The Brothers

By Alexis Donkin

In THE BROTHERS, book 1 of 4 in the epic fantasy series, KHLOE ALWELL, Khloe is about to turn sixteen, find her first real friends, fall in love, learn that every legend is true, discover her parents are living a lie, and one more thing. She's not human.

Moving from town to town with her mother who is absent six months out of the year and an mousy academic stepfather, Khloe Alwell never had time to make friends or fit in. Everything changes the September before her sixteenth birthday, when Khloe finds herself in a small New England town starting yet another new school. There she befriends three strange brothers who introduce her to the Otherworld where human myth and legend are fictionalized histories of an older more powerful race divided. Drawn to Khloe, the brothers and their childhood friends will help her uncover her parents' complicated past, come to terms with ugly truths that plague all people, as well as discover Khloe's true identity, power, and the legacy meant for her in the world beyond the veil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexis Donkin
• Release date: Aug 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466003859

Alexis Donkin

Alexis Donkin is passionate, purposeful, and prolific. If Margaret Atwood and C.S. Lewis had a lovechild, it would be her. Alexis currently lives in Southern California with her family and real-life familiar. She has lived many places and studied many things. Between writing, speaking, and chasing her kid, she paints, sings, and dances. Sometimes she does it all at once. Be sure to connect with her and sign up for her newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/btmIPD

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The Brothers

By: Alexis Donkin

2nd Edition

Copyright 2015, 1st Edition 2011 Alexis Donkin

All rights reserved.

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Chapter 1 - September

There are always three. Legends always have three obstacles - three challenges to prove the hero's worth, three paths to take. That should have tipped me off. The problem is, when you're sixteen, you don't understand the implications of a glance, a touch, or a joke. It's all one giant experiment you orchestrate on yourself – something you can't fully know until you're looking back at it many years later. At that time, I was hardly contemplating the nature of my life. I wasn't even concerned about starting another year at yet another school, where I'd once again be the new girl.

It was a cool September day when I first met them. I remember autumn came early and leaves were falling slowly in the brisk air. Those remaining on the trees were bright orange, gold, and the deepest of reds. Trees, like all living things, act according to how things feel, not a schedule determined by some outside force. So far north, the time line was different. Mostly, we had lived in the South where it was green year round. But here, in the Northeast, autumn comes early every year. There was more than one Indian legend about such things, but then I couldn't remember any of them clearly. I was in a mixed state of shock and dread. Once again my life was changing faster than I wanted, courtesy of my mother. The trees seemed to sympathize, crying red and yellow leaves.

As I walked that morning to my new school, I thought about how the trees seemed to whisper to me – called to me – telling me the stories of their plant lives. I shook my head. Whispering plants are the work of daydreams. My guess is lots of people get lost in their fantasies as they walk to school. They dream about everything but that fateful walk stirring up dread of their new homeroom, the new school bullies, or the inevitable new-found isolation.

I could have picked the three brothers out as being related. Each was the image of the other with some intentional mistakes. A change of height, length of hair, and a shade of Aegean ready skin showed their blood. How could I know I would change them? How they would change me?

I should have been able to see it. It is the mark of the other I carried with me, something outside that kept me from truly being a part of anything. Every day as I walked to school fantasizing about a different life, I put my hand out in front of me. Sometimes it felt that if I could be in just the right place and time my hand would disappear and I would find a place hidden beneath this one – a reality layered under the one in which I lived. Then I could step through to the other side. That day, when I stuck my hand out, as usual, nothing happened. I sighed in disappointment.

I blamed my parents who carted me around from town to town every so many years. Lately, it felt like months. That day was my first at this particular school. It had been less than a year since our last move. Our moves had gotten more frequent. Maybe my parents felt I could cope with it better – never making any connections so there were none to break. I didn't expect anything different to happen here.

Meeting the first was an accident. In high school, certain people tend to flock together, forming cliques which could be seen even from a distance. As I didn't know anyone from the area, there was no one to meet me. The student body milling around the entrance, like so many high schools across New England, boasted collared knit shirts, khakis, and boat shoes. It was clear from my fitted second-hand red pants, big black boots, and black velvet shirt I did what I chose. Even though I rarely made lasting friends, I was never a wall flower. When I was twelve, I was one of the first girls to have a noticeable chest and hips. From then on my figure had taken the hourglass to superheroine curves. It was impossible to hide myself even when I tried. Everything clung to me in one way or another. It was both a blessing and a curse.

