Chapter 6
As I pulled up in front of the familiar Mediterranean-style house, I nearly sobbed in relief.
There wasn’t a single thing about the Hernandezes’ home I didn’t adore.
From the stucco walls and terra-cotta tile roof to the colorful artwork hanging on every wall in every room and the perpetually cluttered kitchen, each square inch radiated warmth and love and safety.
It reminded me of what our house in San Bernardino used to feel like, back before we moved.
I raced up the front walk and rang the bell.
Thirty seconds passed before the door flew open. Sofia stood on the other side, her youngest brother, David, perched on her hip and a phone pressed to her ear. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but a shout from the kitchen cut me off.
“Is that the pizza?!”
“No, it’s Indie!” she yelled back. David stretched his chubby arms in my direction, so Sofia pawned him off on me before switching the phone to her other ear and saying, “Yes, of course I’m still listening.”
Another shout: “What about the Indy?” It sounded like Javier.
“Not the race, you idiot! My best friend!” Sofia hollered, her gaze flicking upward in annoyance.
She must have been on the phone with her mom, because she quickly added, “Lo siento, Mami. It won’t happen again.
” Waving me inside, Sofia continued her conversation.
“I have the grocery shopping covered, but that birthday party Emma was invited to is at the same time as Javi’s cross-country meet, so I asked Mrs. Holliburger to pick her up. ”
We headed toward the kitchen. As soon as I crossed the threshold, something barreled into me, nearly knocking David from my arms. Emma, Sofia’s seven-year-old sister, wrapped her arms around my waist.
“Indie!” she exclaimed. “It’s been so long. I missed you.”
“Whoa. Careful, kiddo,” I said, returning her hug. “I nearly dropped your little brother.”
“That’s okay. He’s got a hard head. He fell out of his high chair yesterday when Javi was feeding him. Didn’t cry at all.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Javier grumbled. He was perched on an island barstool, his face all but pressed against the small TV positioned alongside the wall. “You’re the one who put him in, Emma. How was I supposed to know the buckle wasn’t clipped?”
Emma grinned mischievously and pulled me over to the table. Colorful string sat in a pile alongside a pair of scissors and a container filled with plastic beads. “I learned how to make friendship bracelets at Girl Scouts today. Want me to make you one?”
“I’d love that,” I told her. David started squirming in my arms, so I transferred him to my other hip.
“What color do you want?” she asked, pushing the selection of string toward me. “You can pick anything but blue or green.”
“Why’s that?”
“Blue’s my favorite, so it’s reserved for me.” She set aside a tangle of turquoise and navy. “And Javi already claimed green.”
“I didn’t claim anything. If she wants green, she can have it. I don’t care,” Javier said, eyes still glued to the TV. Some kind of race was on, and he seemed transfixed by the blur of cars.
“Hmm. How about red?” I suggested.
She nodded in approval. “I can work with that.”
By the time Sofia got off the phone, Emma was already in the process of braiding.
“I’m sorry. Mom’s gone on a business trip, so it’s chaos around here,” she explained.
Mrs. Hernandez was the top management consultant at Berry Wagner & Company, a local consulting firm.
Although most of her work was based in California, she sometimes took jobs that required her to travel around the country.
When she wasn’t busy advising clients on how to better run their business, she taught a kickboxing class at the YMCA. Basically, she was a badass.
“Where’s your dad?” I asked, glancing at the living room couch where Mr. H usually camped out with his laptop. He ran a web design business from home so someone was always around to look after David and Emma, but today he was nowhere to be seen.
“Taking care of his aunt in Phoenix. She came down with smallpox or something.”
I frowned. “Pretty sure smallpox was eradicated back in the eighties.”
“She has shingles, you dipshit,” Javier clarified.
“Oooh! If Mom knew you used a swear word, you’d lose TV privileges for a week,” Emma told her brother.
He whirled around on the barstool. “But we both know she won’t find out, right, Emma? Because if she does, Abrahamster Lincoln will go poof in the dead of night, and you’ll never see him again.”
Eyes wide, I leaned toward Sofia and whispered, “Did he just threaten to off your sister’s hamster?”
She glanced at her sibling and shrugged. “That’s the least of my problems. My parents left me in charge while they’re gone, which means I have to do everything around here.”
