He trots across our lawn, picks up the ball, and draws back like he’s going to throw a long, spiral pass toward his house. Just before he completes the pass, he hesitates. Lowering the ball, he turns slowly. My body freezes, but my heart races. Every part of me knows that I should duck back into the shadows on the balcony, that I shouldn’t let the careless-driving, football-tossing insomniac neighbor see me watching him.
And yet.
For one reckless moment, I want something other than what is. I don’t want to be Crystal Dolce, darling daughter of a possible mob family and coddled sister of four very dangerous boys. I don’t want to be the mean girl who did a terrible thing, or the one who’s off limits to every boy if they want to live. I don’t want to be the Queen B or cheerleader.
I want to be seen. I want to be a girl standing in my silk robe in the moonlight, with my disheveled hair streaming in the hot midnight wind and the moon making me luminous. I want to be a mystery to him, too. I want him to see me and want to solve this mystery.
His eyes settle on mine, and he stills. For a long moment, no one moves. The see-saw music of the crickets falls away. The shimmering moonlight disappears. The suffocating heat of the night dissipates, and the wind dies. There is only us, suspended in time, in place. I sink into the ocean depths of his eyes, plunging deeper and deeper below the surface until nothing else exists.
The crunch of tires on gravel invades our world, the one we built for only us. Headlights sweep across the front of our house, and I glance that way to see Daddy’s car pulling into the drive. When I turn back, the boy is gone, leaving me to wonder if I dreamed the moment with him.
*
“Crys, what are you doing?” King asks, banging on my bathroom door.
“I’m changing my tampon, what do you think?” I yell, shoving my phone into my pocket.
“Let’s go,” he says. “It’s time.”
“Time to dominate,” Duke yells, thudding a fist against my door.
I take one last look at myself in the mirror. For a minute, I considered changing my image. But I’ve been this person so long, I don’t know what else to be. Maybe it’s who I really am. Pretty. Spoiled.
Mean.
At any rate, I look the same as I’ve always looked. I don’t dare change my image. I thought, for a minute, I might be a girl who wore slouchy sweats, oversized T’s, and messy buns. But my brothers wouldn’t let me out of the house like that. We have an image to uphold. Dolces take care of themselves and each other. Looking the part is half the battle.
I run a brush through my dark locks, straightened to perfection after an hour of work. Collecting my hair into a long, low pony, I drape it forward over one shoulder. After smoothing on a thin layer of product to enhance the shine and tame flyaways, I head out of my bathroom.
My brothers step back and look me over. They’ve all gathered outside my door wearing slacks and buttoned shirts to fit the dress code. I feel bad for them having to wear pants and long-sleeved shirts in this heat.
“Is that lipstick too dark?” King asks.
“It’s what I always wear,” I tell him, making a kissy-face. “My signature.”
“Is that skirt shorter than your uniform at our old school?” he asks, eyeing my hemline.
I’m excited to be able to wear real clothes here, since Willow Heights has a strict dress code but no uniform. “Stop looking at my legs, perv,” I say, pushing past them and out of my bedroom.
By some silent agreement, we all climb into Royal’s new Range Rover, a “gift” from Daddy that was more like a bribe to come here without making a fuss. I’d expected them to each take their own car to show off, but maybe my brothers are as nervous as I am.
They’d never show it, though.
“Look at this pathetic little town,” Duke says as we pull out of our opulent neighborhood and start toward the school. “We’re going to rule this school the second we step through the doors.”
“Not me,” I say, my voice sounding light though I was too nervous to even think about breakfast. If I’ve learned anything in the past year, it’s that power can be a dangerous thing. I don’t want to rule anymore, and I told my brothers as much. They don’t get it, but they’re trying to be understanding. They’ve never wanted to be normal. They love the power.
I have to admit, I loved it, too. I loved it until the moment I saw what it could do. Until the moment I lost control of it. But here? No one knows me. I could be normal. Have a friend who didn’t know the worst things about me, our shared guilt hanging between us like a noose. Maybe I could even have a boyfriend, someone my brothers actually liked instead of one they allowed to escort me to some function and then promptly dismissed like a servant.
Things will be better here, like Daddy promised. A new start is just what we all need.
We pull into the parking lot, and my chest tightens, my resolve crumbling. How easy it would be to march down the hall like I put theBinQueen B.I’ve been that girl so long, it’s my default. But no more. Here, I’ll be different. Better.
“Ready, Crystal?” Royal asks.
“What if I’m not?” I whisper, meeting his pure cacao eyes when he twists around in his seat.
“Relax, would you?” Baron asks, shoving my shoulder. “This school is a joke. One day here, and everyone will be eating out of our hands.”