Chapter 1

2003

The sun shone past the damaged blinds that barely covered his windows, hitting Eddie right in the face with a ray of sunlight, waking him up. His room was no bigger than a shoe closet, and when he stretched, his fists and toes were already pushing the walls. He felt the urge to yawn loudly, but he could hear his dad's snoring right next to the thin dry wall and simply got out of bed as quiet as he could. He winced at the pain on his back from the thrashing his dad gave him a night before after he couldn't fix the leaky faucet in the kitchen.

Grabbing the nearest shirt he could find, Eddie looked at the mirror, hopelessly trying to flatten his jet black hair and scratching away the dirt near his blue eyes. At twenty, Eddie looked hopelessly older—whether or not it was because of the stress of living with his father he couldn't be too sure. Sighing, he headed out of his room, looking at the clock that pointed ten minutes to eight.

Not wasting any time, he darted down the stairs to the house's small kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out four eggs and a pack of defrosted bacon, and then systematically reaching overhead for a pan, setting it on top of the stove. He pulled out a tray, placing a plate over it. On the fridge door was a list he had to follow, but after doing this for years, Eddie didn't need to look over it anymore and opened his mother's medicine box, taking out a blue and red capsule, as well as an orange tablet, placing it on the rim of the plate.

He placed four slices of toast into the over toaster before he began frying the bacon, and then placed them all on a platter when they popped out, adding two more for himself. By the time the bacon and eggs were cooked, he placed two slices of toast, an egg, and several strips of bacon on the tray, careful not to let the heat touch the medicine. He got out some utensils and threw them on the tray when he saw he only had two minutes. He fixed the rest of the food onto the dining table, setting one plate on the table, before carrying the tray upstairs to the room across his, not bothering to knock.

"Mother, breakfast," Eddie couldn't remember the last time she had spoken to him, but she heard him groan, which was good enough for him. He looked at his frail, sick mother, wishing he knew what it was she was suffering from, but he didn't think a degree in nursing would make him qualified to diagnose whatever it was. She could still move, but apart from that, she did not have enough energy to get out of bed or talk, and reserved that energy for going to the bathroom and weakly switching channels on the TV. He set her breakfast on a revolving table, and walked out.

Outside his mother's room, he heard a clanking of plates.

He tried not to seem scared as he passed the dining room, avoiding his father's gaze. His father was the only one working a nine-to-five job, and was always having breakfast by eight so he could leave by eight-fifteen. By the time Eddie returned, his father was finishing up his plate.

"You gave your mom yet?" He grunted as he sliced up a piece of bacon. Eddie nodded and continued into the kitchen, not daring to go back out. Only when he heard the chair screech did he walk hurriedly past his father and out the door, not daring to keep his father waiting.

Eddie practically sprinted outside to the gate, not noticing the moving truck across their house. He unbolted the fence gate, clearing the driveway for his father's car. After a few seconds, his father came out, briefcase in hand, and hurriedly unlocked his car and threw his briefcase at the passenger's seat.

"Eddie," His father beckoned him, and Eddie was quick to approach. He added in a menacing whisper, "That sink better be fixed by the time I get back."

Eddie gulped, and meekly nodded as his father subtly placed a hand on Eddie's pants, looking around as he brought it down slightly. He knew his father was careful not to let anyone know—except for his friends that did know and did enjoy taking turns on him—but he saw the moving truck moving, unblocking the view of the new family, and withdrew his hand.

"See you later, son." His father sneered as he entered the car, started it, and drove away.

As if for the first time, Eddie looked across his house to the new family. Apart from the three men in uniform unloading the truck, there was a family of three unloading smaller boxes from their SUV. A middle-aged woman carried probably the smallest box to the porch, dropped it by the side of the door, and began ordering around the three men in uniform. The middle-aged man—most likely her husband—unloaded the boxes from the car onto the lawn, grabbing the attention of one uniformed man, and Eddie heard him requesting the man to pick it up later. But when Eddie looked at the third member, he instantly felt smitten by the girl.

She was pretty, but the way she smiled excitedly at her new home was what made Eddie riveted by this girl. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. He wasn't sure whether or not he was supposed to be attracted or jealous of this girl's happiness. As he closed the gate, not taking his eyes of the girl as she unhooked a bicycle off the bike rack and brought it in the garage, he heard a honk coming from their house, and he turned to see the father's hand on the horn.

"Hello there, neighbor!" The man waved him over. Eddie glanced at his house and then bolted the gate and proceeded to cross the street. The man left the side of his car to the fence of his house, extending an arm out to shake Eddie's hand before Eddie could even stop walking. "Charles Dalton."

"Good morning, Mr. Dalton," said Eddie. "I'm Eddie—Eddie Gluskin."

"And that's my wife, Tricia." Mr. Dalton pointed at the woman by the porch ordering the movers around. He peered at Eddie through his thick glasses. "How old are you, Eddie?"

"Twenty, sir."

"Twenty?" Mr. Dalton raised an eyebrow. "Well—good news, my daughter's eighteen and you look like a good, strapping young m—"

"DAD!" The girl appeared from behind the SUV, looking bewildered. She walked to the fence, talked hotly. "Honestly, we've been here for five minutes and—"

"Only joking, only joking dear," Mr. Dalton said calmly. "I'll go to your mother before she turns the movers into slave laborers." He turned to Eddie. "Good to meet you, dear boy."

And he walked to the porch, leaving Eddie with the girl in awkward silence.

"So…" Eddie tried to begin a conversation, but was too tounge-tied.

"Sorry about my dad," She said apologetically. "He's been on my case a lot about not having a boyfriend yet after eighteen years." She was looking at him now, smiling as she gazed into his blue eyes as he gazed into her brown eyes.

"He seems like a nice guy." Said Eddie, trying to make a conversation now. "I wouldn't take it too hard."

"I won't," She promised him. She turned to look at the boxes still at the truck. "I guess I better help them with my things. It was nice meeting a new face here."

"I better get back too, my mom might wonder where I went." Eddie lied shyly, sticking out his hand. "Welcome to the neighborhood—I'm Eddie Gluskin."

The girl's heart-shaped face lit up, smiling warmly, and Eddie couldn't help but feel more head-over-heels for this girl. She took his hand and shook it, her skin smooth as silk. "Mara Dalton. Nice to meet you, Eddie."