one
My name is Crystal Dolce, and I am anything but sweet. My last name might tell you otherwise, but anyone who knows me also knows the truth. The halls of my school know what I did, but they’re afraid to confront me. My parents know what I did, but they excuse it because, let’s face it, their reputation is hardly spotless. Around here, what I did is par for the course. Small potatoes.
But not to me.
Someone taps on my door, and I slam my laptop and grab my Gucci bag, ready for school. Royal sticks his head in. “Dad wants to talk to us,” he says, giving me a once-over and nodding his approval at my perfectly polished appearance.
“Us?” I ask. “Now? About what?”
My brother shrugs. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
“We’ll be late.”
“Dad probably doesn’t even remember that we’re in school,” Royal points out as we make our way down the hall of our swanky brownstone.
“Probably,” I admit, a knot of unease settling in my belly as I enter the kitchen.
“Where are the twins?” Daddy asks, looking up from his laptop.
My oldest brother King is already at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other.
“Coming,” Duke yells. He and Baron come thundering into the room, shoving to get through the door first.
“Sit down,” Daddy says. “I have some news, and I might as well tell you when you’re all together.”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, as if she’s ever up this early. If her weekdays are anything like the weekends, Mom prefers to take her breakfast in bed just before noon, chasing it down with a few cocktails and the pills for all her supposed ills.
“Your mother is sleeping,” Daddy says.
“What is it, then?” King asks, getting up to drop a couple bagels into the toaster. “We’ve got to get to school.”
Daddy lays his hands flat on the table and looks from one of us to the next before his announcement. “We’re moving.”
The air seems to leave the room. For a minute, no one moves. Royal stands halfway in the refrigerator, reaching for the cream cheese. Baron’s mouth drops open. Duke just blinks. King turns from the counter to stare at our father. I just sit there, too stunned to speak. At last, the toast pops up, and we all jump.
“What do you mean, moving?” King asks, tossing the bagels onto a plate. “Like, to thesuburbs?”
“We can’t leave the city,” Baron says matter-of-factly. “Manhattan is where everything happens.”
That doesn’t even begin to cover it. Manhattan is ourlives. And despite the shit that went down last spring, I never imagined leaving our school, let alone New York.
“Not to the suburbs,” Daddy says. “To Arkansas.”
“To what-the-what?” I ask.
“Like, the state?” Duke asks.
“No, dumbass, the country,” Baron says, grabbing the cream cheese and slathering a bagel half.
“Arkansas,” King says flatly. His voice sounds about as excited as I feel. I can’t think of a place less New York than freakingArkansas.I couldn’t find that state on a map if my life depended on it.
“I lived there for a while when I was a kid,” Daddy says. “And now I have a business opportunity.”
“What kind of business opportunity is in Arkansas?” King asks.
“The kind that’s too good to pass up.”
“Are you in trouble, Daddy?” I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Do you owe money to… Y’know. Thefamilies?”