Rhythm is a Heartbeat

Prologue

Shannon

My nanny, Valerie, left over four hours ago.

She’d been in a panic because her son had gotten into a bike accident and had to be rushed to the hospital. Unable to contact my parents, which was typical when they were working, she’d instructed me to stay in the house until either she returned or my parents did.

It was starting to get dark, and the house felt too big and silent, so I’d decided to go outside to sit on the front step and watch for my parents’ cars coming up the drive.

We’d only moved in three weeks ago, and this was the biggest house they’d ever bought.

So big it echoed when I walked through it.

We’d lived in lots of nice places over the years: a penthouse in Hong Kong, a townhouse in Copenhagen, a fancy apartment in London near Buckingham Palace.

Everyone always said how lucky I was, how exciting it must be.

But the truth was, I’d trade every single one of those places if it meant we could stay put. If it meant I could actually see Mam and Dad for more than a rushed breakfast or a goodnight kiss when they got home late.

They said this place would be our last, our forever home, but I didn’t let myself believe them. I’d had my hopes dashed one too many times, packing up my life the second they got a new opportunity, leaving behind friends just when things started to feel normal.

I stared down the long driveway as dusk closed in, wishing this time that “forever” might actually mean something.

A few minutes later, the sound of a vehicle approached, followed by bright headlights, and my spirits lifted.

Then I saw it was only a car pulling into our neighbour’s driveway.

I hadn’t met them yet, but I was curious to know if there were any kids living there who were my age.

It was August, so no new school for a few more weeks, nor any chance to make new friends.

Spending my days with Valerie while my parents worked was kind of lonely.

I watched as a tall man with brown hair emerged from the car.

He looked around my father’s age, but that was where the similarities ended.

This man wore a dark jacket and jeans and had tattoos crawling up his neck and across his knuckles.

He carried a stack of pizza boxes and looked like the kind of person my parents might represent on trial for a serious crime—if they didn’t work exclusively for rich families who hired them to protect their wealth and assets, that was.

At least, that’s what Mam said. I always suspected their jobs were a lot more complicated than that.

I didn’t realise he’d noticed me until he called over, “You the new kid?”

I was momentarily surprised that he was addressing me since I was so used to being ignored by the adults in my life. He had an American accent, and his warm expression somehow put me at ease. This man was no bad guy, even if his tattoos sort of made him look like one.

I nodded eagerly in response, happy that someone was acknowledging my existence after I’d been left home alone for hours. He tossed his car keys in the air before easily catching them, still holding the pizza boxes. I was impressed by his multi-tasking. “What are you, like, ten?” he went on.

I sat up a little bit straighter. “I’m twelve.”

“Oh, shit, twelve?” he replied, sounding impressed. I giggled that he had no qualms swearing in front of me. “Well, that’s just perfect. My son is twelve. You should come meet him. I bet you two will hit it off. Besides,” he went on, “we’re going to need some help eating all this pizza.”

My stomach gurgled at the mention of food.

I’d never actually eaten pizza before, mainly because Mam was strict about my diet, though I’d seen people eat it on TV.

Without a second thought, I stood from the step and walked around the bushes between the two houses.

“You live here?” I asked when I reached him.

“For the last ten years,” he responded before opening the door. “I’m Jay, by the way. Jay Fields.”

“Shannon Guerin.”

“Nice to meet you, Shannon,” he smiled kindly, then called into the house, “Pizza’s here, and I’ve brought a guest.”

A second later, a little girl appeared at the top of the stairs. She was much younger than me, maybe five or six. She had long brown hair the same shade as Jay’s, so he was obviously her dad. She ran to him and hugged his side before turning her attention to me.

“Hello, I’m Francesca. What’s your name?”

“I’m Shannon. Pleased to meet you, Francesca.”

The little girl grinned. “You sound funny.”

A flush broke out over my skin. “I know. My accent is odd. I’ve lived in a lot of different places.”

“Like where?” came another voice, and I turned to see a boy my own age standing at the other end of the hallway.

When had he gotten there? He looked like a miniature version of Jay, the same hair and eyes, even the same facial features.

It was uncanny. The only difference was the dad had a normal haircut, whereas the boy’s hair was styled into a Mohawk, with the middle section dyed electric blue.

It was the coolest thing I’d even seen. My parents would barely let me choose my own outfits, never mind let me dye my hair such an outlandish colour.

I fidgeted with the hem of my cardigan, then answered, “I was born in Hong Kong.”

The boy came closer until he was standing right in front of me. “Really? You don’t look Asian.” He tilted his head to the side, surveying me like he was trying to solve a maths problem.

His dad groaned behind him. “Jace, my guy, we talked about this. You can’t tell where someone’s from just by how they look.”

The boy glanced at me with an apologetic wince. “Sorry.”

“I promise he was raised better than that.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. My parents are Irish, but they lived in Hong Kong for work.”’

Jay nodded. “Very cool. This is my son, Jason Junior, but he prefers to go by Jace. Jace, this is Shannon, our new next door neighbour. Now, let’s eat this pizza before we all starve to death.”

