I was up just before sunrise and had clothes and supplies laid out for both my siblings before my hungover father could even roll over in bed and cover the floor and himself in vomit.

Dahlia was easy to wake up; the moment I promised to stop for cake pops on the way to school she was across the hall and in the shower without any trouble. It was slipping back into my bedroom where my brother slept on my bed, his body curled into a tight fetal position, one of my fluffy pink throw pillows over his head and my purple comforter disheveled at his feet, that proved to be a task.

"Dylan." I gently shook his legs, but he didn't budge. "Dyl, come on. Get up."

It wasn't until I yanked the pillow from beneath him and tossed it on the other side of the bed that he rolled over and squinted up at me. "What do you want, Des?"

"School." I said, resting my hands on my hips. "Get up. I still need to change and get ready."

"I'm not going." He grumbled, rolling on to his stomach. I reached out and poked at his side until he turned his head back in my direction. "Can you not?"

I stalked across the room and grabbed the clothes I'd washed last night and threw them at him. "Get dressed, Dylan. This isn't up for discussion."

Though he didn't get off the bed and head for the bathroom, he did sit upright and glare across the room at me.

"You're not my mother."

"No, but I'm the only adult in this house that cares about you." I snapped, then pointed to the open door. "Now go get ready so I can have us all out of here before Dad wakes up."

That seemed to get under his skin, and he finally threw his long legs over the side of my bed and drug himself out of the room, muttering about my nagging under his breath I waited until I heard the door close at the end of the hall to walk over and grab one of the dozens of long sleeve black shirts in my closet. Just as I was about to tear it from a hanger, my eyes fell on a shirt on the other side of the closet-a birthday gift from Aunt Kara I'd stuffed in the back a couple years ago. A pretty burgundy shirt with sleeves that stopped at the forearms. It was something I surely could have worn as it covered the major bruises along my torso and upper arms, but it was the cleavage that had me always brushing right over it. I knew I had the breasts for it, I just wasn't sure if I was confident or comfortable enough to broadcast it to the entire school.

I nearly left the tags on the shirt and moved on to the next when the image of Shay eying me down as she stuck her tongue down Sam's throat surfaced and I yanked it so hard that the cheap hanger snapped. I had changed into the shirt and a pair of leggings and run a brush through my hair by the time my brother trudged back in through the open door.

"You know, you seriously. . . what the hell are you wearing?"

My brother dropped his pajamas on to the end of my bed and shook his head as he eyed me in disapproval.

"A shirt." I whispered.

He snorted. "What happened while I was gone? Did you finally confess your feelings to Sam?"

I shifted uncomfortably at the comment. "No."

"Look, Des. I'm not going to tell you what you should or shouldn't wear, but if you're not looking for male attention, I recommend wearing your usual."

I contemplated it for half a minute, but we were interrupted by Dahlia poking her head in from the hallway, her dark blonde hair still damp from her shower, green eyes shooting between Dylan and me. "Are you guys coming or what?"

Dylan grabbed his backpack from my computer chai, swung it over one shoulder, and headed for our little sister. He scooped her up with a grin and carried her with one arm out to my car. I followed close behind, grasping the strap of my backpack tightly in my hand as I slowed to a stop outside my father's bedroom. I could hear his snoring through the door, and though my nurturing instinct insisted I open the door and turn him on his side to prevent him from choking on his own vomit, my fingertips only brushed along the doorknob before I dropped my hand limply to my side and headed for the open front door and my siblings.

**

My brother hadn't been wrong about the male attention. Boys I'd sat behind for the last three years stopped and glanced in my direction and a few of the girls that constantly followed behind Shay like little puppy dogs eyed me anytime they passed me in the hallway between periods. I guess I would have been fine with the stares if that's all they were, but with the curious, lingering eyes was also the horrified stares that were shot at my little brother from every direction anytime I caught him outside of class. Once I finally stepped foot in the cafeteria at lunch, I had hope I'd spot him in the crowd, but it wasn't until I'd scanned the perimeter of the place and finally peeked outside into the courtyard that I spotted him sitting on top of a table with Chance hanging halfway off the bench at his feet.

I pushed out the door and immediately felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders the moment all the loud chatter faded behind the closed door. My brother looked up at the sound of the door shutting and jerked his chin in my direction in greeting.

Chance, having been in Europe all summer with his family, jumped to his feet and rushed me the second his eyes drifted in my direction. He swept me clean off my feet and clutched me to his chest with a breathless laugh.

I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I tangled my arms around his waist. "Hey, Chance."

"Look at you." he said, taking a step back, but in the moment, I think he finally got a good look at what I was wearing, and he tilted his head to the left with a curious expression and repeated the same thing in a different tone. "Look at you, Des."

He said it as if he hadn't changed over the summer too. His rich dark skin glistened in the light, revealing a tattoo on his arm that surely hadn't been there in May. He also appeared to have grown another inch or two-or maybe I'd just shrunk into myself the last three months.

I caught my brother wiggling his thin eyebrows suggestively over Chance's shoulder when I glanced up again, but my best friend spoke before I could walk over and scold him.

"You look, uh, different?"

I didn't look different, not really. But outside of the time he'd walked in on me changing, he'd never seen what I kept hidden under long sleeves and hoodies year-round.

Wanting to clear the awkward tension hanging in the air, I reached out and ran my head over the peach fuzz on his head. "You're just so used to those beautiful British babes that you completely forgot what I looked like."