It must have been my red pants that caught the boy's attention, or maybe that I was new and female. He came loping up to me across the brick and stone courtyard before first period. His hair hit just at his shoulder in a shaggy shape that looked like it had been a long time since he last cut it. Despite his unkempt hair, he was hot. Maybe it was the way it partially obscured his light brown eyes, or the way it shook as he walked. Normally someone like this coming towards me would have made me feel awkward. With this boy, all I could think was he reminded me of a lion.

You're new here. It was an observation he made as he looked me over.

Yeah? I raised my brows at him.

I'm Julian. He kind of waved his large olive hands at me.

Khloe.

What year are you?

Junior. He broke into a grin. It was so unassuming, I let my guard down enough to give him a tight smile in return.

Same as me! Nice! What's your class schedule? It wasn't until he was standing next to me that I noticed just how big he was. I'm not a small girl at five feet eight inches, but Julian dwarfed me with his height just north of six feet and shoulders half as wide as he was tall. He pushed his dark shaggy mane behind his ears while he glanced down at my schedule. Standing as close as he did, I noticed he had a peculiar smell for a high school giant. It reminded me of furniture polish and wood varnish, and maybe something like fresh-cut grass. Glancing over him, I couldn't see any stains that pegged him as working on cabinetry, or mowing lawns, so I turned my attention back to the folded paper determining my fate.

Your first class is near mine. I'll walk you there!

Walking with Julian was a horrible idea. Isolation was familiar to me. I was often alone.. The entourage that Julian attracted was loud, boisterous, and chittering like a large flock of bats. It was too much, too soon. There was a frenzied nature to their interactions that made me long for isolation. Girls tried to garner Julian's attention – flirting in their several-sizes-too-small shirts, showing too much belly, and too much boob. Boys clamored for higher places in the social pecking order by showing their closeness to Julian, who was close to the top. I fought down the competing reflexes to guffaw, faint, or vomit. The closer we got to our classrooms, the more inconvenient Julian's friends became. He couldn't walk more than two feet before someone else stopped him, wanting to catch up after the summer break. Generally his acquaintances looked at me in order to figure out who I was. The question was my relationship with Julian. I could see it in their eyes and posture. They seemed to ask, Who is this girl? How did she usurp me?!

I couldn't have known. It was too strange. It didn't take me long to get used to the idea of having a potential friend, even if it was doomed to failure. The problem was, it was bound to get more complicated. It always did. After all, it was high school.

At lunch, I had to get myself something from the cafeteria. Scoping out the different lines, my eyes kept coming back to a semi-familiar frame. It was the same broad back, same height, and even something like the movements of Julian. Feeling brave I got in line and tapped him on the shoulder.

Yes? The face that turned to me was so like Julian and so unlike him. He was just a shade lighter in the skin, his cheeks thinner, his jaw more sharply cut. As he moved I noticed a level of grace that Julian lacked. I also noticed that his broad back wasn't as broad as Julian's. It was just an illusion created by the large jacket he wore. His hair, covered by a beanie, could have been any length. His eyes however, were the same color and shape. Either this boy was related to Julian, or he was a doppelgänger.

Uh... I gaped at him. He raised his brows at me and smiled crookedly.

You must be looking for Julian.

But... Speechless, I pointed at the boy who looked so much like the one I met earlier. Just at that moment, Julian bounded up behind this confusing specimen.

I see you met Leo. He's my twin. Julian grinned widely at both of us before giving his twin a wry look. Leo flashed me a toothy grin. We get into trouble together all the time. He plans it and I get blamed. Now they chuckled showing their pointy teeth. Apparently I had more to worry about than my clingy red pants.

This is Khloe. She's new. Julian gestured to me.

A pleasure. Leo nodded and smirked as only a cheeky boy can.

Likely. I gave him the hint of a glare. I had dealt with enough boys who had something to prove. I wasn't interested in wasting my time on them. And all boys in high school have something to prove. It's a male gender prerequisite.

You should sit with us. We can introduce you to some of our friends. Leo seemed genuinely interested now. I hesitated. My instinct was to hide in a corner away from everyone. Hiding would be impossible with these boys. Being in the open was a tactic I had never tried. It was both intriguing and frightening. Sensing my weakness, Leo pressed. What do you have to lose?

My dignity?

