Chapter 1
Everything was happening all over again. The move, the new school, the new house. All because of my dear little brother, Matteo.
It seems he never learns since this is the second time we’ve moved cities because of him. He insists on the easy money scheme and ends up getting involved in trouble.
The thing is, now besides leaving our mother’s homeland, Chile, we can’t even go to our second home, Spain (on our father’s side), thanks to my little brother who managed to ruin us from afar. I don’t know why Dad still shelters Matteo since he’s already 27. Or rather, I do know — he’s the golden boy and he knows it since no one thought he’d survive birth.
My mother’s last words were, “Protect our little Matteo,” and I was the one being born at the time! My old man always says that a new beginning is a new life. For me, it’s the opposite — whenever I start somewhere new, I’m automatically excluded because of my different appearance. My pediatrician used to say I must be the only person in the world like this.
If you’re curious, I don’t think I’m that different. I have tanned skin, one blue eye and one green eye, freckles, straight red hair with a natural white streak, and a slim but curvy body. Every time I start somewhere new, they call me a witch or say I’m faking it.
This time we’re going to Sicily, Italy. I thought it was a terrible idea since my brother is a magnet for trouble and everyone knows that city is full of mafia, but once again I have no say in the matter, because according to my dad and brother, I’m responsible for my mother’s death. I packed my bags. I said goodbye to my best friend: Kátia, the mare. My only friends were animals — Cinderella vibes — and even then, they were few.
I heard my dad yelling outside, “If you don’t hurry up, you’re staying here abandoned, you pig.”
Yes, it was normal for my dad to call me names. I was like a slave to them, a tool without feelings. I quickly left the house and was about to put my bags in the trunk when my brother replied, “Why bring all that? We don’t have space. You only need a few clothes, the rest we’ll figure out.” “But this is full of your stuff, can’t you take some out? I need one suitcase for clothes, another for books, underwear, etc... Dad said I have to bring things to keep busy so I don’t look like an outcast,” I replied. But again, my brother exploded, “I need my PC, my books, my stuff! But if you can fit your things in 5 seconds, I’ll allow it,” he said with his malicious grin, and my dad just looked on, calling me a usurper.
As soon as I finished, we left for the airport. I was about to check in when my dad and brother asked me what I thought I was doing. I replied I was catching the plane, and with a malicious smile, they said my flight only left in 4 hours and my seat was right next to the bathroom. I was furious but controlled myself.
I’ve always had an explosive and ironic temper, but I quickly learned it’s better to accept it. That way, they don’t notice when I escape after doing my chores and have my lessons in dagger fighting, hand-to-hand combat, and martial arts.
