Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I sort of know Lesley. Then there are you and Dom and Emilio. I know Terrence is the big guy, and, uh, that’s kind of it.”
“Everyone’s cool, otherwise, they wouldn’t be here. You’ll like them. There’s Paola, Jayson, Dirk, and Lesley, plus everyone you already mentioned. Members don’t have to live here, but most choose to.”
“I didn’t know that was an option, living in the dorms still.”
He glances at me with a knowing smile on his face. “It’s not for you. Everyone else can choose.”
I stare down at my coffee and blush. I wonder if he knows about the initiation Emilio put me through, but no, I can’t imagine Emilio would share that with his brother. Not the details, anyway.
“Is your brother always so…” I trail off, not sure how to say it without insulting him.
“Intense? Terrifying? A total prick? Yes, yes, and not always but yeah, mostly.” He laughs lightly and nudges me with an elbow. “He must’ve taken a liking to you because I thought only Dom and I were being brought into the society this year. Everyone’s gossiping about why the boss would let some random without a pedigree in, no offense.”
“None taken,” I say softly sip my coffee. He must not know who I am if he thinks I have no pedigree or whatever that means, and that’s fine. It means Emilio probably hasn’t figured out who my family is either, and the longer I can keep it that way, the better. “To be honest, I don’t know why your brother let me in either.”
“He’s like that. He’s always got his reasons and his plans but he rarely ever shares them.”
“Must be annoying.”
“Frustrating, but he’s a good brother. With him, it’s family first, and Calico Club is his family on Saint Parras.”
“That must mean I’m family now too.”
He winks and nods. “You sure are. Welcome to the club.”
We chat a bit more about school and classes before I excuse myself and wander out back. The yard is mowed and maintained, with a big patio and plenty of comfortable seating, and a large firepit in the very center. I linger outside before looking back over my shoulder.
This place has secrets. I can almost feel them hiding in the walls. I got a glimpse of those secrets down in the basement, at the boxes and boxes and alcohol and other stuff, but Emilio didn’t give me a chance to explore very much. I want to look around the house and get a feel for where I’ll be living for the foreseeable future, but the draw of that basement is too powerful to resist.
I drift back inside, being quiet. I hear water running and the clink of a pan being washed in the kitchen. Nathan whistles softly to himself—it’s surprisingly good, a sad tune with a low warble. I do my best not to make any noise as I head toward the basement door.
This might be my only chance. Lesley and Emilio are out for a run and Nathan’s distracted in the kitchen. Who knows when I’ll be this alone again, maybe never. I grab the basement door handle and twist, opening it up.
Damp air hits me. The smell of salt and mildew wafts into my nose. I wonder if Lucy ever stood in this spot, staring into that basement. I think she did—my sister couldn’t leave a stone unturned. She was obsessed with the truth, regardless of her own safety, and she pursued things with a single-minded determination that was both impressive and extremely reckless.
It’s what got her killed.
She came to Saint Parras to become a journalist. Lucy dreamed of traveling the world, investigating dangerous cartels, interviewing killers and thieves and psychopaths, doing the dangerous wartime work so few people were willing to do. She had a sense of adventure and wonder far beyond our little insular Philadelphia world, although she loved her home city too—she worked as an intern for the Philadelphia Inquirer for a couple years, and even broke a story about a new gang up in Kensington. That was my sister, fearless and intrepid, and everyone loved her.
I can only imagine how she saw Emilio and his little crew. They must’ve looked like the perfect target for her budding investigational skills, and once she got their scent, I’m sure she couldn’t leave them alone.
Everything comes back to the article she wrote the week before she died. That article is stuck in my brain, and its subject is lodged in my body like a sickness.
I move onto the first step. It creaks under my weight. I hesitate, listening, but Nathan’s whistling continues and the house is otherwise silent. I remember sneaking into the basement of my childhood home with Lucy and sitting in the dark with her while she braided my hair, both of us hiding from Mom and Dad. She’d whisper, you’ve got such pretty hair, I want to cut it all off and braid it into mine and we’d laugh and laugh together and tell spooky stories until I got too scared and she had to stop. She’d hold my hand at night when I couldn’t sleep, and I’d wake up most mornings to her lying in my bed, staring at me. Lucy loved me more than anyone in this world ever will, and now she’s gone, all gone.