Prologue
THE SOUND OF a man’s body hitting the pavement five stories below shouldn’t be in a love story. We never did anything the right way—he and I.
The fire painted his face with an orange glow. I didn’t want to look to see what had happened, so he did. I watched as his childhood dripped off of him like perspiration.
His jaw tightened as he clenched his fists. I watched as he mouthed something to the form below.
I swallowed my own childhood as I made way for my next words. “Is he dead?”
“Yeah.” He spat from the window, and I would bet my life that he’d hit his mark below. He was great at spitting. “Too fast for him. Too easy for him.”
I leaned toward the window, all of a sudden compelled to see.
He turned and blocked the open window, grasping my shoulders. “Nah. You don’t get to carry that image in your head. I’ll do it for both of us.”
I moved closer to the window, which was also incidentally into his arms. He was an amazing hugger.
“Maybe I should be crying? Am I doing this right?” I bet I was in shock.
He petted my head from the crown to the middle of my back. “You can cry if you want.”
He wouldn’t judge me. Never had. Never would.
“We just murdered a man.”
And then the truth flowed from me, like it always seemed to with him. He was like speaking to my own reflection. Things were only between the two of us. “No. He deserved it.”
He got me. He knew what I was asking. I wanted a trophy of this monster’s death. Deserved it. God help me, I’d earned it.
I hugged him again and listened to his heartbeat as the building next to his sizzled and burned. The beat was steady despite the burden it carried.
I hoped we only had to share this one death.
Chapter 1
Pixie
6 years earlier . . .
THE BUBBLES I aimed from the novelty gun from the dollar store were flying true tonight. I always focused on the open window across from my bedroom. A little game I played when I was up. It was a sticky, hot night. No air-conditioning. In our neighborhood, it was a luxury.
I made a wish as the bubbles went cruising through the open window that didn’t have a screen, just like mine. I looked up at the moon and winked at him. It was hard to see the stars in the city, but the moon always made a spectacle of himself.
I wished for...something. A feeling, not really a wish. I wanted the easy hope that came to the rich girls at school. The careless tossing of a cell phone, the sureness that their stomach wouldn’t growl in the middle of math. I wanted hope and carelessness, I guess.
I tucked back inside my window when I heard footfalls beneath me. I was five stories up, so I was pretty okay. But habit. Here you stayed out of sight to stay safe. The eyes looking at you might not have anything nice in their thoughts or plans. And it was three a.m., according to the alarm clock I had on my floor. Even at that time, people would be out in the skinny alley below me.
I wanted to try my luck at scoring another wish. Today was my birthday. Well, I mean, I guess I would have to go to sleep for it to count, but it was past midnight. My bubble gun was my present. Even though it was the start of summer, the gun had been in the clearance section.
I popped my head out and saw that the alley was clear of people. The dumpsters were overflowing. There was trash that was close to them, but not actually in the bins.
I saw the flash for an instant, but I couldn’t move fast enough. I was drilled in the forehead with a Nerf bullet.
“Ow!” I rubbed my head and gave the boy in the window the fiercest look I could. I even gave him the middle finger.
“What? You’re shooting me! I was sleeping, and the next thing I know bubbles are in my face and my freaking eyes!”
I spied below, and the people who had been loitering there had moved on. I held my gun out. “If you were sleeping, how’d the bubbles get in your eyes? Your lids would have been closed.”
The new kid was lying. I could tell. He put his hand through his hair, smoothing it down. “I was trying to sleep. It’s hot. I kept getting smacked with your bubbles.”
He shot another Nerf dart through my window. It whizzed past my cheek.
“Save those bullets for me, though. I need them back.”
I squished my face up at him. “No. I’m not saving you crap.”
He looked dejectedly at his gun. “I only have four left.”
“You should’ve thought of that before hitting me in the face on my birthday.” I rubbed my forehead.
His face lit up. “Happy cake day! How old are you?”
His smile made me put down a little of my guard. “Twelve…”
“Same as me! I bet we will be in the same school.” He aimed his gun at my window and a little past it, but didn’t pull the trigger. “My birthday was yesterday. I’m twelve, too.”
I gave him the news he clearly didn’t know. “Maybe, but your building can be a different district than mine.” I scratched my elbow before sizing him up again. Brown hair and brown eyes. Skinny. He seemed younger than me, even though we were the same age. I had boys in my class shorter than me. I aimed my gun again, letting the stream of little bubbles fly. He quickly started poking them to pop them when they were close enough.
“How’s your school?” He bit at one of the bubbles and made a face. I’m sure the soap didn’t taste good.
“Sucks. The other school for your building is pretty good.” Back in the day Mom tried to get an apartment in that building, but they didn’t take assistance checks. They did now, though. The whole building had changed ownership a few years back. But Mom said it was too late to move.
“Why is it good?” He narrowed his eyes while continuing to pop my bubbles.
“I’ve heard they have a little courtyard where you can have lunch with trees and flowers and stuff. Field trips, too. Lots of them. At least that’s what my friend says. She knows someone who has a cousin that goes there.” The dull whir of the bubble gun combined with the sounds of the night. We heard trucks shifting gears and honking. The exhaust mixing with the humidity made it seem impossible to sleep.
“What’s your name?” He leaned out the window, looking at the concrete five stories below.
“Pixie Rae Stone.” My stupid name. “My mom was hoping for a Southern belle fairy, not a daughter when she gave birth to me.”
“I’m Gaze Patrick Jones.” He squinted one eye and pointed his Nerf gun at a pigeon that was sitting on a ledge of my building.
“What’s that short for?” I aimed my bubbles at the pigeon and he took flight.
“I’m not short. Maybe you’re too tall.”
I pulled back into the window. “How do you know I’m tall?” I mean, I was tall-ish but still shorter than my mom.
“I’ve seen you walking around over there.” He pointed his gun and accidently shot it. The bullet slammed into the window frame and tumbled down between our buildings. “Shit.”
“Damn, you’re allowed to curse?” I leaned back out, fairly confident that he was done shooting, not wanting to lose any more Nerf bullets.
“Sure am. When it’s night, nobody’s listening but you, Pixie Rae.” He smiled at me, and I felt myself smile in return.