a

shown around by Mr. Twain, one of our dad's trusted solicitors. Janus always seemed in a hurry

funeral, with anger and sorrow on his face. I had given him a small smile of encouragement, but he chose to steer clear of all of us. On that same day, he bro

cal son had created quite a ruckus at home. Ev

lling him that when he never got to hear the word from my lips when he was still aliv

d to suggest he was relaxed, right leg over the other, but I knew he was anything but. He felt superior over the rest of us, being the son of one of Mr. Sangster's second cousins. It was easy to figure

t the four of us had in comm

me one he wore to the funeral," Emilie said right before she popped her gum. So, she sounded

felt comfortable with us. She was with her family. Rumors persisted she was the love child of a famous celebrity whom Mr. Sangster adored. I wondered if the word "adored" was a euphemism for something else. Still, Hannah said it

don't pay attention, do you? Anyway, we're adopted while he's the bio son, and you two

s in my wheelchair because I did not like the feeling of having to ask any of them to help me to and from it. I was also there to merely listen as

is right. He's obviously blood-related to da

re. We were also here for years, blood-related or not. We were even

ghts by saying that Em was n

wilderment and the pain. Janus Malcolm. Janus Sangster. The name he was born with seemed to fit better, yet he looked ever

said that. I could almost hear her though

asked gleefully. My brother stood up and did a graceful turn, e

e like a rock star, with his spiky black hai