Shooting Star
Prologue
Age 13
“ D ad hates me.” I drop down on my bed in my room and glance up at my sister with tears in my eyes.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Harmony disagrees. “He just doesn’t want you holing up inside your room all winter.”
“I don’t have the entire winter,” I grumble. “Just the month we’re off for Christmas break.” I should be allowed to hang out in my room if I want to. I do what I’m supposed to. I make good grades. Harmony doesn’t care about those types of things. She just wants to become a famous actress like our mom.
“If you had your way, you’d stay in your room every single day and you wouldn’t interact with any of us.”
“That’s not true.” I frown. I love my family. But they’re all outgoing, unlike me. They don’t understand me.
“It is true.” She shakes her head. “You’d read from the time you wake up until you go to sleep if you could.”
“You’re probably right,” I admit. Books are my escape from the world and my life where I don’t fit in. There’s no judgment in books and no one staring back at me like I’m odd. I’m never alone with a good book in my hands or my favorite music in my ears.
“You’re weird, but I love you.” She drops down on the bed beside me. We’re identical twins. We both have long, straight blond hair and brown eyes, though Harmony’s have a little peridot-green in them like our mom’s, whereas mine have a little gold like our dad’s.
“I should be allowed to do what I want at home,” I complain. On the foot of the bed, I swing my legs that don’t quite reach the floor.
“Yeah,” she agrees, peeling back a strand of hair so she can look at me. “But you shouldn’t argue with Dad. He’s too stubborn. You’ll never win. You’ll just make him mad.”
“Maybe.”
“It won’t be so bad having company at the house.” She tilts her head. “Aren’t you excited to finally spend time with his bandmates and get to meet their families?”
“I guess.” I swing my legs faster, my gaze falling on my favorite pair of pink fuzzy slippers. I’m as curious about the men who have shaped our father’s life as Harmony. Our father is Warren “War” Jinkins, the lead singer of Tempest, and he has known his bandmates since the band was formed in high school. He talks to each of them almost every day, even when they’re not on tour. Sometimes I feel like his bandmates are more important to him than we are, though I’d never voice that thought aloud.
“Bryan’s son is coming. So is King’s daughter.”
“I know. Mom told me.” Bryan “Bullet” Jackson is the lead guitarist in Tempest and he’s our dad’s best friend. Juaquin “King” Acenado is the drummer.
“I know you’re nervous, Peace, but stop fidgeting.” Harmony places her arm on my knees, and I stop swinging my legs. My sister is comfortable in her own skin. She doesn’t need to escape into books or music. She doesn’t try to fade into the background like me. She loves being the center of attention, just like our parents. Unlike me, she belongs in this family.
“Boy or girl, it won’t matter.” I shrug. They’ll love Harmony instantly, and I’ll just disappear like I always do.
“Girls.” Our mother, Shaina Bentley Jinkins, Academy-award-winning actress, beckons from the doorway. “It’s time to go downstairs. The Jacksons have arrived.”
“Okay, Mom,” Harmony says.
We both stand. Harmony reaches our mom before me because I detour to my desk to grab my current read. The Boxcar Children is a reread actually. With a ready escape for my shyness in my hand, there’s a soft but not quite as nervous smile on my lips when I follow Harmony and my mom into the foyer where my dad is waiting for us. Snowflakes swirl around him from the open front door. As I step off the last stair, our father pulls our mother into his arms. I wrinkle my nose as he kisses her on the mouth, not a quick kiss but a long one. My cheeks warm, though I should be accustomed to it. They’re always openly affectionate.
As I glance away from them, my gaze lands on a boy, a very handsome one. Stepping into the foyer, he removes the navy beanie from his head. The walls seem to recede, and he comes into sharper focus as his striking gray-green eyes lock on my ordinary brown and gold ones. My heart racing, I notice this boy is a younger version of the older man who comes inside to stand beside him. Father and son are wearing similar navy coats. Both have a dusting of snowflakes in their light brown hair.
“I’ll get Bry situated,” Dad tells Mom. “Can you escort Lace and Robert to the others?”
“Sure.” Mom gives Bryan’s wife and her son a beautiful, confident smile. “We’re glad you got here safely. It’s good to see you, Lace.”
“You too, Shay.” Lace uses one of my mother’s nicknames as she comes farther inside. “Wow, your home is stunning. I love all the family portraits.” She nods approvingly as she glances around the expansive two-story rotunda.
“Thanks. We like it here. The extra square footage is good to have with the girls getting older.” Mom gestures to the hall behind her. “Everyone else is already in the gathering space.”
“Awesome.” Lace joins her, and they enter the hall together, conversing in a quiet tone. My sister and I follow them, but a tug inside my chest has me stopping. Glancing over my shoulder, much to my surprise, I discover that Robert is staring at me. My entire body goes electric with excitement like whenever I step inside a bookstore.
Holding my gaze, Robert slowly grins. With my heart doing backflips, I return his smile. I couldn’t hold in the sudden and unexpected rush of happiness if I tried.
“C’mon, Peace.” Harmony grabs my arm.
“Okay.” I go with my sister, carrying a new lightness inside me. For the first time in my life, I feel seen, noticed, me rather than my twin.