Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
My name is Ana Miller and at this very moment, I’m trying to block out my friends by staring and poking at my salad with a fork. Normally I love talking with my friends at lunchtime, but today it’s just making me depressed.

“And our resort has its own private beach,” Jessica brags, practically jumping up and down in her seat. “So we can just walk out of the hotel and right onto the sand. And the temperature there right now is eighty degrees! Isn’t that awesome? I am so tired of the cold,” she says.

“And the snow,” Emily adds, glancing toward the nearby window. Mounds of winter snow are piled up in the middle school parking lot and along the walkway. Icicles drip from the bare tree branches and snowflake flurries swirl around in the freezing wind.

“It’s Chicago. It’s supposed to be cold in winter,” I point out, repeating something my dad says often. It never actually makes me feel better about the weather, though. I love the summer, when it isn’t necessary to bundle up every day. The summer sun just makes everything feel happier.

“Well, I love the snow,” Ava says. With her jet-black hair and blue eyes, Ava always looks like a snow princess from a fairy tale. “I can’t believe we’re finally going skiing in Colorado! It’s going to be awesome.”

Emily frowns. “We’re not going far at all. Mom’s taking us to Mammoth Lodge. It’s kind of lame, but at least they have an indoor pool.”

Jessica turns to her attention to me. “So, are you guys doing anything?”

Ugh. I sigh. “You know we never do. My dad says this year I can help out in his office and make some extra money.”

“That’s pretty lame too,” Ava remarks, and Jessica shoots her a look as if to say, Don’t be so rude. “I don’t mean that Ana’s lame. I mean her dad is lame, you know, for making her work,” Ava adds, correcting herself.

“It’s okay,” I reply glumly. “You’re right. It is lame.”

“It’s not all that bad,” Jessica says, trying to cheer me up. “With some money, you can finally buy those great earrings we saw at Sparks.”

“Yeah,” I say, dropping my eyes and poking at my salad again. Jessica is super sweet and a great best friend. But there’s nothing she can do to get me out of this mood.

It’s just not fair! I’m pretty sure that my family is the only one in the whole school who never goes anywhere during spring break. Things get awfully complicated for my family in March and April.

For one thing, even though it’s “spring break,” it still feels like winter in Chicago. My mom is a pediatrician, and this time of year she’s bombarded with kids coming down with the flu.

And it’s not like my dad can take us anywhere alone. My dad is an accountant, which means he has to help dozens of people do their taxes before April fifteenth. So he can’t take off work either.

My mom’s go-to response is, “We’ll make it up to you in the summer,” and it is true—we always go on a nice vacation in the summer. But our last vacation is a distant memory, and in two weeks all I have to look forward to is filing folders in my dad’s office, watching the snow fall outside.

“Well, the week goes by fast anyway,” Jessica says.

Emily takes a break from scrolling on her phone to show us her screen. “Hey, I forgot that Mammoth Lodge has horseback riding! Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

Ava looks at all of us and leans in. In a hushed voice, she says, “Okay. If you could go on spring break with any boy in our class, who would it be?”

“That’s easy. Aiden Jones,” Emily replies. “He’s so cute.”

“No way!” Ava squeals. “I was going to pick him!”

“Well, I think I would want to go with Evan Davis,” Jessica says a little shyly.

“Him? He’s so nerdy!” Emily laughs.

Jessica blushes. “That’s why I like him,” she says.

Ava turns to me. “What about you, Ana?”

I shrug. “I don’t really know.” Which is true. I have never had a real crush on a boy yet. Sure, there are some nice, cute boys in my class, but I would never think of, like, dating any of them. “Besides, it doesn’t matter, because I’m not going on spring break anyway,” I respond.

Finally the lunch bell rings. I’m so glad the conversation is over, but I already know that spring break will be the only thing on my mind all day.

I’ll keep working on Mom and Dad, I think as I grab the rest of my books for my afternoon classes. There has to be some way to save spring break! I’ll wait and bring it up at dinner tonight.

It’s Thursday night, which means that Mom gets home late, and Dad decides to make something easy for dinner. Tonight it’s spaghetti with cooked meatballs from the freezer. I’ve been told to make the salad. My twin brother, Adam, is in charge of garlic bread, and we both have to set the table.

When I walk into the kitchen to make the salad, I find a pot of boiling water. My dad is infamous for starting things in the kitchen and then wandering off to make a phone call or check something on his computer. My mom gets so mad—because of the whole you-can-burn-down-the-house thing. Usually we all yell at him when this happens, but tonight I just take the big yellow salad bowl out of the cabinet, get the vegetables out of the refrigerator, and then put them on the counter. Next I take out the box grater so I can shred the carrots into the salad, just the way my dad likes it. Normally I just chop them up because I’ve always been a little afraid of using the grater, but tonight I have to keep my dad’s spirits high.

Adam comes into the kitchen while I’m grating the carrots and stops when he sees me.

“So what are you asking Dad for?” he asks.

I’m not surprised that Adam can tell that I have ulterior motives for grating the carrots. It’s one of those twin things. It’s not like we can read each other’s minds or anything, but sometimes I just know what Adam is going to say before he says it, and vice versa—stuff like that. Or I can usually tell just by looking at Adam if he’s worried about something, or keeping a secret, or coming down with a cold.

I peek over my shoulders and around the room before explaining. Parents have a way of popping up behind you when you least expect them.

“I really want us to go on spring break,” I reply.

Adam nods. “Me too. But you know we can’t go.”

