“Christ, it’s bright in here.” Carmine shielded his eyes as his voice echoed through the silent room, but no one was around to scold him.
“First time in the library?” Dominic asked.
“I’ve been in here for English class,” he said defensively. “I even checked out a book once.”
“Which book?”
“The Count of Monte Cristo. I had to do a report last year.”
“So you actually read it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I read the first page before I rented the movie.”
Dominic laughed but said nothing, too busy pulling up files on the computer. Carmine leaned against the desk beside him, trying to decipher what all the coding meant. “What are you doing?”
“Changing your grades for you, bro.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“No, but I did look at them. You’ll never make it out of high school at the rate you’re going.”
Carmine shook his head. “You have some nerve hacking the school’s servers and going through people’s records like this shit isn’t illegal. And they say I’m the one who’s gonna turn out like Dad.”
“I don’t intentionally hurt people, so you still have me there,” Dominic said. “Besides, have you seen your disciplinary record?”
“I think the better question is have you seen it, Dom.”
“You’re damn right I have. It was like reading a true-crime novella. Your permanent high school record is longer than Uncle Corrado’s arrest record, and that’s saying a lot.”
Their aunt Celia’s husband, Corrado Moretti, had been arrested more times in his life than he had had birthdays, but none of the charges ever stuck. Whether it was a missing witness, a dirty judge, or a bribed juror, Corrado always found a way out of trouble.
A reporter once dubbed him the Kevlar Killer. No matter what he was hit with, he came out unscathed.
“Uncle Corrado’s the Man of Steel,” Dominic said. “Faster than a speeding bullet.”
“Did you seriously just compare him to a superhero?”
“Yeah, guess I didn’t think that one through.”
Glancing at his watch, Carmine pushed away from the desk. “I have to get to history before Mrs. Anderson sends a search party out for me.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Dominic said. “From what I saw, you’re not passing the class.”
“You’re really not gonna change my grade for me?”
“Sorry, no can do. What does Superman say? With great power comes great responsibility?”
Carmine smacked his brother on the back of the head as he walked past. “That’s Spider-Man, dumbass.”
* * *
Carmine got home after football practice that night in just enough time to see Haven bolt up the stairs. He washed his hands and went into the dining room where dinner waited, his father already bowing his head to pray when he sat down. “Signore, benedici questi peccatori che essi mangiano la loro cene.”
Lord, bless these sinners as they eat their dinners.
Carmine was eating before they could say, “Amen.”
Vincent tried to make conversation during the meal, and Dominic humored him, but Carmine remained silent. It was well after dark when Vincent’s pager went off, and he dismissed them, needing to head to work. Carmine made his way upstairs and hesitated when he saw Haven in the library, gazing out the window with her palm pressed against the smooth glass.
He expected her to flee, but she instead motioned toward the small flashes of light sparking in the darkness. “What are those things?”
Carmine turned to see if someone else was there, taken aback that she was attempting to talk to him. “Fireflies. Some people call them lightning bugs.”
“Why do they glow?” she asked. “Is it so they can see?”
He strolled over to her. “I think it’s how they talk to each other.”
“Wow.”
“You’ve never seen them before?”
She shook her head. “We didn’t have any in Blackburn.”
“Ah, well, we have plenty here,” he said. “They’re like flying beetles with asses that light up.”
She smiled at his description. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re just bugs. Nothing special.”
“They’re alive,” she said. “That makes them special.”
He had no comeback for that. Haven continued to gaze out the window while he watched her, seeing the childlike wonder in her expression. She looked as if she were seeing the world for the first time, like she had been blind until now but suddenly could see. He wondered if she felt that way, too, if everything in front of her was brand-new.
He tried to think back to when he saw fireflies for the first time, but he could barely recall that point in his life. He vaguely remembered catching some in a jar once.
“Do you wanna see them up close?”
The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was asking. He’d heard his father, but at the same time, he didn’t see the harm.
She turned from the glass to look at him. “Could I?”
“Sure.”
Excitement sparked in her eyes. The sight of it made Carmine’s heart skip a beat. It had been years since he felt anything close to that, and for a moment, he wished he could steal it for himself.
“You mean go outside?”
“Yes.”
“But I’m not allowed.”
He shrugged. “Neither am I.”
Technically true, since he was grounded, but he’d never let that stop him before.
“I’d like that,” she said, pausing before adding, “If you’re sure.”
