I quickly spilled the whole story. The encounter by the side door, the hesitation, the brief introduction, and how Luke had bolted into the shadows the second he heard my mother’s voice. Hazel gasped, slapping a hand to her forehead as the pieces clicked together.
“Wait a second,” she breathed. “Are you telling me you might have a twin brother living out on the streets?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, my head spinning. “I don’t know! My mom always swore I was an only child. But the whole thing is just too weird. I wanted to tell her, but I figured she’d just think I was making up stories.”
Hazel’s expression shifted from shocked to intensely determined. She planted her hands on her hips. “You need to find this boy again, Ashton. We have to figure out who he really is.”
I let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “But how? I don’t even know where he sleeps. I just know his name is Luke. My parents would never let me wander the city alone looking for a stranger.”
Hazel broke into a massive, mischievous grin. “Leave the logistics to me. Here is the plan. You ask your mom if you can spend the afternoon at my house to work on a school project.” She winked. “Then, we make up an excuse, and my personal driver will take us straight to that neighborhood. Theodore literally does everything I ask him to.”
A massive wave of hope washed over me. I looked at my best friend, realizing she was entirely serious. I held out my hand.
“Deal.”
I would only learn much later what my brother was enduring that very same morning. Miles across the city, Luke’s reality was a brutal, jarring contrast to my comfortable life. His stomach was a hollow, twisted knot, rumbling violently with hunger. He spent the early hours shivering in the damp morning air, desperately rummaging through heavy metal trash cans behind a row of closed restaurants. He flipped one lid open, then another, and another. They were all completely empty, or filled with spoiled, unusable scraps.
With a heavy, sorrowful sigh, Luke slumped down onto the freezing concrete sidewalk. He pulled his thin knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs to preserve whatever body heat he had left. His mind drifted back to the previous evening. He thought about the giant dumpsters behind the banquet hall, which were undoubtedly overflowing with untouched, expensive food that had been casually tossed out. And he thought about me.
“I should have grabbed something yesterday,” he muttered to himself, his voice laced with bitter regret.
He distinctly remembered the sharp, authoritative female voice that had sent him scurrying into the darkness. Ever since he was tiny, the streets had taught him a harsh lesson: fear adults. He knew perfectly well that, for kids like him, getting dragged into the city’s overflowing shelter system was a fate far worse than the alleyways. In a shelter, he would be stripped of his meager freedom, and he knew from painful, past experiences that the people there could be unimaginably cruel.
Luke paused, rubbing his dirt-streaked face, ruminating on our bizarre encounter. Then, a tiny spark of an idea flared in his exhausted mind. What if he went back to that exact street? Maybe there was still food left in those bins. And maybe, just maybe, he would see the boy with his face again. Hauling his small frame off the frozen pavement, Luke clenched his fists. He made a silent, desperate promise to himself to return to the Peach District. Something deep in his gut told him our meeting wasn’t just a random fluke. Something massive was shifting in the universe.
Back in my classroom, the wall clock had become my absolute worst enemy. Every single second felt like an agonizing eternity. I mentally counted down the excruciating minutes until noon, the exact moment I could finally burst out of those doors and launch the mission Hazel and I had pieced together. When the heavy hand finally clicked onto the twelve and the lunch bell shrieked through the halls, I shot a look at Hazel. We exchanged a quick, conspiratorial smirk.
We both leaped from our desks, practically sprinting toward the door. Just before crossing the threshold, I skidded to a halt by the teacher’s desk.
“I promise I’ll be much more attentive tomorrow, Professor,” I said, flashing my most convincing, awkward smile.
She just smiled warmly and gave me an understanding nod.
The second we hit the front gates, Hazel’s sharp eyes scanned the chaotic line of waiting vehicles. She quickly spotted Theodore’s sleek black town car and sprinted toward it.
“Wait right here, Theodore,” she ordered, entirely breathless. “Ashton is coming over to my house today. He just needs to clear it with his mom.”
Theodore, a sturdy man who was entirely used to Hazel’s whirlwind of demands, just chuckled and tipped his cap. Hazel spun around, ready to pull me into the car. But the plan hit a massive brick wall.
It wasn’t my mother pulling up to the curb. It was Afonso. And he wasn’t alone. He was accompanied by Michelle, the woman I was forced to call my aunt. The second I saw them, a dark cloud settled heavily over my mood. Something primal inside me recoiled every time I had to look at Afonso, and it was a thousand times worse when Michelle was hovering around.
Michelle plastered on a sickeningly sweet, entirely fake smile and swooped down, wrapping her arms around me in a suffocating hug. The overwhelming smell of her heavy perfume made me want to gag.
“My lovely, lovely nephew! I’ve missed you so much,” she cooed in a sugary voice that made my skin crawl. “I came to pick you up from school today. Aren’t you happy?”
I stood absolutely rigid, my arms glued to my sides, refusing to return the embrace.
Afonso, on the other hand, didn’t bother with the fake pleasantries. He was direct, cold, and visibly impatient. “Get in the car, Ashton. I’m in a hurry,” he barked, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I took a deep breath, fighting the tremble in my hands, and stood my ground. “I’m not going,” I stated, staring my father right in the eyes with a courage I didn’t know I possessed.
Afonso’s jaw clenched tight. He crossed his arms, his voice rising in volume. “What exactly do you mean, you’re not going? Your mother is locked in an important board meeting, and I took time to come pick you up. Move. Get in the car right now.”
Seeing that my defiance was about to blow our entire operation to pieces, Hazel smoothly slid between us.
“It’s not like that, Mr. Afonso,” she chirped, flashing a flawless, polite smile. “Ashton just meant that he’s having lunch at my house today. We have a massive history project we have to finish together.”
I jumped on the excuse immediately. “That’s right, Dad. The project is due tomorrow.”
Afonso glared at Hazel with undisguised disdain, clearly not buying a single word. He shifted his cold gaze back to me. “I don’t know about this. Your mother explicitly asked me to take you straight home.” He paused, looking me up and down with intense disapproval. “And frankly, I don’t like this constant friendship you have with that girl. You should be making friends with boys. Play football. Do normal boy things. You’re always locked up at her house.”
I dropped my gaze to the pavement, my face burning with embarrassment. Before Afonso could drag me into the passenger seat, Michelle placed a manicured hand lightly on his shoulder.
“Oh, stop being so dreadfully rough, Afonso,” she laughed, her tone light but incredibly calculated. “Let the boy go. What’s the harm? Besides, if they’re working on a school project, it’s much better to let him go. You know Penelope values Ashton’s academic record more than anything else in the world.”
Afonso let out a heavy, defeated huff. “Fine,” he grumbled reluctantly. “What time do I need to come back and pick you up?”