“But there’s got to be some way,” I point out. “Mom can’t be the only doctor in Chicago who treats the flu. She could find someone to fill in for her.”

“Yeah, well, what about Dad?” Adam asks.

“He could have a working vacation,” I reason. “He does half of his work here on his computer anyway.”

Adam walks up to the counter, picks up a carrot, and bites into it. “Might work. Go for it.”

That’s Adam, I think, just happy to go with the flow. If I didn’t bring up spring break, Adam wouldn’t have bothered to mention it. That’s just the way he is.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that we’re twins. Sure, we both have fair skin, hair that can’t decide if it’s brown or black, and brown eyes. And we both have what our parents call the “Miller nose,” which turns up a little bit at the end and which every Miller is supposedly born with.

But I’m about a half an inch taller than Adam (although Dad always points out that boys grow more slowly than girls). And Adam’s brown eyes have a hint of green in them while mine are a light brown.

Anyway, lots of brothers and sisters look alike, not just twins. But our personalities—that’s where we’re really different. Adam is always really… mellow. Things never bug him. He just takes everything in stride. If his pillow is lumpy, he’ll sleep on it without complaining.

I’m the opposite. If something is bugging me, I want to—no, have to—fix it. If I have a lumpy pillow, I won’t sleep a wink until I find a pillow without lumps.

My mom uses the same sentence to describe our personalities to everyone: “If life were an ocean, Adam would be riding the currents and Ana would be on a Jet Ski speeding past him.” And the funny thing is, I’m sure that Mom is complimenting me, but Adam is always confident that he’s the one being complimented. Mom says that means we’re each happy with who we are, and that that is good.

Just then, I notice steam pouring from under the lid of the pot my dad put on the stove, so I grab a rag to pick up the lid and peek inside.

“Dad, you’re boiling!” I call out.

My dad comes rushing in, tucking his phone into his front shirt pocket. He picks up a box of spaghetti from the counter and dumps it into the boiling water.

“Thanks, Ana,” he says. “Oh gosh! I forgot to do the meatballs. Guess I’ll microwave them. Mom will be home soon.”

I finish up the salad at the same time that Adam gets done slathering butter on the bread and sprinkling it with garlic powder.

“Dad, can you turn on the broiler?” Adam asks.

“Sure thing,” Dad says.

While Adam reaches into the cabinets to grab the plates, I take the utensils out of the drawer.

“That’s five,” I correct him. “We only need four, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Adam says casually, putting a plate back, but I see a brief cloud pass over his face. The fifth plate would have been for our older brother, Kai, who is away at college for his spring semester. I miss him a lot, but I know Adam misses him even more.

Fifteen minutes later, the table is set with the salad, garlic bread, and spaghetti and meatballs. Dad gives Adam and me a high five right as Mom walks into the kitchen.

“We are a well-oiled machine,” Dad says.

“Smells great in here!” says my mother. She peels off her hat, coat, scarf, and gloves. Underneath it all is an average-sized woman with jet-black straight hair like Adam’s and mine, and a perfectly fine nose (even though it isn’t a “Miller nose”).

My mom washes her hands at the sink (“Hand washing is the enemy of germs!” is her motto), and then we all sit down at the table. We chat for a few minutes about the usual stuff—what happened in school, the client who brought Dad chocolate-chip cookies, Mom’s patient who stuck a marble up his nose. Then there’s a break, and a moment of silence. This is my chance.

“So, I’ve been thinking. It’s not too late for us to plan a trip for spring break,” I say. “In fact, I saw some great last-minute deals online.”

My mom lets out a huge sigh. “Oh, honey, I know how much you want a break, but you know that your dad and I have to work.”

“I was thinking about that,” I counter, then I launch into the plan that I shared with Adam. “So it’s definitely possible, right?” I say when I finish.

“You know that you two have to be careful in the sun because of your fair skin,” Mom says.

“You know we’re always careful when we go out in the sun,” I reason. “And anyway, I’d be happy just to get away. We don’t have to go to a beach. There’s lots we could do.”

Here Mom and Dad look at each other. I wish I could read their faces the same way I can read Adam’s, but my parents are a different story.

“We’ll think about it,” Mom says, and I decide not to push it any further, that’ll have to be good enough. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to think about it for the rest of dinner.

Once we finish eating Adam and I clear the table and I head up to my room, taking two steps at a time. I open my laptop and immediately start searching the web.

Best spring break destinations, I type, and pictures of palm trees and white beaches pop up on the screen. Everything looks amazing. I jot down notes about the ones that seem the best, like a hiking trip out West and a scuba-diving vacation in the Caribbean. I even take down the info on Mammoth Lodge just in case my parents don’t want to go too far.

But I know my parents, and a great destination alone isn’t enough to sway them.

I delete my previous search and type benefits of vacation and tons of articles appear—some of them are even written by doctors. Mom is going to love that.

I read a few of them, taking a lot of notes. One article mentions that people who take vacations get sick less often and are less stressed out. Another one says that people who go on vacation are more productive at work. My dad is going to love that one.

I start putting together a presentation on my computer using all the research I just did. I’m pulled away from my computer by Dad’s knock on the door.

“You’re awfully quiet in here. Homework?” he asks.

“No, a special project,” I answer.

“Well, good for you,” he says. “But you need to wrap it up and get ready for bed, okay, hon?”

“Sure, Dad,” I say. I don’t need the presentation anyway. I’m going to slay them with my amazing facts!

As I fall into a deep sleep, I start dreaming about sitting under an umbrella on a white sandy beach, listening to the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore.