“Your drawing.” She pointed to it. “It’s wicked good.”
“It was okay,” I murmured as I tried unsuccessfully to rub out the charcoal line.
“Where did you learn to draw like that?”
I shrugged because, truthfully, I didn’t learn. I just … drew.
“What’s your name?”
“Jane.”
“Jane. I’m Lorna McKenna.” A hand appeared above my sketch.
The small hand had stubby fingernails painted with a bright pink, glittery polish. I smiled and looked up at Lorna. She seemed determined to get to know me. Usually my shyness pushed would-be friends away.
I showed her my charcoal-covered palm and fingers.
She shrugged, her chin jutting out with determination. “Then shake it with your other hand.”
I did. Her hand was cool, as if she’d been sitting beneath the AC inside her apartment.
She broke into a wide grin as we shook hands, and I couldn’t help but return her smile. Her gaze dropped to my left cheek. “You have a dimple!” Lorna exclaimed, as if this was the most impressive thing she’d ever encountered.
I automatically touched the dimple with my charcoal-covered fingertips.
“It’s cute. I wish I had a dimple. How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
She nodded like she’d expected that. “I’ll be thirteen in three weeks.”
“Where are you from?” My curiosity got the better of my usual timidity. I had to know if I was right about Boston.
“The Dot.”
I frowned.
Lorna smirked. “Dorchester. That’s in Boston.”
Ah. I was right. I’d seen the movie Good Will Hunting a lot because Willa had a thing for Matt Damon.
“Is it nice there?” I asked.
Lorna wrinkled her nose. “Boston is. Not the area of Dorchester we lived in. It was a shitty neighborhood. A guy got shot outside our apartment a few months ago.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.
I was pretty sure my mouth was hanging open.
“So, how come you’re not playing with those kids down by the pool?” she asked.
I followed her curious gaze to the two girls and two boys squealing and splashing around. The girls were neighbors; the boys lived on our block. And I knew because we were in the same class at middle school. “That’s Summer and Greta. They’re the most popular girls in my class.”
“Yeah, so?”
I blushed, knowing what I was about to say would probably push Lorna away. “I’m not exactly popular.”
Lorna nudged me with her shoulder, giving me a conspiratorial nod. The action was familiar. Like we’d been friends for ages. It was nice. “Popular and not-so-popular kids? Like on TV, huh? Back at my school, we didn’t have cliques like that. You had the kids who were just trying to lie low and get through the year and the kids who were shiesty—already into bad shit and to be avoided at all costs.”
“Did you live in the ghetto?”
She laughed. “The ghetto? Really? Noooo.” She nudged me again as if she thought I was cute. “We were poor, though. Everyone we knew was. Mom said people do stupid shit to forget the crappiness of their life or even stupider shit to cheat their way out of poverty.”
I didn’t know a lot about money, but I knew our apartment complex wasn’t cheap as far as rent costs went because Willa was always complaining about it.
Seeming to read my thoughts, Lorna told me, “We moved in here with our big sister, Skye.”
As if on cue, a woman’s voice rang out from the apartment. “Lorna! The Waterboys!”
Her face lit up. “Come on.” Lorna grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet, so I had no choice but to follow. I dropped my sketch pad on the top step and let her lead me into the apartment. When was the last time someone held my hand?
A thrill thrummed beneath my skin.
The apartment was the same size as Willa and Nick’s, and there were packing boxes everywhere.
A tall, stunning young woman was swaying with her hands in the air as an unfamiliar song played from the TV. She broke into a gorgeous smile at the sight of us. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jane!” Lorna called over the music. “Jane, this is my big sister, Skye.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, and seemed to mean it. I waved shyly. Then she leaned over, picked up a remote and pointed it at the TV, and the volume increased.
I watched as Lorna let go of my hand and joined her sister in the middle of the room. It occurred to me that Lorna was tall for her age too, ably spinning her big sister as they shouted lyrics at the top of their lungs about how the other saw the whole of the moon while they only saw the crescent. As unfamiliar as the song was, I immediately liked it.