They laughed as I followed them, despite myself, to a bench in the outside courtyard. I guessed most people ate lunch in the courtyard during the nicer months. Once things turned to snow and ice it was less likely that you would find anyone outside, excepting the lone smoker. I couldn't imagine anyone crazy enough to eat outside regularly during the cold dreary months...

Structured like a nineteenth century city square, the courtyard was extremely open. With buildings surrounding the outside edge, brick and cobble ground, bushes, trees, and autumn flowers, it was a gorgeous spot. I felt drawn to it in a way I rarely was. It was a lovely mixture of humanity and the natural world. Fallen leaves ground into the dirt between bricks hoping to fertilize some long lost flora's progeny. Lost in my head, it took me a few minutes before I noticed Julian trying to grab my attention.

Khloe?

Hmm?

"Where did you go?" Julian grinned at me quizzically. Leo was laughing in the background. Mouth mid-laugh I could see the twin's sharp teeth. Perhaps his name was more appropriate than I originally thought.

I was looking at the leaves on the ground, I said bashfully. This time Julian laughed and Leo looked up.

Are you an artist? Leo asked excitedly.

Um, a bit, I guess, I shrugged. I couldn't draw a straight line to save my life. Curved lines were something altogether different. And plants, well, that was my specialty.

Are you taking an art class?

Isn't there just one?

No! We have TONS! This school is known for its art program. It's a regular high school for the artsy. We also have a kick-ass music program. But, that's more Julian's thing. Leo nodded to his brother and Julian grinned. I'm the artist. They were impatient little boys jockeying for attention and position, so excited to have found a new friend. They had to flaunt everything about their little kingdom.

Well I sing too, I said brightly. Julian's glow inexplicably dimmed. Leo on the other hand turned back into his sardonic self, crossed his arms and leaned back against one of the stone benches.

Of course you do, Julian muttered, of course.

After lunch Leo brought me to art. I had expected a drab dank room in the basement like my old school. This was something altogether different. The room's two far walls combined into a giant curving piece of paneled glass. The window didn't show the sports fields or the parking lot, but the woods behind the school. It was a pleasant surprise with its greens, browns, and various floral lines. It felt like a secret view. The woods were something that was hidden, visible only to those students able and willing to seek it. I let out an audible gasp as the teacher approached us.

Ah Leo, new student?

Yes Mr. Jacobsen. She says she's quite the artist.

I glared at Leo which made him smirk.

Well she'd have to be if she is signed up for an advanced class.

I felt vindicated by this teacher I had never met. It was true this class had several prerequisites, but the teacher had not required to see a portfolio for entry – this was still a public school. For all he knew, I could have been abysmal. Mr. Jacobsen's eyes sparkled as he looked back at Leo. By the way, take your beanie off. You know hats aren't allowed indoors.

But Mrs. Parks lets me -

Mrs. Parks has spectacles for her spectacles. Take it off. Mr. Jacobsen folded his arms and glared at the twin. Leo sighed and removed his hat. I immediately understood why he wore a hat. In fact, it was likely a safety precaution, not just for him, but for everyone. Most boys wake up in the morning, don't comb their hair, and don't wash it, leaving themselves a classic case of bed-head. As such, the hat is to cover their atrocious hair hygiene. Leo had a very different problem. Having removed his hat, a sheet of long, silky, dark waves fell to his mid-back. When it did, about five girls turned and stared. I couldn't help but recount the stories of angels enamored by human hair. His was so luxurious, so utterly glorious in its thickness, waves, and shine, everyone was awestruck. Any woman would have killed for his hair – either to be on her head, or just in her hand. It must have been a hazard in the halls, girls tripping over themselves just to touch his hair. Traffic jams, bodily injuries, and tardiness must have plagued Leo throughout his schooling.

See you later Khloe. He waved as he left. When he did, the same five girls who had stared at him, glared at me. Mr. Jacobsen just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Well, we're still on our first lesson, so you won't have missed anything. He gestured for me to sit at one of the tables which had two short easels arranged on top. Now I do see you are on the roster for this course. Does that mean you've had elements of drawing and painting? I nodded. And what about acrylics, watercolor, and oil?

We just started working with oils before I left sir. I looked at him expectantly. This time Mr. Jacobsen smiled.

