Page 1 of Fire of the Fox

Chapter One

MY DUFFLE BAG hit the bed with a dull thud. Placing my hands on my hips, I surveyed the twin-sized bed and the mess that was my dorm room. It was going to take a lot of organizing and decorating to make it feel like my new, temporary home.

“It’s a pretty decent space for a college dorm.”

Glancing over my shoulder at Greg, I nodded in agreement.

He flashed me a wide grin and patted my shoulder. “Are you excited, Kiddo?”

“Of course. The art professors here are supposed to be really amazing.”

“You and your art,” Wendy laughed. Her dark curls bounced as she came in from the bustling hallway. She carried the last of my boxes, dropping them gently at the foot of my bed.

“That’s an artist for you,” Greg said, throwing his arm around her shoulder.

Staring at them now, standing side by side, it would be easy to tell they weren’t actually my parents. Wendy was a round, short woman with wild curls that framed her tanned face. Her small hazel eyes were warm, always crinkled at the sides in a smile. Greg stood at a good 6’2”, and his physique greatly resembled a bear. Dark head of hair, bushy beard, and big green eyes.

Then there was me. I was short with wide hips and large thighs, and it was clear that I enjoyed one too many sweet snacks. My blonde hair stood out between the two of them, and my bright blue eyes were a complete giveaway that I didn’t belong with these two. I looked as different from Mr. and Mrs. Ashmoore as one could get.

Taking one final look around the room, Greg’s eyes found mine. “Well, I assume you want us gone so that you can unpack and get settled. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to go yet,” I said, trailing after them to the door. “We could grab a bite to eat before you leave.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We need to get home to the dogs anyway.” Wendy grabbed my hand and gave it a good pat.

People rushed up and down the hallway with bags and boxes. A girl and mom across the hall, already hugged in a tight embrace, sobbed into each other’s hair. Her dad gave her a good squeeze, too, pulling back with tear-filled eyes.

“I love you, Pumpkinhead,” her dad choked. “You have a great semester. Work hard.”

“Call us every day, okay?” Her mom’s tears continued to streak down her cheeks, mascara following in their wake.

“I promise to call every day and come home as much as possible. I love you both so much!”

Turning back to my own parents, I waited with eager eyes to see if this would finally be it. The moment when I got that famous “I love you”. They were great people with big, caring hearts, but there had always been this sort of invisible line none of us had ever crossed when it came to affection. We never exchanged “I love yous” or hugs or kisses. Patting was normal. A brief side squeeze was rare. A heartfelt goodbye was nonexistent.

I always wondered why they adopted a child if they didn’t actually want one.

Waiting with bated breath, I prepared myself for what it would feel like. Would I cry when they said it? Maybe giggle and fall into their open arms? I swallowed hard, ready now more than ever.

“Well,” Wendy said warmly, glancing up at Greg. Meeting my eyes again, she said, “Have a great school year. Do well in your classes.”

“Make lots of memories, Kiddo.” Greg’s large hand patted my head and rumpled my hair.

Forcing a smile through the anticipation, I nodded. “I will. I promise.”

“Take care, Bria! Talk soon.”

They waved, then turned, walking hand in hand down the hallway. My eyes were glued to their backs as I watched them leave. A sharp pang flooded my gut, but I swallowed down those emotions. I never let it get to me that we didn’t feel like a real family, but I thought this could have been the moment when the invisible wall came down between us.

As I stood there, watching their retreat from my doorway, a hard slap on my butt had me yelping and spinning around. Dallas stood right behind me, a smirk plastered on her mouth.

“Don’t you dare get sad now! I know exactly what you’re thinking. Don’t! Who needs the Ashmoores when you have me?”

Laughing, I shut the door to our room and followed her to her bed. “I am not sad.”

She waved dismissively before tossing her red curls over her shoulder. “Bullshit. I can see it all on your face. How many times do I have to tell you? Why cry over a plain baked potato when you could have a loaded baked potato?”

“You’re a potato now?”

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