Realizing I was just watching, Lorna waved me over.
Too timid to join them, I stayed put.
It was Skye who broke away from her little sister and pulled me into the center of the room with them. “Just let go!” she yelled. “You’ll love it!”
And to my surprise, my feet moved, my hips too. Lorna grabbed one hand, Skye the other, and we made a circle, lifting our clasped hands in the air. I laughed as the siblings continued to shout the lyrics at the top of their lungs. It was the most bizarre and wonderful moment, feeling a part of something with these two strangers.
When the song ended, I giggled with them, feeling high on the connection—and the feeling of being seen.
“I’ve never heard that song before,” I confessed as Skye lowered the volume.
“It’s called ‘The Whole of the Moon’ by The Waterboys,” Lorna informed me. “They’re an eighties band. It was our mom’s favorite song.”
“Now it’s our song.” Skye reached out to wrap an arm around her sister, pulling her into her side. Lorna giggled and playfully pushed her away.
Her big sister turned to me. “Lemonade?”
I nodded, thirsty after all the dancing.
The sitting room and kitchen were all one room. She moved into the kitchen while Lorna gestured for me to take a seat on the sofa, the only piece of furniture not covered in stuff.
I relaxed, surprised how quickly I’d become comfortable around the sisters. Lorna threw herself energetically down beside me. We both wore shorts and T-shirts, but where my legs barely touched the floor, hers sprawled out on it. She was paler than me and Skye, but winters in California versus Massachusetts would fix that.
“When did you move in?”
“Last night. You’re the first person we’ve met.”
Skye returned with the lemonade, a glass for each of us. She pushed aside items on the coffee table and sat on it to face us while we sipped the cool drink.
“You live here, Jane?” she asked.
At Skye’s stillness, I was once again struck by her beauty. I really wanted to draw her. She and Lorna shared the same ocean eyes and light brown hair. Except Skye’s reached the middle of her back in soft waves, and she had golden highlights. While Lorna had a strong nose, Skye’s was daintier. A little button. The resemblance between them was undeniable, but it was as if Skye’s features had been perfected, while Lorna’s had quirks and imperfections that made them even more interesting. I thought they both had wonderful faces—great for sketching.
“I do,” I answered Skye’s question. “I live a few doors down.”
“With your parents?”
“Foster parents.”
Her expression softened in sympathy.
“It’s just me, Jamie, and Skye now,” Lorna stated.
I looked at her, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Who’s Jamie?”
“My big brother. He’ll be fifteen this September. Our mom died three months ago. And our dad took off when I was young.” Lorna’s mouth twisted in a bitter sneer. “He never liked me.”
Uncomfortable, I didn’t know what to say.
Skye apparently sensed this and reached to pat Lorna’s knee. “Sweetie, you know that’s not true.” She flicked me a look.
“I’m sorry, Jane. Things are a little difficult at the moment.”
“No, they’re not.” Lorna pushed her sister’s hand away. “They’re the best they’ve ever been.”
My eyes widened. Her mom died, and this was the best things had ever been?
“What is Jane going to think?” Skye huffed in exasperation.
“The truth.” Lorna gave me that stubbornly determined look I’d already come to suspect was a common expression for her. “Jane’s going to be my new best friend, and best friends tell each other everything.”
While Skye chuckled at this, I felt my heart lurch in my chest.
I hadn’t had a best friend since second grade.
“Skye moved to LA a few years ago to become an actress, and she just won this amazing role on the show, The Sorcerer.”
My eyes widened. There were a lot of wannabe actors in LA, but that didn’t mean I’d met anyone from a show as big as The Sorcerer. “I love that show.”