The little girl ran ahead while I walked with Jay and Jace down the hallway and into a large kitchen where a dark-haired woman was setting the table.

Jay put the pizza boxes down and went up to her, placing his large hand on her hip before bending down and pressing a kiss to her neck.

She laughed affectionately and shoved him off.

Just from the momentary interaction, I could tell they really loved each other.

I’d never seen my parents be that way with one another, so easy and tender.

Jay said something to her, then gestured to me, and she turned to take me in.

She had the loveliest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

They were full of kindness as she came and introduced herself.

“My husband tells me your name is Shannon and that you’ve just moved in next door. I’m Matilda, and we’re delighted to have you join us for dinner.”

“Thank you for having me, Miss Matilda,” I replied, dipping my head to her.

“Aren’t you just so sweet and polite,” she exclaimed. “But there’s no need for the Miss. Matilda will do.”

I nodded, a little embarrassed. Good manners had been drilled into me from the etiquette lessons I’d attended from ages seven to ten. It was second nature now.

“Shannon’s sitting next to me,” Jace announced as he pulled out a chair at the table and gestured for me to sit.

I lowered into it, feeling a strange fluttering in my chest that he wanted me next to him.

I studied him while Jay and Matilda opened the pizza boxes and began sharing out the slices.

The scent of melted cheese and fresh dough hit my nose, and my mouth watered.

I’d barely eaten anything all day because I couldn’t stop worrying about Valerie’s son and praying he was okay.

I’d only known my new nanny a short while, but she was kind to me, and having had a number of nannies over the years, that wasn’t always the case.

“I like your hair. Are you allowed to have it that colour at school?” I asked.

Jace shook his head. “No. Mam says I have to shave it off before September. I’m only allowed to have it for the summer.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah,” he agreed glumly before he picked up the slice of pizza his mother had put in front of him.

I watched in fascination as he folded it in half and shoved it in his mouth.

I’d never, not once in my life, been permitted to eat food with my hands.

Every meal was consumed with the appropriate utensils, alongside proper posture; otherwise, my mother would correct me.

“Yum! This is so good!” Francesca said as she ate the pizza just the same as her brother.

Even the parents, Jay and Matilda, were eating with their hands.

I stared down at the delicious smelling slice in front of me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to pick it up.

Too many years of hardwiring prevented me.

“Are you okay, Shannon?” Matilda asked. “Not hungry?”

I licked my lips, sitting ramrod straight in the chair, and my stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud gurgle. I winced in embarrassment.

“She’s definitely hungry,” Jace said with a laugh as he elbowed me in the side in an easy fashion, like we’d known each other all our lives. “Go on, dig in. It’s good, I promise.”

Finally, I said, “Would it be possible to get a knife and fork? I’m not usually allowed to—”

Something soft entered Matilda’s eyes as she shared a look with her husband. “Of course, dear. Let me go grab you some.”

“Thank you,” I practically whispered when she returned and handed me the cutlery. I cut a thin strip off the pizza and lifted it to my mouth. When I bit into it, I had to hold back a groan because it was seriously one of the best things I’d ever tasted. I closed my eyes just to savour it.

“You look you’ve never had pizza before,” Jace commented, and I realised he’d been watching me the whole time. In fact, the entire family was.

“That’s because I haven’t,” I replied, self-consciously tucking some hair behind my ear.

He stared at me, wide-eyed. Even the little girl, Francesca, seemed awe-struck. “You’ve never eaten pizza before?” she asked innocently.

I shook my head. “My parents are very strict. They don’t let me have any fast food.”

“B-but pizza is so yummy,” Francesca went on.

“It is,” I agreed. “My parents are clearly crazy.” I forced a smile, and she giggled.

Jay and Matilda were both looking at me, but I couldn’t quite tell what they thought of the fact that my parents forbade me from eating anything even remotely unhealthy.

I was on a strict diet of organic vegetables, whole grains, fish and clean meats and was permitted a slice of gluten free cake only on Sundays.

A quiet fell over the family, and I began to feel like I’d made them uncomfortable by being so weird and uptight, but then, to my surprise, Jace addressed his mother. “Mam, can I have a knife and fork, too?”

I peered at him, at his open, friendly expression, and realised he was being kind, trying to make me feel less like a freak. Matilda shot him a warm smile, “Of course, you can, son.”

She went to grab another set of cutlery before handing them to Jace. Without comment, he began cutting into his pizza just like I was doing, and something inside me melted. It was in that moment that I knew I’d found a friend.

“You know what?” Jace declared. “It actually tastes better this way. You should all try it.”

And that was how the entire family ended up grabbing knives and forks and eating their pizza just the same as I was.

I’d only just met these people, but they’d made me feel more accepted than my own parents had in my entire life.

They were good and kind and warm, everything I’d never had, and at that moment, I hoped more than ever that my parents didn’t decide to move again because I wanted this family as my neighbours.

Glancing at Jace, I realised something else.

I wanted this cool and interesting blue-haired boy to become my very best friend.