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What indeed.
CHAPTER1
MIA
Itrudge into the house through the garage, my backpack slung over my shoulders.
It looks like I’m doing the walk of shame. I’m definitely not. But my dad is bound to give me a lecture anyway, even though I did call home last night to let my parents know I was staying at my best friend’s apartment for the night since we were studying. Crashing on her couch isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but it is better than making the drive home late at night. Sometimes I wonder why I chose to continue living at home while I went to university. Our house is nearly an hour away from campus, and where I work, but I’d hated the thought of leaving my parents and siblings so I chose to commute instead. I know if I’d wanted to stay on campus they would’ve supported my decision … well, my mom would have. My dad on the other hand… he takes overprotective to a whole new level even now with me being twenty-two.
The alarm chimes, signaling my arrival.
“Mia? Is that you?” My mom calls out.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I sigh, dropping my cheery yellow backpack by the stairs.
I’m tired. Kira’s apartment is small with only her bed and the couch—which means I sleep on the latter. Kira always offers for me to crash in her bed with her but she’s a bed hog, so I choose the couch over being kicked onto the floor in the middle of the night. Yeah, that happened once.
My neck is stiff and my back feels like someone kicked my spine all night long, but this pain can’t be blamed on Kira. For all I know there are little gremlins living inside her sofa.
I follow the sound of her voice to the kitchen and find her making breakfast. Eggs and pancakes. My tummy rumbles but I have more pressing matters at hand, like peeing and taking a shower. Oh, and changing my clothes. I slept in my actual clothes and not my pajamas and it shows. It feels like my jeans are glued to my legs.
My two younger siblings sit at the kitchen table waiting for breakfast. Adalyn is so absorbed in her phone she doesn’t even look up upon my arrival. Noah gives me a cheeky smile and lifts his feet onto the table. He winks. We both know Mom will blow a gasket when she spots his stinky feet on the table.
Adalyn and I look a lot alike. We both have red hair, but hers is closer to a strawberry color and not my vibrant hue. We even have features that match our mom’s, but she got Dad’s eyes.
Well, there was no way I’d have gotten Dad’s eyes—he’s technically my adopted dad, but he’s all I’ve ever known as a father, and therefore in my mind, heismy dad.
Noah, on the other hand, is a complete clone of our dad. Same sandy shaggy hair, same shade of blue eyes, and perpetual smirk. It’s uncanny at times and like looking at a teenage version of Josh Hayes.
The only difference is where our dad eats, sleeps, and breathes music, Noah prefers building things—ranging anywhere from Legos to legitimate robots which actuallywork. Noah’s a borderline genius. Heck, maybe he’s an actual genius for all I know. Point is, the kid issmart.
“Do you need help?” I ask my mom.
She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m fine,” she assures. “I wanted to see you.”
“You saw me yesterday morning,” I remind her.
“Am I not allowed to miss my daughter?” she jokes, blowing a stray piece of red hair from her eyes.
I stick my tongue out. “I guess.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
I shake my head, my shoulders sagging with tiredness. “No, I wanted to get home first. Save me some, please. I want to shower. I feel icky.” I pull my day-old shirt away from my body.
She waves me away. “Go shower then. I’ll save you a plate.” She glances significantly in Noah’s direction because we both know if she doesn’t save me a plate the little shark will eateverything.She spots his feet on the table and glowers. “Feet. Off. The. Table.”
He doesn’t move his feet. I’m not sure if it’s to purposely defy her or because it seems that boys are born with selective hearing.
“Do I need to get your father in here?” she warns with her hands on her hips.
He drops his feet immediately, mumbling something we can’t hear under his breath.
Honestly, our dad is a pushover. He hates scolding any of us, but if Mom is mad enough and calls for him … yeah, he gets scary if we don’t listen to her.
I slip from the kitchen making my way upstairs to my bedroom.
It’s my favorite room in the house, mostly because it’smine.