Skye beamed. Like Lorna, she had the kind of smile that prodded your own lips to mirror the action. While Lorna’s ocean eyes were flinty and a little too hardened for a thirteen-year-old, Skye’s were warm and sparkled like waves beneath the sun. “Great! A fan! I’m a new major character.”
I noted then that Skye’s accent was more diluted than her sister’s.
“That’s amazing.” I was totally impressed.
“You want to be an actor?” Lorna misunderstood my awe.
I shook my head adamantly. No way. Cameras in my face, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. People watching my every move. My face plastered across tabloids. Ugh, I would rather eat slugs.
“Let me guess … an artist?”
I blushed at Lorna’s guess and shrugged. Which meant yes.
“Do you want to act?” I asked Lorna.
“Nope. The money is too uncertain.” Lorna straightened her spine. “I’m going to go to college and become a fancy litigator. That’s a kind of lawyer. They make a ton of money.”
“And she’ll do it too.” Skye grinned affectionately at her sister before turning to me. “Your new best friend is the most ambitious person you’ll ever meet.”
“Well, it makes up for having an actress and a moody writer in the family.”
Lorna’s sister scowled. “Stop teasing Jamie about his writing. You know it sets him off.”
The brother was a writer. How cool. “I love books.”
“Yeah, see?” Skye gestured to me as she stood. “If Jamie finds out you’re telling everyone about his writing, this place will turn into World War III, and I don’t have time for that.”
“Jane can keep a secret. Can’t you, Jane?”
I nodded vehemently.
“Told you.”
Skye offered me her kind smile. “Jane, I love my sister, but try not to let her bulldoze you into agreeing to everything she wants you to agree to. Or doing stuff during this burgeoning best friendship of yours that you’re not comfortable with.”
Lorna huffed. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “I have to get to work. There’s money on the counter for pizza and Jane is welcome to join you. I’ll tell Jamie to order more than one pizza, so there’s enough for everyone. That boy could eat through a house.”
Skye disappeared down the hall, and I could hear her talking to someone.
Obviously, Jamie. Despite my shyness, I was curious to meet him. If he was anything like his sisters, I’d probably fall in love with him immediately.
After Skye left, Lorna turned toward me on the sofa, tucking her knees to her chest. “Skye has been living in LA for a couple years, but her new job means we can afford to move here instead of the crappy apartment she was sharing with a buddy. She said there’s a big shopping area here. Is that true?”
I nodded and told Lorna about Brand Boulevard, a stretch filled with shops and restaurants, a movie theater, and how there were plans in development for an outdoor shopping mall. I told her how Glendale was the one place you could get authentic and great Armenian food. We didn’t eat out a lot, but we’d eaten enough takeout I could recommend my favorite places. I also offered to take Lorna to my favorite bakery.
After listening intently, Lorna cocked her head to the side and studied me. “You seem way older than thirteen. I know why I’m wicked mature.” She gestured dramatically to her chest. “But why are you?”
I was a little thrown by the change of subject. I considered it, though, and remembered the time I’d overheard Willa and Nick talking about me. It was not long after I’d arrived to stay with them.
“She’s like a little grown-up,” Willa whispered to Nick. They were in the kitchen; I was in the hall, having gotten out of bed for a glass of water.
“I know. That’s what growing up in the foster system does to you.”
“Yeah, knock every ounce of childhood out of you. This is why I prefer fostering younger kids. If we’re lucky, we can keep them long enough to give them a proper childhood.”
“Do you wish we hadn’t agreed to take Jane?”
“No, I’m glad. She’s been through a lot. At least we know she’s safe here.”
Overhearing that hadn’t eased my worries. What if one day, Willa decided they couldn’t handle a teenager on top of two young kids?
It occurred to me that all the worrying was probably one of the reasons I came off twenty years older than my actual age.
“Foster kid,” I replied to Lorna. “Seen a lot too, I guess.”
Lorna considered this and nodded. “I knew from the moment we met, we were kindred spirits. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded. I read a lot.
“So, you agree?”
