I rest my hands behind my head and stare up at the green, glowing stars on the ceiling with half-open eyes.
Tomorrow I meet the rest of the freaks.
CHAPTER 2
WAVERLY
“Kath said he was beat up pretty badly.” My older sister, Bellamy, whisks scrambled eggs over the stove as I’m stirring two pitchers of orange juice. “Don’t stare, or anything.”
“What happened?” I ask, replacing the lid on the pitchers and carrying them to the table. Going to school every morning smelling like a restaurant is one of the worst things about my life right now, but I could have childcare duty. I’d much rather smell like bacon and eggs than spend all morning wiping snotty noses and getting the kids dressed.
“We don’t know, and it’s none of our concern,” Mom interjects. Her voice is hushed, which is her way of telling us to stop talking about it. Summer—my dad’s second wife—and her three kids shuffle in from the family room and take their places at the table. One more year and our half-sister, Justice, will be old enough to help out with meal prep. For now she gets the easy chores like emptying trash cans and dusting blinds.
Those were the days.
“You’re going to burn those,” I tell Bellamy. “You know how Dad gets about his eggs not being fluffy.”
Bellamy sighs and clicks off the burner. Ever since she took a job working at some financial corporation in Salt Lake City, she’s been zoned out on autopilot. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s met someone, but she won’t tell anyone anything. She’s secretive like that. She scrapes the eggs into a ceramic serving bowl. There must be a dozen scrambled eggs in there, all mixed in with her secret spice, which we all know is really just dill.
We set the table and bring the food over. Dad sits at the head of the table, reading the paper and squinting hard. Mom tries to tell him to get his eyes checked out, but he refuses. Everything has to be his idea or it’s not worth entertaining.
Four empty chairs take up the space across from Bellamy and me. We had to make room for the fourth one. It’s a tight squeeze, but we made it work. It just means the twins will have to sit closer together, which should be fine because they’re pretty much inseparable.
“Sorry we’re late.” We all glance up to the doorway where Kath ushers in her kids like a mother goose and her goslings, only one of the goslings is dark and huge and stands out like a sore thumb against the bland Americana we have going on in the Miller household. “Everyone, this is Jensen.”
Summer’s kids, Justice, Honor, and True, stare at him with blank faces. Mark folds his paper, Summer offers a distracted “good morning,” and Mom welcomes him into the main house.
He doesn’t say anything, only nods. His eyes are mildly swollen with dark purple rings underneath them. There’s a gash on his cheek that’s begun to scab over. Even with his face all mangled, it’s plain to see he’s attractive. I forget to breathe for a second and snap myself out of it with a giant gulp of orange juice.
He takes a seat across from me, his eyes traveling across the table and rising until they lock with mine. My heart beats so hard I can’t think straight for a second. I don’t understand what just happened or why my palms are suddenly sweaty.
I rub them against my jeans and reach for my orange juice cup a second time. It’s empty. I look like an idiot.
Jensen reaches for a pitcher of juice and pours some into my cup without saying a word. His lips are full and arched, the corners seemingly drawn into a permanent smirk.
“Thank you.” I brush the sandy-blonde hair from my face and take a sip.
He says nothing, releasing me from his gaze as Kath begins to go around the table and introduce everyone. I’m dying to know what’s going through his head right now. This would be a lot for anyone to take in, but I’m hopeful I’ll get a chance to explain to him that we’re a family just like any other, only we have a few more layers. I’m sure, as time goes on, he’ll fit right in.
Though judging by the way he wears his ripped up jeans and those faded t-shirts that cling to his body, I don’t think he’s someone who cares too much about fitting in. Everything about him says he’s comfortable being in a league of his own.
“Jensen, good to have you with us.” Dad lifts his juice glass as if he’s making a toast. “You’re a part of the family now. I plan to sit down with you after dinner tonight so we can lay down some of the house rules.”
I’m rolling my eyes on the inside. Jensen’s going to hate Dad’s house rules. Eight o’clock curfews. No loud music after dinner. Mandatory, bi-weekly family meetings and Family Home Nights. He’s going to swear him to secrecy about our lifestyle, too. We’ve managed to blend in in this little Utah town, but if we were ever publicly outed, it would destroy my dad’s pharmacy business—our only means of survival—in two seconds flat.
Jensen still hasn’t said a single word.
“We won’t send you to school until the bruising on your face goes away,” Dad says. “I know it’s hard enough being the new kid.”
He shrugs. He doesn’t care.
“As soon as you’re ready, Waverly here will take you under her wing.” Dad sips his juice and smiles at me. I was the first baby of the family until he married Summer. I was six years old. I hardly remember what life was like when it was just us four. “You two are both seniors. How about that? Got any big plans for this fall? Got your sights set on any particular colleges?”
I glance at Kath, who’s cutting up pancakes for the twins. Something about her is a bit more radiant today. Her shoulders are more relaxed. She’s less twitchy.
“Jensen, care to tell us a little about yourself?” Dad stares down his nose at Jensen, saying his words in a huff. I can tell he’s growing tired of Jensen’s quietude. It’s a sign of disrespect, and my father does not tolerate that kind of behavior in his house. My fingers cross under the table. I hope he’ll give Jensen a break, especially since he’s been through a lot.
Jensen shrugs, pushing the food around on his plate. “Not much to say.”
Kath flashes a look toward Dad, as if to ask him to leave him alone this once.
Dad inhales his final bite of breakfast and stands up, jingling his keys in his pocket like he always does to signal his departure. He makes his way around the table, kissing the little kids on the tops of their heads and kissing the cheeks of his three wives. When he gets to Bellamy and me, he kisses our foreheads. He’s always had a way of making each of us feel special, which means a lot when there are so many of us.
Bellamy eyes the clock. She has to leave for work soon. I have to go to school. The good thing about weekday breakfasts is we get out of cleaning up. Usually two wives will clean up while the third runs the little kids to school after Bellamy and I leave.
I wonder what Jensen’s chores will be. True was the first boy to come along and he’s only eight. The hardest part of his day is remembering to put his dirty clothes in his hamper each night.
“I’m leaving,” I announce.
“Enjoy your day, Waverly,” Mom says. “We’ll see you tonight. Don’t forget, you’re giving Honor her piano lesson before dinner.”
I’m shuffling about, grabbing my car keys and backpack and making sure my homework is in there. I swear I feel his eyes on me, though it could easily be my imagination. The room feels weightier with him in it, or maybe there’s an electrical charge. Something’s off today.
My stomach grumbles. In the midst of everything, I’d hardly touched my breakfast. Anything I did eat, I certainly didn’t taste.
I remind myself Jensen is my stepbrother, and that any curious thoughts I might have are an inappropriate waste of time and energy, and I sling my bag across my chest. My hair gets caught beneath the strap and I yank it out. By the time I look up, Jensen has risen from the table and is carrying his plate in my direction.
My heart jolts and my breath quickens. He’s charging at me, the corners of his lips curled up and his golden eyes holding mine. Jensen nods toward the sink behind me and lifts his plate.