Excellent. You don't need to call me sir, Mr. Jacobsen will do. Then he turned away from me and addressed the class. Today we'll continue with our fall landscapes. Please make sure to use some of the same techniques we've studied from the Dutch masters. This drew a snicker from one table in the front. And I don't mean cheap cigarillos! Do honor to the turbulent varied skies! Obviously here we have more highlands than the Dutch do, but we still have the same glorious clouds. He gestured out the window. Chop chop! He turned once again to my table and addressed the girl next to me, Dani, could you be so kind and help show Khloe around? Help her find materials? The silent girl nodded.

When I turned to her, I immediately noticed she was more light than dark. Everything about her seemed bleached out. Her hair was fine and nearly white. Her skin barely held the smallest blushes of pink, and her eyes were the white blue that could only come from Northern Europe. Her frame was just as delicate and thin as her coloring. When she finally spoke, it seemed her voice had undergone the same strange transformation.

So, I guess I'll show you where to get canvas and such. She smiled a light smile at me. She was so gentle I had to smile back. We walked to one of the series of shelves in the back of the classroom. Where are you from?

Everywhere. Nowhere. I laughed under my breath. If only she knew how many houses and apartments I had lived in over the last five years.

Military?

Research. This caused her to turn to look at me more carefully for some time. There was something behind her eyes that I couldn't quite make out. This was turning into a stranger town than I originally expected.

Ah. Well, here is your canvas. Paints are there on the table and palettes and brushes are just beyond. She gestured and it seemed as though her arms floated, she was so graceful and light. I thought of my own movements. There was nothing light about them. They seemed wooden, thick as branches, and next to Dani, they appeared dark. This amused me as the last place I had been, I was the pasty girl.

I was itching to paint but I wasn't interested in the sky as much as I was with the plants below. Still I forced myself to dedicate half the surface to the colorful blue and white fall sky. After I blocked out the plants, I did a light wash. For all Mr. Jacobsen had said about oils, his class was working in acrylics. It was just as well, as oil takes so long to dry that nothing would get accomplished in a single period of class. Satisfied with my wash, I began blocking out color fields. It was a pleasure working in the autumn color palette. Everything was on fire, giving off its last life force before retreating into winter. Winter. I shivered. It was a season I hated above all others. It was so cold and drab. There was nothing alive about it. It didn't help it had other worse associations. My thoughts went to my mother – the mother I hadn't seen for a month. Every year she would disappear at around the same time. This year it was even earlier. I tried to focus on autumn as best I could. Still, I couldn't shake my concern. It was something that crept into the back of my thoughts, coloring them blacker than mars pigment. This time her absence filled me with dread. Everything felt a little wrong, a little less certain this year. I kept waking up in the middle of the night in cold sweats with glimmers of dreams that I couldn't clearly recall or understand. It caused me to shudder. Dani noticed.

You all right? She let her gaze lay on me lightly. I couldn't imagine her able to hold a penetrating gaze like those my mother could. I concentrated on regulating my breath. Breathing helps to slow the heart and calm a person's body. Mine responded like clockwork.

Yes. Yeah, fine. I smiled tightly.

The Grech boys seem to like you, she said casually as she returned to her sky. Hers took up at least four fifths of her canvas. I wondered how she could balance the piece with so little land.

Grech boys?

Julian... She smiled a tight smile.

Oh right.

Leo... She blotted her wet brush on a towel.

I guess. I went back to my reds and oranges.

Constantine...

Who? I asked, turning to her.

I guess you didn't meet him yet. She calmly applied a pale lilac to the top quarter of her canvas. They like to meet everyone first. It makes them feel, you know, in control. She smiled conspiratorially before turning back to her painting. I smiled hesitantly and laughed. I couldn't help it. She made them sound so odd. Although, what parents in their right minds would choose those three names for their kids? It sounded like they had pulled them out of a random ancient world name hat cursing their sons until at least the age of eighteen.

As I laughed, she looked at me, first with concern and then she shook her head with the slightest of smiles.

Boys! Dani giggled. Her laugh, like her, was light as a wind chime. She giggled her light high laugh while mine bubbled forth lower, seemingly meant to harmonize with hers. We laughed like this as I painted the earth and she her sky. For the first time in a long time, I truly connected with someone. Dani could be a friend.

At the end of class, Dani and I both dawdled.

Do you have music class in the afternoon? I asked.

Oh yes. Choir. Next. She paused, How did you guess?

Just your voice. I bet you have a really clear tone.

She smiled a full smile. The sun might have shone through her it was so warm and bright. I do actually. Do you have choir then too?

Yeah. I was hoping we could go together. See, I don't know where I'm going...

