CLAIRE

As soon as I entered the porch, Holly embraced me. As in, full-on bear hug, nearly choking the life out of me.

"What—" I wheezed. "What's going on—"

That caused Holly to stop hugging me, gently pushing me back to clap her hands on my shoulders.

"You're kidding me, right?" Holly had very expressive thick eyebrows that were now arched like a confused cartoon character. "It was on the news— the tram crash and Renegade taking you hostage— why didn't you call us?"

"I didn't see any texts on my phone," I protested. "I even checked before heading home."

"You mean you walked from downtown to here?" Holly's eyes widened, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead. "You've got to be freezing! Come on, we'd better get you inside, get you some food—"

"Can I take it up to my room?" I asked as I finally stepped into the warmth of the house. "I've got a lot of homework, and it's due tomorrow."

"You'd think they'd let you have an extra day, seeing as those— those vigilantes threatened your life, and after a tram crash all the same!" Holly's hazel eyes locked onto my forehead. "Your head—"

"The field medics checked me out, I don't have a concussion," I reassured her. I hung up my jacket in the hall closet, taking care to retrieve my phone. "They let me leave the scene, I'm fine."

"Without transportation?"

"We weren't that far from the Riverview station." I leaned down to unlace my boots.

"And that's another thing!" Holly yelled as she passed through the house to the kitchen. "You're damn lucky you made it back safe, a young girl like you walking all alone through the night! You should've just called Brandon, or Julien, or me! Any of us would've been happy to come and get you!"

I groaned as I walked through the living room— the quickest path to the kitchen.

Holly worked as a freelance interior designer and it showed. The living room was a modern dream, with all space maximized. There were two desks in the far corners of the room. The one closest to the entryway was smaller, and it belonged to my dad.

It was one of those standing desks, and it had Dad's personal rig set up and was littered with notebooks and lines of code written out on graph paper. Dad had never been all that organized, even before Mom's death— and that had worsened after the fire at City Hall.

On the other end was a long-stretching corner desk with a little Barbie dollhouse that Holly liked to use for remodeling ideas. The shelves were lined with various books and succulents, and everything was perfectly neat. A cork board hung over her desk like a physical representation of her many, many Pinterest boards. Her favorite blue yoga ball functioned as her chair.

In the middle of the living room was a chandelier and big fluffy white carpet that I absolutely loved taking off my socks and walking through. There was a glass coffee table with Holly's favorite magazines from the supermarket displayed on there with the TV remote and another succulent, across from the black couch and matching loveseats that framed the flatscreen TV. On the couch were the turkey and Thanksgiving-themed throw pillows that Holly brought out every November 1st.

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By the time I traipsed through the living room and entered the mint green kitchen, Holly was looking frantically on the counter and in the fridge.

"I swear, I ordered a Hawaiian pizza— your favorite— and I got Julien to save some for you," she muttered as she closed the fridge. "It must be around here somewhere—"

Then her eyes locked on the top of the trash can. For sticking out of it was a Pizza Pie Caravel box— the closest local pizza parlor that offered to-go orders.

"Julien!"

Instantly, my step-brother appeared, summoned by the demonic voice Holly has when she's angry.

"Yeah, Mom?" In his hand was a pineapple pizza.

"Is that— I was saving that for your stepsister!"

"Well, it's mine now— unless you want it?" He jokingly offered me the half-eaten slice of pizza.

Gross.

I grimaced and shook my head.

He shrugged and finished it. "I was extra hungry, oaky? I've been studying for like, a few hours. I need more brain food."

"Then try the five million snacks we keep in the pantry, and not the pizza I told you to leave for your sister!" Holly shook her head. "Honestly!"

She then sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "I guess I should just be grateful you decided to come out of your room to find food, instead of forgetting to eat."

"You should be grateful, you miss a lot when I'm studying." Julien smirked.

"Given your grades, you should get back to studying." Holly narrowed her eyes.

"Oh come on, I'm making all Bs— and two Cs" Julien amended hastily. "I'm doing a great job— especially compared to my senior year of high school—"

"But that doesn't mean that they can't be improved." Holly raised one eyebrow.

"Fine," Julien groaned. "Back to prison."

Holly rolled her eyes before turning back to me. "I'm so sorry about that, Claire— I'll find something else to make, and I'll bring it up so you can change into some warm clothes and get started on homework."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

I then headed up the stairs, entering just as Julien slammed shut the door to his room. I shuffled over to the far end of the closet and pulled down the ladder to my attic room.

It had been renovated long before Dad and Holly got married, but it had gone through additional changes when I took the room, leaving the other bedroom as a spare for guests on the second floor.

It was admittedly much cooler than my room back in the Silver Spires apartment.

It was a large space with the slanted roof at the ceiling and four large windows down the room.

At the farthest end, where the ceiling did not slant, that was where the headboard of my bed was. I had to be careful if I rolled over in my bed and slept too close to the wall to not hit my head on the slanted roof, but otherwise it worked well for me. I still kept a few Pokemon plushies on my bed— even if I would turn eighteen come May.

Next to it was my gaming rig and L-shaped desk. A large monitor dominated the space, with various systems connected to the monitor. My controllers stuck out of one of those organizational decorative boxes. On the other side of the desk, I took advantage of the slant of the ceiling to create a little shelf for all of my games, lined with book ends made from some Funko pops and figurines.

Along the end of one of the walls, running between the windows was the piece of rail that sufficed as my closet, with a dresser holding some accessory pieces and unmentionables acting as a way to block off the dressing area from the rest of the room.

Beyond that, directly in front of the fourth window was my favorite spot— a hanging chair. I liked to sit there and play the acoustic guitar that leaned in its case against the wall. I'd attempt to replicate one of Fleetwood Mac's guitar riffs as I watched the snow fell.

Or I'd listen to the old radio and speakers we salvaged from the thrift store, picking from the wicker bin of CDs I bought from that same second-hand store.

Then, on the furthest wall were built-in bookshelves— a leftover from the first time that Holly had remodeled the room before generously letting me have it. It gave me a second door, a little extra privacy. And I liked having the bookshelves to display my books and trinkets.

But tonight there was no time for such things. I pushed my controllers and headset to the side of my desk and dumped the contents of my messenger bag onto the center of the desk.

Twenty pre-calc problems, a psych class reading, a chapter of The Catcher in the Rye. Begin the outline for a history paper that would be due next week.

I was lucky that I had gotten my article done ahead of time for the school newspaper, the Princess North.

I plugged in my phone and put on some music as I started on homework.