Toby stands behind her wearing a Batman mask. ‘Who’s dat?’
Moxie screams.
She hurls the ice cream tub at Sam. The lid pops. The air fills with a soaring, shimmering rainbow arc.
Sam gives a muted cry—
and then two litres of glitter hits him straight in the face.
It explodes over him, light as dust, and sticks like a second skin. It’s in his mouth, up his nose, plastered on his eyelashes.
Moxie keeps screaming.
Toby joins in.
Sam stands for just a heartbeat longer, glitter settling in pools around his feet – and then he runs.
He shoves past Moxie, vaults over Toby and flings himself down the stairs, shedding glitter in his wake. He jumps the veranda steps and his shoes hit cement.
Faster. Faster. Get out of here and don’t ever look back.
He keeps going until his new scabs split and his aching bones remind him he got hit by a car three days ago. He staggers to a stop, clutching the stitch in his side. Asking himself why why why did he do this?
He didn’t want it to end like this.
He tries to wipe glitter off his tongue, but ends up getting more stuck to his teeth. It rakes his throat.
Get away from here.
He listens for sirens. For someone to shout stop that thief. For a De Lainey brother to burst out of nowhere and lay into Sam until he’s no more than a smear on the footpath.
But the streets stay still, except for a faintly clicking sprinkler and a yappy dog.
Walk, Sammy, just keep walking.
Where?
Anywhere but here.
Sam is all scraped elbows and cheeks stained with glitter as he walks into the seedy part of town where Avery’s friends live. He doesn’t want to be here. But considering he looks like a craft store threw up on him, he’s low on options.
There are simple rules for surviving a lifestyle like his. Number one: don’t get caught.
And he freaking blew that.
The apartments are all identical bricks, endless rows broken by rotting dumpsters and cars cranking out bad exhaust on mucky lanes. He smells pot and wet cardboard and there are smashed beer bottles everywhere.
It makes him angry, all over again.
Because this is exactly the sort of neighbourhood Sam and Avery grew up in, living stuffed in caravans or units or cars, forgotten between their parents’ vodka bottles and mysterious bags to deliver. Aunt Karen’s street wasn’t much better. And Avery’s just trotted right back in.
Because it’s familiar.
Because it’s home.
Yeah OK, the Lou brothers are still criminals. They steal. They lie. But Sam wildly, passionately hates the thought of this being their Forever. Ever since they were little, he’s talked about living in their own house. A home. Endless conversations. Endless plans as they walked to and from school. Their own home would mean no adults with hard slaps, no one judging Avery’s tics, no one walking out on them again. All they need is money, right? Every dollar from Sam’s thieving and Avery’s job is squirrelled and saved for this.
It’s not impossible. No matter what Avery says, Sam refuses to believe it’s impossible.
He stops outside a row of apartments. Paint peels. Windows are barred. Piles of junk sit in gutters. Is this even the right number? He’s torn between hoping Avery is here, and wanting him to be at work. Just so long as whoever opens the door doesn’t take one look and call the cops.
Does he know anyone who doesn’t want him in jail? He needs new friends.
Or any friends.
A friend.
A non-judgemental dog maybe.
‘What is my life?’ he mutters and knocks.
A thump sounds on the other side, followed by, ‘Go to hell.’
Sam pounds his fist on the door again. ‘Is Avery Lou there? I’m his brother.’
Silence.
Sam kicks the door. A car crawls past and he glances at hard faces staring at his shimmering back. In this street of broken glass and rusted pipes, he is a prism of colour.
Footsteps thump and the door cracks open to show a sliver of Avery. His eyes are soft with sleep, hair mussed, and he’s shirtless with every rib on his concave chest showing. Great. Sam can go right back to feeling guilty that he hasn’t made sure Avery’s been eating.
‘Wow, it is you,’ Avery says. ‘I thought you hated this place.’ He pauses. ‘And me.’
Sam grits his teeth. ‘You know that’s not true. Now can I come in? I’m about to be arrested.’
Avery opens the door. ‘I guess that’s usual. But I—’ He breaks off with a choke.
Sam shoves past, leaving glittering footprints. Honestly, it wouldn’t be that hard to catch him. Screw the yellow brick road – just follow the sparkling glitter path to Sammy Lou. And he’s pretty shy, but God help him, he is two minutes away from ripping off his clothes.
Avery opens his mouth. Closes it.
Sam rakes a hand through his hair and feels glitter stick to his scalp. ‘I need a shower.’
‘You need a pressure hose,’ Avery says. ‘What … how?’
‘I screwed up stealing a house, OK?’ Sam folds his arms. ‘Just lend me some clothes and—’
Avery bursts out laughing.
It’s his real laugh, all light and giddy, and it shakes his whole body.
Usually Sam loves that laugh, but today he kind of wants to murder someone. He itches. ‘Super mature, Avery.’
Avery clutches his stomach and slams the front door. He sags against it, hand over his eyes while he laughs and laughs and laughs.
Sam waits.
‘I just can’t even look at you.’ Avery presses his knuckles into his eyes. ‘It’s too much. It’s too funny.’
‘Would you shut up and listen?’ Sam snaps.
Avery makes a show of holding his breath. He nods.
Sam starts, ‘So I was stealing a house—’
Avery cracks up again.
Sam is done. He’s just done. He’s ruined the one good, one pure thing he had with the De Laineys. He’s got literally nothing on his back except for stolen clothes and seven tonnes of glitter. And his brother is a jerk.
‘Screw you, Avery,’ Sam says. ‘I’m really uncomfortable.’
‘Is it on your teeth?’ Avery swipes a hand over the back of his eyes, his shoulders still shaking with suppressed hysterics. He looks so much younger when he’s laughing. ‘Well, you’re officially the prettiest Lou.’ Avery sets himself off again.