He smiled. She was trusting him. He wondered if maybe she shouldn’t do that, but it was a vast improvement from avoiding him. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
He ran down to the kitchen, glad his father had already left, and returned to the third floor after finding an empty mason jar. Haven stood in the same place, her hand still pressed to the glass.
“Come on,” he said, heading to his bedroom. Turning on the light, he noticed she lingered outside the doorway, surveying the mess. “Are you coming in? I know it’s a disaster . . .”
“Oh no, it’s not that.” She looked panicked. “I didn’t know if I should.”
“Well, we can’t go out the door, because my father will find out. We have to go out up here.”
Her brow furrowed. “From the third floor? How?”
“You’ll see.”
He watched her locked in an internal debate before ultimately taking a step into the room. Careful not to trip over any of his belongings, she made her way to where he stood. Carmine pulled up the blinds before shoving open the large window. It squeaked a bit but gave little resistance.
Haven gaped at it. “I didn’t think the windows opened.”
“They don’t,” he said. “Dom disabled this one from the system so I could pry it open and sneak out at night. My father’s never caught on since it doesn’t set off any alarms.”
Carmine held the curtains aside, motioning for her to climb through, and she stepped out onto the small porch that wrapped around the floor. Carmine joined her, and she carefully followed him along the balcony to a massive sycamore tree. Thick branches extended toward the corner of the house, so close Haven touched some of the green leaves, the tips fading to brown with autumn on the horizon.
Carmine tossed the jar down from the balcony, holding his breath as it landed in the grass with a thud. Gripping the branch closest to him, he stepped over the banister and climbed into the tree. “Come on, it’s easy.”
She peeked over the edge. “I don’t want to fall.”
“You won’t.”
“You swear?”
He chuckled. “All the fucking time.”
She hesitated before grabbing the branch like he’d done and pulling herself over the banister. Carmine expertly navigated the tree, having done it dozens of times, and Haven carefully followed his path. A minute after he jumped to the ground, she landed beside him on her feet.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, huh?”
A hint of a smile graced her lips. “I didn’t fall.”
Carmine grabbed the jar as Haven wandered a few steps away, her eyes darting around. Fireflies continued to flash in the darkness, the brief glows illuminating her awestruck face. Her smile grew as she reached out for one, but she pulled her hand back quickly. “They won’t hurt me, right?”
“Right,” he said. “You’re probably ten times more dangerous than fireflies are.”
Dangerous. The word made his heart rate spike. Something told him this girl was a danger to his fucking sanity.
She gently captured a firefly in her palm and stared at it with awe as the bug ran across her hand and took off from the tip of her middle finger. Soft giggles erupted from her as it flew away, catching Carmine off guard. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he handed her the jar. “Here, catch a few.”
Carmine sat down on the ground as she took off, chasing fireflies through the yard. He laughed as she fought to catch them, the little bugs evading her grasp. Soon her laughter mixed with his, her excited cheers sounding out in the night when she managed to wrangle some into the jar. She spun and twirled, jumped and ran; all the while a smile graced her lips.
As he watched, Carmine thought she looked different from the girl he’d encountered that first day. There was no awkwardness, the tension that radiated from her a distant memory. Out in the yard, under the shine of the moon, she seemed relaxed and carefree.
* * *
Haven sat down and spread out her legs, the lush grass tickling her feet. She inhaled deeply, the cool night air a far cry from the dusty shallow breaths she forced into her lungs growing up. It smelled different here, clean and crisp. Everything was green. She’d never given the color much thought before, but she realized it was more than something to see. It was a feeling, a taste, a smell. It was the dampness of the grass and the shelter of the trees. It was fresh. It was comforting. Green was happiness.
Green made her belly rumble, and the feeling terrified her.
The few trees she saw in Blackburn were barren, deformed sticks jutting from the ground, but here they were giant umbrellas of leaves towering above her.
She stared at the jar in her lap, the half-dozen fireflies trapped inside flickering at regular intervals. She found it strange the way they blinked in harmony, a silent melody she yearned to hear. “I wonder what they’re saying,” she said, shattering the silence that had settled between them.
Carmine pointed at the jar. “I’m pretty sure this one just told that one it had a nice glowy ass.”
“And the others?”
“Ah, well, that one’s jealous, because it wanted the one with the nice ass,” he said, pointing again. “And the others are gossiping. You know—who did who, why, where, when, what-the-fuck.”
“I didn’t realize bugs were so scandalous.”