I nodded again.
She smiled. “Do you want to see my room?”
I followed her down the hall, but as she marched ahead, I slowed to a stop at the first open doorway. It belonged to the smallest room where a boy, several years older than me by the look of his long legs, laid on a single bed pressed up against the wall under the window. He’d unpacked his room quite neatly for a teenage boy. A poster of the album cover for Eminem’s record, The Marshall Mathers LP, hung on the wall above his headboard. On the opposite wall was a scary-looking poster with blurred faces and a fanged skull. The name Richard Matheson was typed along the top of the image and above that were the words I Am Legend.
Was that a book?
My gaze swung back to the boy, and I felt goose bumps prickle all over my skin.
His light brown hair hung over his forehead in disarray, earbuds visible in his ears, an audible low hum of music playing through them. He had a strong profile, a slight cut to his cheekbones, and an angular jaw. One jean-clad knee was bent, his arm resting on it and in his hand, a worn paperback. His lips were pursed, as if in concentration.
A flutter made itself known in my belly.
A flutter that intensified when I watched him slowly turn his head toward me.
Stormy ocean eyes glared at me from beneath a moody brow.
We stared at each other a moment. A moment that felt like forever. My skin flushed.
The boy suddenly dropped the book and swung his legs off the bed.
His black T-shirt had the words “The Black Keys” on it. My heart skipped a little beat. We liked the same band. The T-shirt was paired with jeans that might have been dark denim once but had been washed within an inch of their life. He pulled out his earbuds.
“Who are you?” he bit out, just before his eyes flicked to my left.
Lorna had returned to my side.
“What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Showing Jane around. She’s my new best friend. Jane, this is my big brother, Jamie.”
Jamie McKenna transferred his glower from Lorna to me. “God help you.”
“Hey!” Lorna cried, indignant.
“I don’t need your friends poking around my room.”
I blushed. Hard. Mortified.
“Ugh, you’re embarrassin
g Jane with your moodiness,” Lorna huffed. “It’s not cool to be a broody bastard, Jamie, no matter what those books you’re reading tell you. It’s very nineties, and if you hadn’t noticed, that decade is way over.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry I embarrassed your nosy little friend here,” he scoffed, before marching across his room to the door. “And stop cussing, you little brat. You don’t sound smart—you sound like you’re trying too hard to be cool.” With that, he slammed his bedroom door in our faces.
Oh, I’m so sorry I embarrassed your nosy little friend here.
My cheeks burned even hotter.
“Don’t mind him.” Lorna grabbed my arm and hauled me down the hall to her room. “He loves me really.”
Lorna’s room was the same size as the room that Tarin and Flo shared back in Willa and Nick’s apartment. I tried to throw Jamie out of my head and concentrate on the surrounding space. Lorna’s room was bigger than Jamie’s, which I thought was odd since he was older.
There were a few boxes piled in the room, but she didn’t seem to have a lot of belongings. As if she’d read my mind, she put her hands on her hips and announced, “Skye has promised to take me shopping before school starts. I’ll need new things. Lots of them. And she can afford it now.” Her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll buy cute posters, too, for my room. Unlike Jamie’s. Did you see the skull thing?”
I nodded.
“Creepy, right? It’s his favorite book.”
I mentally added I Am Legend to my to-be-read pile.
I’d noted there were stacks of books organized along one wall in his room, all in need of a bookcase. He was a fellow bookworm. That fluttering in my stomach wouldn’t go away. It was so weird!
“I bet he’s hidden his writing in his room somewhere.” She smirked, like she was thinking of breaking in to find it. “He writes by hand because we can’t afford a laptop. Or we couldn’t. I bet Skye will buy him one now. Did you see his books? Back home, he’d never have left those out.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, turning to me. “If his friends knew he liked to read books and write stories, they’d have kicked the shit out of him.”
“They don’t sound like very nice friends.”
Keep This Promise Page 198