No problem.

The music rooms were on the opposite side of the building from the art rooms. It is a misnomer to call either set rooms. Really, each had a wing devoted to the subject. Music included the theater as well as many practice rooms and a sound engineering booth.

Wow! I was smiling again. Before I could take it in, hands were over my eyes.

Guess who?

Julian?

You're good at this game! He released me and looked genuinely impressed.

I don't know that many people here. Process of elimination. I gave him a wry look.

Oh, right. His tan skin betrayed the slightest blush before disappearing from view. He quickly turned his attention to my pale companion. Hey Dani! How was your summer?

Good. Yours? I wasn't sure if it was the light or my imagination, but Dani seemed to take on more color as I watched. Her light hair seemed to gain a golden tinge, her skin more bronze, lips more pink. Her eyes were the deepest of blues. She became a completely different person. I blinked my eyes, but when I looked back she was herself, light, gamine, and aerial.

Great! Well listen, I gotta get warmed up. I'll see you guys in there! He winked at us both and was gone. Dani sighed.

"Wait, do you like him?" I squinted at her. She laughed daintily.

Don't be silly. She fidgeted, exhaling under my steady gaze. I'm not his type. We walked down the stairs to the second row of stadium style choir seats. Actually, you're more his type. She shot me a questioning glance. I furrowed my brows.

Um, how do you know?

"Because we've known each other our entire lives. We grew up together. Our parents are close." She said the words deliberately. There was more meaning hidden there than I could understand. I looked at her trying to find a tell, but when nothing came, I gave up.

So what?

They tend to like girls who have more to them. Curves and such. More colorful.

Wait... what?

You know what I mean. She smiled tightly.

Well he's all yours. I threw up my hands. She might have known the Grech boys, but she didn't know me. I didn't form attachments, not like that. My response made her laugh.

Not a chance. She shook her head and smiled at me like she pitied me.

Quiet down everyone! A short stout flushed woman with peppery hair bellowed above the chatty students. As many of you know, I'm Mrs. Miller. Welcome back to our returning students and welcome to choir for those new faces! She turned her red smiling face around the room. Julian will accompany us. She gestured to the piano. I was a little shocked as he grinned and winked at me - not for the attention, that was typical. Rather, it was shocking because a student was accompanying the choir. He'll take us through some warm up exercises and then we'll sort out those new faces into parts and projects.

Projects? I whispered to Dani.

Special music projects. You'll see.

After going through a few warm ups, return faces broke off into special projects while fresh meat had to audition. There were maybe four or five of us. The others were younger than me and looked fairly nervous. I zoned out as they negotiated singing parts and styles. It seemed special projects focused on specific genres of music. This was something I had never seen before, not even in private schools.

Khloe Alwell? Mrs. Miller looked at me inquisitively. I nodded. Well deary, let's hear from you. What part do you sing?

Uh, well, I can sing both alto and soprano.

Really? This piqued her interest. Julian, let's try a few scales to get the range. After a few scales up and down, she put some Simon and Garfunkel in front of me. Do you know 'Scarborough Fair'?

Yes ma'am. This rattled her a bit. In the South you couldn't go anywhere without addressing strangers formally with 'sir' or 'ma'am.' I guess teachers in New England weren't used to proper manners. My mother had always taught me a certain level of respect, especially for those in authority. You never knew how they might impact you.

Well then, let's try it. Shall we? Somehow she pursed her lips and smiled at once. I wondered if this was a skill singing teachers acquired after years of manipulating their lips. Julian began playing and I found myself lost in the notes. There was such a strong pull in the chord progression. My voice responded to the swell of the piano and as I sang the herb names, my voice flowered. I was no longer myself. I was the song. I was a vessel for the music, and it flowed out of me, coating every object in the room, resonating. My heart was full and I was free. I closed my eyes as I sang the last few lines, weeping inside for the loss of the song. Suddenly it was quiet. I opened my eyes to see both Mrs. Miller and Julian looking shell-shocked by my performance. As a junior, I was last, so they were all the audience I had.

Where did you learn to sing like that? whispered Mrs. Miller as she stumbled, trance-like, in my direction.

My mother sang. Sings I corrected in my head. I took lessons at my last school. And the one before that, and the one before that ad infinitum.

Well, what do you like to sing the most?

Just about anything. I thought about it, and short of twangy country western and headache-inducing metal, I couldn't think of any genre I wouldn't sing. I just loved song.

