Chapter 1
I never thought it would come to this. I should be studying for my exams, but instead, I’m writing a book about my stepbrother.
It all started the day he moved in—nine years ago, when we were just kids.
I remember the feeling: jitters and pure excitement. Finally, I was going to have a brother.
‘Nina, would you get the door? I’m still cooking dinner!’ Mum shouted from the kitchen.
I sprinted down the stairs, my heart thudding. I stopped at the front door, peeked through the peephole—just to be sure—and then flung it open with the biggest grin on my face.
There they were. My stepdad Dan and his son Aidan.
Except… it wasn’t what I expected. Aidan didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at me.
‘Hiii Mia! How are you?’ Dan’s voice boomed with cheer. He noticed me staring at Aidan and nudged him.
‘Aidan, say hi to your sister!’
Aidan finally glanced at me. ‘Hey,’ he muttered, then went back to scanning the hallway like a detective casing the scene.
Aidan finally glanced at me. ‘Hey,’ he muttered.
I blurted, way too loud, ‘Do you like Pokémon?’
He blinked. ‘What?’
Dan chuckled as he squeezed past with the bags. ‘Told you she’d interview you first thing.’
My cheeks burned, but Aidan’s mouth twitched like he almost—almost—smiled.
Dan carried in a couple of bags. Aidan rushed to help. Together, they hauled in just five—way fewer than I’d imagined for people moving in.
Dan laughed at my face. “Most of our stuff’s in storage,” he said.
Mum appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. She hugged Dan, then bent to ruffle Aidan’s hair.
‘Long time no see! You’ve grown so much—it’s hard to believe you’re only nine!’
Aidan ducked into her hug, stiff but polite.
My stomach growled. Garlic bread and creamy carbonara drifted out from the kitchen. Mum’s cooking could make a person weak at the knees.
We sat at the round table: Aidan on my right, Dan on my left. Mum brought out steaming plates of pasta, then dashed back for the bread.
I spotted the golden garlic bread basket and immediately snagged the biggest piece. Aidan’s eyes tracked it like a hawk.
‘What?’ I said, mouth full.
‘Nothing,’ he muttered, but when Mum came back, he innocently asked, ‘Could you pass me the bread? Before Mia eats it all?’
‘Hey!’ I shoved the basket at him, and mum laughed so hard she nearly choked.
Even then, I wanted him to like me. But it was just the kind of wanting you have when you’re nine — the kind that means “please don’t think I’m weird” and “maybe we’ll be friends.” Nothing more, nothing I understood. Just the beginning.
While he bonded with Mum, I studied him. Tan skin, black hair, piercing blue eyes. Handsome, annoyingly so. I wanted him to like me. But sitting there, I realised… maybe we had nothing in common at all.
