Chapter 1: A New Roof

Owen lay on his bed, idly tossing a tennis ball against the wall. Thump. Thump. Thump. His sister Mia sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully painting her toenails a soft, girlish pink. They were both fourteen, a fact that often shocked people. Mia had been born in January, Owen the following September—a mere nine-month gap that earned them the label of “Irish twins” from their mom. Mia was technically the older sibling, but she never made a big deal about the eight months and three weeks that separated them. They were close in age but worlds apart at school. Mia lived in a realm of giggles and gossip with her friends, while Owen bonded with his over comic books and video games.

Physically, they were opposites. Owen was scrawny and slight, just over five feet, with a shock of reddish hair inherited from their father, Lester. Mia, at five-foot-four, was all willowy limbs, soft brown waves of hair, and fair, glowing skin. She had a sweet, baby face with pouty lips, a younger carbon copy of their mother, Tessa. At twenty-nine, Tessa was stunning—tall and graceful at five-foot-six, with the same brunette hair and striking features as Mia, but curved into a woman’s body. People often mistook mother and daughter for sisters.

“Think they’ll have fireworks this year at the fair?” Mia asked, her focus on the brush in her hand.

“Doubt it,” Owen replied, catching the ball. “Way too expensive.”

Their small room was divided by an imaginary line. Mia’s side was neatly ordered, stuffed animals paraded on her bed. Owen’s was a chaotic landscape of comics and discarded clothes. Despite it all, they were inseparable.

“You missed a spot,” Owen said, pointing to her foot.

Mia stuck out her tongue. “Yeah, well, maybe I should do yours. Bet you’d look cute in pink.”

“As if!” Owen threw the ball at her, and she ducked, giggling.

Their laughter died as raised voices sliced through the door from the kitchen.

“I told you, I’m trying!” their father’s voice barked, slurred and thick. “But nobody’s hiring around here! Not for what I’m qualified for!”

“Please, Lester,” their mother pleaded. “You promised you’d cut back. We need you clear-headed. The kids—”

“I don’t care what I promised!” Lester’s voice rose to a shout. “Do you have any idea how hard it is? I’ve got bills piling up, and now I’m supposed to just pick up and move across the damn state for some job that might not even pan out?”

Owen and Mia exchanged a glance, a silent conversation forged in a lifetime of whispered fears. Without a word, Mia scooted across the floor to sit beside him on his bed.

“Think he’ll start throwing things again?” she whispered.

Owen shrugged, but his grip on the tennis ball turned white-knuckled. The fights had been escalating since the layoff from his insurance job three months ago. Broken plates. A shattered ceramic rooster. A constant, suffocating tension.

A chair scraped violently across the linoleum. They both flinched.

“I can’t take this anymore!” their mother cried. “You’re not even looking for work half the time. And when you are, it’s for jobs hours away! What about the kids? Their school? Their friends?”

“Then leave! Pack up your kids and go!”

A deafening pause, then the slam of a door. Their mother’s footsteps approached, hesitant. She pushed the door open. Her eyes were red and raw, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Kids?” she said, her voice fragile. “We need to talk.”

Mia reached for Owen’s hand, squeezing tight. Her freshly painted nails dug into his skin.

“Your father...” Tessa began, then shook her head, wiping her eyes. “He’s ... he’s got some things to figure out. It’s looking like he might have to move for work. But summer’s almost here, and I don’t want to uproot you so close to the end of the school year.” She took a shaky, deep breath. “So ... you’re going to stay with your Uncle Dominic for a while. Just until ... until things settle down here.”