Well, what do you think Julian? Mrs. Miller continued to look at me, frowning as she puzzled where to place me. Julian?

What? He was still looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. It was at once guarded, pleading, and surprised.

Did you hear me? What project do you think Ms. Alwell should work on? She was getting a bit cross. Finally Julian tore his eyes away from me, and he turned to Mrs. Miller as he closed the piano.

I think – I think she should see for herself what the different projects are doing. Then she can decide after a day or so.

Hmm. Yes, I think we'll do that. Your range is fairly broad, and your quality could go too many directions. You can change projects mid-term if you decide you'd like to try a different vocal style then. I don't think you should have to be hemmed in, what with your talent. She grinned at me as she gathered up her papers. Julian would you take Ms. Alwell around so she can listen to the different groups? I'm going to go check on the chorale.

When Julian came up to me, he looked into my face with such urgency and uncertainty I wasn't sure what I had done. It was almost a fear in his face, or a hunger. It was something I had seen only glimpses of in a handful of faces over my short life. This had a level of intensity that was startling.

Who are you? The words came in barely a whisper. It was a stark departure from his happy-go-lucky self.

I'm Khloe. I stared at him levelly until his hackles sank down. Finally he chuckled.

I know your name. This time he touched my arm with his huge hand. "But who are you? Why did you come here?"

I don't understand what you mean. I go where my parents go. Not really. I only go where one of them goes, and even then does it count? There was so little I understood of my parents.

What do your parents do?

Research.

Julian looked at me sharply. His reaction was the same as Dani's. It lasted a moment, and then it was gone. I fidgeted. These people were deeply unsettling.

Okay. He relaxed. I'm sorry... I think I upset you.

Just a little weird.

Right, he chuckled, let's get you around to the music projects. Even as we walked from jazz, to classical, to opera, to Celtic and American folk, I could see there was still something guarded about the way Julian shepherded me. It was at once protective and defensive, as though he wasn't sure if I was a threat, or if I would be threatened. By what, I couldn't imagine. Though it was high school.

When I got out of school I walked the few leaf-strewn blocks it took to get to my temporary residence. My stepfather was home as usual. It was nice to have something predictable in my life. I liked him well enough. Sometimes I called him by his first name, Bruce, when I was mad at him. Normally I just called him 'Dad.' He was a bland guy with mousy brown hair which was slowly balding. His wire frame glasses were always partly askew. He meant well. At least he was always there for me, regardless of what my birth parents did. I could always count on my stepfather.

Hey Khloe! How was your first day? I could hear the sounds of pots and pans clanging, oil bubbling, and smell the rich fatty fish scent of salmon drenched in lemon, basil, and garlic.

Smells good Dad!

Thanks honey. He balanced veggies in one pan and salmon in the other. Meanwhile potatoes boiled in a pot on the back burner. You didn't answer my question.

It was odd. I plopped down in one of the wooden dining room chairs. The new house was spacious, even for an old New England house. The ceilings were high, the walls were white, and the windows were large. My guess is that someone had renovated the place to give it a more modern feel and open up the tiny dark rooms. My mother always chose the most airy buildings she could find - places filled with light.

What do you mean odd?

I don't know. This place is filled with weird people. My stepfather stopped cooking and turned to face me.

How do you mean? He had his hands buried in a kitchen towel. It looked as though he was clinging to it to steady himself – something he did when he was nervous.

I met some people. I gave him a weird look.

Really? That's great! He lost his nervous edge immediately. We both knew how rare it was for me to meet anyone with whom I could be friends. It was something my stepfather was always pushing me to do – meet people - be with people.

Yeah. I met this set of twins. Boys. They kind of helped me around campus.

Twins?

I know, how often do you meet a set of twins?

Boys you said?

Yeah, last name Grech. I pulled out my homework, setting it down on the table before me.

Oh, he paused. Did you know the Grechs are one of the most important families in town?

No. Why would I? Pulling out a pen, I set to answering the short answer portion.

I suppose not. They own the land where your mother is doing her research.

Oh.

Actually, they own most things around here. Phillip Grech, their father, he has a hand in just about everything that happens in town. Everything goes through him. He paused as he turned back to our dinner. How did you meet them?

They came to me. The twins.

My stepfather turned sharply back to me. Really?

Yeah. They went everywhere with me, except for when this girl, Dani was with me. She's in my art and music classes. She also helped me around. I fiddled with my homework. She was odd too.

