Page 1 of Scattered Glitter

CHAPTER ONE

Novalee

Every bad decision I’ve ever made started with a night like this—thick air, quiet streets, and a twin sister who should’ve stayed home.

At night, Phoenix feels like a secret, the kind that promises trouble if you’re stupid enough to go looking for it. Rosalee and I walk side by side down the cracked sidewalk while she tugs nervously at her glittery jacket, her eyes darting to every shadow as if something might jump out at us.

She’s always been like this, ever since we were kids—cautious and careful. Meanwhile, I’ve always been the one dragging her into trouble. We balance each other out, her caution and my recklessness.

“Can we go home already?” she pleads. “I really want to stay with this family until we age out. I’m so done with moving around.”

I scoff, waving a hand as if to brush away her worries. “Oh, come on, they don’t even know we’re gone.” I try to sound carefree, but my words only make her frown deepen.

That’s my sister, constantly worrying about the consequences.

I’ve never been that way. Consequences are a problem for tomorrow’s Novalee. Tonight’s Novalee wants to feel something other than the dull ache of routine.

“Yeah, it’s not like we have a reputation or anything,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. Her sarcasm hides her concern, but I know she’s probably right.

Still, I grin and bump her shoulder with mine, trying to lighten the mood. “Ihave a reputation. You can stay home if you want.” I say it lightly, but a part of me wishes she would. Rosalee doesn’t belong in these places, these sketchy corners I drag her into.

She’s too good, too pure.

She’s also stubborn as hell.

“As if I’d let you go out and do shit without me,” she mutters but then laughs, the tension easing from her face as she hooks her pinky around mine. “From the cradle to the grave, remember?”

I squeeze her pinky, feeling that familiar swell of love for her. “Yeah, I remember.” And I do. Rosalee has always been there. She’s my constant, my mirror image. Even when we’re at odds, she’s the one steady thing in my life. “Seriously, you worry too much. This neighborhood’s not so bad.”

Rosalee glances around, her brow furrowed with doubt. “This place looks sketchy as hell.”

“That’s because you don’t know it yet,” I say, shrugging. “You were never afraid in the last place we lived.”

We went out like this almost every night, but it was different there. It felt more like a home, even if it was temporary. We had friends, people who watched out for us. Here, we’re two more faces in a sea of strangers.

No one knows us. No one cares.

“True,” she admits, but her eyes still dart around nervously. “This place looks even rougher, though.”

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t wear your glitteryjacket when we sneak out,” I tease, nudging her with my elbow. “You’re shining like a disco ball.”

She huffs and lets go of my pinky to tug the jacket tighter around her. “Not everyone’s favorite color can be black.”

I laugh, a genuine one that’s swallowed by the empty street. “Touché.”

Rosalee sees the world in colors, sparkles, and glitter while I see it in shades of gray and black.

As we walk, the distant thrum of a bass beat reaches my ears, growing louder with every step. I perk up, my senses honing in on the source of the sound as I increase my pace. “That sounds fun.”

Rosalee hesitates, her steps slowing as she grabs my hand. “You don’t know that. Maybe they’re all criminals.”

“Come on. Let’s at least have a look.”

We follow the music until we turn a corner and spot a garage with its doors wide open and neon lights spilling out onto the street. It’s packed with people, some around our age, others older, their silhouettes moving and swaying to the beat of the music.

Rosalee hangs back, her hand gripping mine tighter. “I think I was right.”

“Well, maybewelook like criminals to them,” I joke, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

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