chance to make new friends.
Spending my days with Valerie while my parents worked was kind of lonely.
I watched as a tall man with brown hair emerged from the car. He looked around my father’s age, but that was where the similarities ended. This man wore a dark jacket and jeans and had tattoos crawling up his neck and across his knuckles. He carried a stack of pizza boxes and looked like the kind of person my parents might represent on trial for a serious crime—if they didn’t work exclusively for rich families who hired them to protect their wealth and assets, that was. At least, that’s what Mam said. I always suspected their jobs were a lot more complicated than that.
I didn’t realise he’d noticed me until he called over, “You the new kid?”
I was momentarily surprised that he was addressing me since I was so used to being ignored by the adults in my life. He had an American accent, and his warm expression somehow put me at ease. This man was no bad guy, even if his tattoos sort of made him look like one.
I nodded eagerly in response, happy that someone was acknowledging my existence after I’d been left home alone for hours. He tossed his car keys in the air before easily catching them, still holding the pizza boxes. I was impressed by his multi-tasking. “What are you, like, ten?” he went on.
I sat up a little bit straighter. “I’m twelve.”
“Oh, shit,twelve?” he replied, sounding impressed. I giggled that he had no qualms swearing in front of me. “Well, that’s justperfect. My son is twelve. You should come meet him. I bet you two will hit it off. Besides,” he went on, “we’re going to need some help eating all this pizza.”
My stomach gurgled at the mention of food. I’d never actually eaten pizza before, mainly because Mam was strict about my diet, though I’d seen people eat it on TV. Without a second thought, I stood from the step and walked around the bushes between the two houses. “You live here?” I asked when I reached him.
“For the last ten years,” he responded before opening the door. “I’m Jay, by the way. Jay Fields.”
“Shannon Guerin.”
“Nice to meet you, Shannon,” he smiled kindly, then called into the house, “Pizza’s here, and I’ve brought a guest.”
A second later, a little girl appeared at the top of the stairs. She was much younger than me, maybe five or six. She had long brown hair the same shade as Jay’s, so he was obviously her dad. She ran to him and hugged his side before turning her attention to me.
“Hello, I’m Francesca. What’s your name?”
“I’m Shannon. Pleased to meet you, Francesca.”
The little girl grinned. “You sound funny.”
A flush broke out over my skin. “I know. My accent is odd. I’ve lived in a lot of different places.”
“Like where?” came another voice, and I turned to see a boy my own age standing at the other end of the hallway. When had he gotten there? He looked like a miniature version of Jay, the same hair and eyes, even the same facial features. It was uncanny. The only difference was the dad had a normal haircut, whereas the boy’s hair was styled into a Mohawk, with the middle section dyed electric blue. It was the coolest thing I’d even seen. My parents would barely let me choose my ownoutfits, never mind let me dye my hair such an outlandish colour.
I fidgeted with the hem of my cardigan, then answered, “I was born in Hong Kong.”
The boy came closer until he was standing right in front of me. “Really? You don’t look Asian.” He tilted his head to the side, surveying me like he was trying to solve a maths problem.
His dad groaned behind him. “Jace, my guy, we talked about this. You can’t tell where someone’s from just by how they look.”