“Hey, I took care of dinner tonight.”
“Congrats, Javi. You picked up the phone and placed an order. David can’t speak in full sentences, and he could’ve done that.”
“Fruloo!” David squawked in response. “Fruloo, fruloo, fruloo!”
My brain wasn’t hardwired to interpret baby babble, but Sofia understood what he was asking for and pulled a box of Froot Loops from the pantry.
“So what’s with the impromptu visit?” she asked, pouring the colorful cereal into a small bowl. “Not that this isn’t a totally awesome surprise, but I thought we weren’t hanging out until tomorrow?”
Her question slammed me back to reality.
For a few precious minutes, I was so blissfully distracted I nearly forgot about my discovery at home.
“We were, but…something happened, and I had to get out of the house.” After finding the script, I’d packed an overnight bag and slipped out without telling anyone I was leaving.
I wondered if my dad, who was still on the phone when I’d glanced into the kitchen, had even noticed I was gone.
Frowning, Sofia took David from my arms and put him in his high chair. “With Violet?”
“Kind of,” I said, my gaze darting between Sofia’s siblings before returning to her, “but do you mind if we talk somewhere more private?”
“Sure thing. Javi, I’m gonna catch up with Indie. You’re in charge of Emma and David while I’m gone. That means you have to pull yourself away from the TV for five seconds to answer the door when the delivery guy arrives. Think you can handle that?”
“Hey!” Emma complained. “I’m almost eight. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You’re right. Almost eight-year-olds are practically adults. Why don’t you keep an eye on Javi for me? We don’t want another high chair incident.”
Emma grinned and saluted her sister while Javier protested. “That wasn’t my fault!”
But Sofia ignored him, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me out of the kitchen.
Upstairs, I pushed a stack of Marvel movies away from the foot of her bed and took a seat, leaning against the old wooden frame. There was nowhere else to sit. Every inch of space was utilized.
The single mattress was buried beneath a tower of tie-dyed pillows and laundry so high that I wondered where Sofia slept at night.
A tiny worktable held her most prized possession, a heavy-duty Singer sewing machine, along with a collection of fashion magazines and a garden of tomato pincushions.
In the corner, bolts of fabric were stockpiled against the wall next to stackable storage bins filled with lace and zippers and bows and buttons.
My favorite part of Sofia’s space stood directly in the middle—a vintage wire dress form that always displayed her current design.
Today, pale blue chiffon poured down over the mannequin like liquid sky while the bodice sparkled with hundreds of hand-stitched crystals.
It was a modern-day ball gown fit for Cinderella.
“This is gorgeous,” I said, eyeing the dress. My mind spun with inspiration, already considering different makeup concepts that would match her creation. Something ethereal and otherworldly, like an ice queen or fairy princess.
Sofia opened her closet, peered inside, and slammed it shut before an avalanche of shoes spilled out. “Thanks,” she said, barely acknowledging my compliment. “It’s for my cousin’s quinceanera.”
I cocked my head and watched as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, digging through a basket of scarves and ransacking her collection of stuffed animals on the windowsill. If I wasn’t feeling so shitty, I’d have laughed at how ridiculous she looked. “What are you doing?”
“Emma hid the old nanny cam in my room last week and used it to spy on me, so I’m making sure we’re totally alone.” She dropped down to her knees and searched under the bed before popping back up. “All right, I think the coast is clear. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I found this on my dad’s desk today,” I said, pulling the manila folder from my bag and thrusting it in Sofia’s direction.
“Holy crap!” she gasped after scanning the page. “Didn’t they just announce this at Comic Con? How’d you get your hands on an actual script?”
A single, humorless laugh escaped me. “How do you think?”
Sofia rubbed her chin as she considered my question. Finally, her eyes lit up. “Wait—is Violet auditioning?”
“Looks like it.”
“But I thought she was taking a break from acting to focus on her music career?”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” I replied, picking a pink sequin out of the carpet.
“My dad swore we’d spend time together after all the promotional work for IN wrapped up, but I guess that was just another empty promise.
If Violet takes a new role, he’ll be too busy to hang out with me.
My mom lives on the other side of the country, and I talk to her more often than him. It’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, Indie,” Sofia said, her face falling as she tossed the script aside. She sat beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”