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she’d fished out of recycling bins. Olivia sold them as vases and people lined up to buy them. Samantha saw something unique and marketable in the young woman’s work and became her agent, providing Olivia with canvases and quickly selling several small pieces.
    Those early sales made it possible for Olivia to have the heat turned on in the bungalow and to buy necessities for the baby. For the next sixteen years Samantha had shepherded Olivia’s painting career, turning her into a sought-after artist whose work sold for a lot of money. Sam was also a big sister to Olivia and godmother to Evangeline; they both loved her fiercely.
    “So what’d you get?” Melia’s question snapped Evangeline back to reality. She unzipped her hoodie to show off the chain and key. Melia’s eyes widened. “No way! Your mom never takes that off.”
    “I know. But she said it’s a tradition in our family. Every daughter gets it when she turns sixteen.”
    Tristin looked up. “Why?”
    “She doesn’t know, but since we don’t have any relatives or other traditions it’s important,” Evangeline said, then felt idiotic for sounding so serious and added, “to her.”
    Tristin flicked a stone at a stunning gold and orange butterfly fluttering by and the insect dropped to the pavement by Evangeline’s sneaker, one wing torn. “Damn—I didn’t mean to hit it,” Tristin said, looking at the insect struggling on the concrete.
    Evangeline crouched by the butterfly, watching as it tried in vain to fly. Gently she picked it up and smoothed its delicate wing. Not that it would help any, but she needed to do something for the poor thing. Unconsciously, she found herself softly humming a snippet of a song she didn’t know the words to, and had never heard aloud, but that often floated through her mind. Suddenly the butterfly flew off.
    “Whoa,” Tristin muttered. “How’d you do that?”
    “Magic,” Melia said with a grin, leaning in to give Tristin a kiss that lasted longer than was comfortable for Evangeline.
    The bus arrived and they all got on. Raphe had saved Evangeline a seat. “Happy birthday!” He held up a frosted pink cupcake.
    Evangeline couldn’t help noticing that the morning light brought out the gold flecks in Raphe’s brown eyes. He smiled and the dimple in his left cheek winked at her.
He’s nice to everyone,
Evangeline reminded herself.
Don’t take it personally cause it doesn’t mean anything.
    “You look different today,” Raphe said.
    Evangeline shrugged. “Same old me.” But she saw a few of the boys on the bus looking at her and self-consciously tried to smooth her wild curls.
    “Quit it,” Raphe said, pulling her hand down. “It looks cool—like a lion’s mane.”
    Evangeline took a bite of the cupcake. The frosting came off on her nose and they both laughed.
    “What’re you gonna do for your birthday?” Raphe’s hand still rested on Evangeline’s wrist. She knew it was just a coincidence that he was still touching her, but regardless, she didn’t want to move.
    “Mom’s making lasagna and we’ll have carrot cake for dessert. Then we’re going to watch “Talladega Nights” for the fifth time.” Evangeline rolled her eyes because she knew she sounded pathetic. If she was cool, she’d be having a big party to celebrate her sixteenth; if she was even cooler, someone would’ve thrown a party for her at a house where the parents were out of town and there was a keg.
    “Can I come over?”
    “You don’t have to do that,” Evangeline said. “Not even Melia wants to come over.”
    “I’ve only seen that movie seven times. I hear the eighth is the best.”
    Raphe finally moved his fingers off her wrist and Evangeline felt…disappointed. “Um, yeah, okay. I guess.”
    On a whim, Evangeline untied her right sneaker, even though she was certain she was imagining things, and pulled out her foot. Her sock was soaking wet.

Chapter Five

    Malledy settled into a chair in the living room