He relaxed a little and dropped an arm over my shoulder. "You're right, you're right. I missed you though, Des, seriously."

"I missed you too."

More than he'd ever realize.

During the school year, some nights I was able to get Mrs. Hill to watch Dally, and have Dylan to crash with a friend so I could spend the night with Chance. It was a nice break, away from Dad; not having to sit at the edge of my bed all night not knowing what to expect.

"Yo, Chance, man!" a familiar voice shouted behind me. "I didn't know you were back, bro!"

I immediately grew rigid against Chance's side as Sam jogged over and slapped a hand against his back, grinning. My best friend returned the smile and almost unconsciously tightened his arm around my shoulder, pressing me further into him. Whether it was because he knew what Sam's presence was doing to me or something he wasn't consciously aware of, I wasn't sure.

That little moment had Sam's eyes dropping from Chance standing over me, blue eyes still glistening with amusement, to me against his side.

"Hey, Destiny." he whispered, his smile faltering slightly. He didn't bother to hide that he was checking me out and once he'd finished, he added, "Well, I guess you really took my words to heart, huh?"

It was lighthearted and joking, but it still made me shift back and forth on my feet as I bowed my head.

Sam was finally noticing me-not as the quiet, reclusive Destiny Mathers, but as a girl, an equal to Shay.

"You guys a thing?" Sam redirected the subject back to Chance, making a gesture between the two of us.

I said "No." at the same time Chance mumbled, "Why?"

My head whipped up and I stared at him, and I felt my heart plumet into my stomach. Because I didn't want to imagine thirteen years of friendship down the drain seeing the look on his face and in his eyes. The tense shoulders, tightening of his jaw, the cautious analyzation of every word that left Sam.

"Just wondering, man. I know you've been single for a couple years now, thought maybe you two were trying something out. No need to get so defensive."

"As I recall, you weren't curious until her tits were in your face."

Dylan caught my eye in my peripheral and though it felt like a fight was about to break out between the two boys on either side of me, he was smirking. I quickly stepped between both boys and touched a hand to Chance's chest as I was too afraid of how my body would react if I did the same to Sam's.

"Calm down." I said with a warning look. "Everything's fine. Sam's just asking a question. You're overreacting.'"

Chance opened his mouth then quickly shut it, before he returned to my brother on the table, avoiding looking at me.

Taking that as his cue to vacate the area, Sam severed the tension with a smile and lifted his hand in a halfway and turned his back to the lot of us. Once he'd made himself scarce, I walked over and glared down at Chance.

"What the hell was that?"

He shrugged a shoulder carelessly, "You know nothing about guys, Des."

"He's right." my brother shifted uncomfortably on top of the table, his eyes flickering from something over my shoulder to me, "His comment was also correct. Sam never bothered to even glance in your direction unless asked until today."

I felt ganged up on but decided against continuing to fight the two of them and sunk on to the seat beside Chance, resting my head against my brother's leg. "I'm glad you're back. Both of you."

More than either of them could ever imagine.

*

Chance waited until the last bell to pull me aside just outside the building and ask what I knew had been circling his thoughts since he'd laid eyes on me this morning. "What's going on with you? Did. . . your dad. . ."

He trailed off, but there was no need for him to try and elaborate. I lifted my bowed head and met his warm brown eyes, shoulders falling forward, but I didn't verbalize a response. Chance, already used to my silent responses, gently wrapped his hand around my wrist. "How bad, Des? Dahlia?"

I flinched hearing his mention of my little sister in relation to my father's abuse. I'd tried my hardest to take the brunt of it all, physical, verbal, and emotional for the last six years. But the older Dylan got, the more he understood and started to take the blows for the two of us girls. Unfortunately for my sister and me, the moment my father caught word of what'd happened with Dylan, he'd rushed home and taken out all his aggression and embarrassment on us. Refusing to allow even a finger to touch my seven-year-old sister, all pain was inflicted on me. So bad that I spent a week out of school-which my father had excused as being needed for my mental health over what'd happened to Dylan, not the black eyes and nearly broken nose.

"He hasn't touched her." I managed to whisper, scanning our surroundings, then returning my eyes to him. "I. . . I won't let him. He can do whatever he wants to me, but she. . . she still has a chance."

"So do you." Chance snapped through his teeth, cheeks starting to redden. "You can't stay there, Des. Any of you. You need to get out."

I touched my palm flat against my chest. "I turn eighteen in a couple months. I can file for emergency custody and—"

"What if you don't have two months?" Chance demanded. "What if he blacks out and you. . . you. . ."

He fell back a step, running a hand over his head. "Please, Des. If not for you, then for Dally and Dylan. You have to leave."

"It's not that easy." I whispered.

We'd had this conversation since the very second my father had first laid hands on me and I'd run to Chance a broken, inconsolable mess. Five years and we were still standing here fighting the same fight, him chasing his own tail trying to get through to me.

"It is. You pack your guys' shit and you get out as fast as you can." his eyes shot over my shoulder and after a moment he dropped my hand and shook his head. "Please, Des. I've got you, always. If you decide to do as I said tonight, call me. I love you."

Then he was across the parking lot and out of sight before I could try and protest what he said further.

I secured my own grip around mybackpack strap and waited until my brother had found me outside before weheaded for my car in the emptying lot, trying my hardest to hold it togetherfor Dylan's sake.