Worth the Fall (The Malone Brothers #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

PHONY MALONEY

My tummy feels icky, and if I look at Emmy, she’ll know I’ve been crying. She’ll know I told after I promised her I wouldn’t.

We even pinky promised on it.

So, I focus on it instead.

The glue on my hand and how weird it feels. It’s crackly and tight and kind of cold. Kind of like what I imagine alien skin would feel like.

She’s gonna be mad at me.

Except their skin would be green. Or purple.

She made me promise not to tell.

Mine would be green. Emmy’s would be purple.

She’s my bestest friend in the whole wide galaxy.

Her and her yucky purple.

How could I not say anything?

Malone Family Rules: If someone is hurting, you help them.

My dad’s temper if I break a rule is much worse than Emmy’s, though.

I’m only trying to help her.

The speaker in the room’s ceiling crackles, and we all look up. The rest of the class is hoping for an interruption—an announcement for the winners of spirit day, a surprise assembly, anything—but I don’t glance up. All I can do is hold my breath and focus on my alien skin.

“Mrs. Gellar?” Principal Newman says through the intercom.

“Yes?”

“Can you please have Emerson Reeves gather her things and come to the front office please?”

“Sure.”

Ohhhhh . The whole class makes the collective sound, thinking Emmy’s in trouble.

“Called to the principal’s office,” Cooper says.

But I know the truth.

I dare to look now. To see the worried look on Mrs. Gellar’s face as she watches Emmy get her Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox and cram it into her yucky purple backpack. Emmy keeps her head down, but she misses the first time she tries to grab the zipper to close it.

Mrs. Gellar doesn’t speak. She doesn’t head to the whiteboard or ask us to pay attention like she normally does. Instead, she walks over to Emmy, puts her arm around her shoulders, and bends over to whisper something in her ear. Emmy nods but keeps looking down as Mrs. Gellar gives her a quick hug before standing back up.

When Emmy heads toward the door, I forget all about my alien skin and stare at her from my seat in the last row.

Look at me.

C’mon, Em. Look at me.

She stops right before she walks out the door and meets my eyes. There are tears in hers, kinda like how there are some in mine.

“You pinky promised,” she whispers, her knuckles turning white as she clutches her backpack to her chest.

“Em—”

“I hate you. I never want to see you again.” She mouths the words and walks out the door.