How so? He was paying attention to cooking again. By the smell it seemed like it was almost done.

"She was full of light. She was just light. Everything about her." The sounds from the stove ceased.

What was her last name? I could tell he was trying to probe but there was nothing there to find.

I don't know. I didn't find out. She said she grew up with the Grechs though. Seemed she was really attached to Julian. That's one of the twins.

Hmm. Then he dropped the subject. We ate dinner on the kitchen table, I did my homework, and suddenly I found myself lying in my bed staring at my ceiling trying to sleep. It was a rare thing. Normally I crashed. I tended to get sleepy almost as soon as the sun went down. I did wake up at the same time every night, but then I could go back to sleep almost as quickly. My stepfather said it was because I had a very specific body rhythm which was hereditary. My mother never talked about it, nor had I ever talked with her about it. In fact, it had been a long time since I had spoken to my mother at all. I couldn't remember if it was the beginning of summer, or the beginning of spring when she came back. We had done things together over the months of warmth, and then she disappeared into her research as soon as autumn appeared.

I assumed she had a bad case of seasonal affective disorder with her connection to changes in climate. I always thought we should live near the equator, but when I suggested it, my mother laughed. She would respond with something like But then how would I know when it was?

Now on top of my strange parental issues I had this set of twins to think about - and Dani. I felt a connection to all three of them, but it was a novel thing that I didn't understand. And what had Dani said? There was a third brother. The twins had ambivalent feelings towards him. There was something complicated there. But this was high school, where complicated was expected. It was a prerequisite.

Chapter 2 - Constantine

The next morning I walked to school. It was drizzling. I wasn't sure how to get the correct colors for my Dutch Master painting with that kind of cloud cover. Maybe Mr. Jacobsen would have a brilliant idea. Then again, maybe Dani would. It seemed the sky was her cup of tea.

The walk was pleasant. It was only a few blocks, but I had set out early so I could savor my time outside. I enjoyed the squelching sounds of the wet leaves under my boots. The smell of rain mingling with rotting leaves, damp cement, and dirt welcomed me. I smiled and skipped the rest of the way down the block. I stopped at the crosswalk but not before a dark car passed. I was sure they must have seen me skipping and immediately felt embarrassed. I knew I shouldn't. Still, I couldn't bring myself to feel entirely comfortable in this place the way I had in others. In our last town I hadn't cared what happened one way or another. It had been a dry and dusty place. I think my mother had decided it wasn't the right place for us so we moved. We took a vacation in summer through the Finger Lakes on our way to Massachusetts. It was a lot of fun. Even though we hadn't talked much, the three of us did things together every day. There was plenty of hiking, swimming, and kayaking. We had bonfires on the lakefront and lay out watching fireflies and stars – which we got mixed up in our minds, making us laugh at ourselves.

I was lost in my summer thoughts as I came up to the school. I could see the parking lot. I glanced at it, not thinking until I spotted the dark car that passed me earlier. Leaning against it in the cool pre-autumnal air, was a form that looked somehow familiar, and yet not. He was beautiful. His hair was short, but long enough to show off dark waves. Even from afar I saw his pea coat wasn't responsible for giving him broad shoulders. His skin was the same color as mine, somewhere between olive and pink. He could have tanned easily, but with too much sun I knew he would have peeled. He must have sensed me staring at him, because he turned my direction. For a moment our eyes locked, and his mouth curved on one side. Startled, I looked away, somehow finding my way to the courtyard.

I had to catch my breath. I sat down on one of the stone benches and became engrossed in a few small birds picking at crumbs left from some breakfast bread. Who was that guy? I know him. Somehow I did know him despite never having met him. The longer I stayed, the less at ease I became in my new town.

As I watched the patterns of the birds pecking away at their breakfast in the courtyard, Leo and Dani came up.

Morning! Leo was as chipper as his thoughtful demeanor would allow.

Hello. Dani was less so. It was as though she was just as affected by the weather as my mother was by the seasons.

Hey. I looked up and smiled at them.

You're in a good mood today. Leo grinned at me.

How can you tell? I furrowed my brow.

Skipping? He raised his brows. We were in the dark car that passed you this morning.

Right. I grimaced.I like the sound of the wet dead leaves. Skipping just seemed the next progression. I shrugged and we all grinned. Where's Julian?

"Oh, well, uh he's got some things he needed to