Chapter 1: Meli
Until several months ago, I could’ve counted on one hand the things I knew about Roxy Romero.

One: She was captain of the flag football team.

Two: She always got her way, like when she became our sixth-grade class president by a landslide, same as in fifth grade, and fourth.

Three: Our little brothers have the same name. Hers goes by Ben, mine goes by Benji, but everyone in third grade called them the Bens.

Four: Last year, Roxy stole my favorite purple pen. She “borrowed” it to sign everyone’s yearbook, misspelled my name with two S’s, then never gave it back.

And five? I used to not have any other fun facts about Roxy Romero until one day, I learned a big one.

Five: Roxy’s dad and my mom were dating.

So not fun. So, unfortunately, fact.

“Reservation under Carlos Romero, please. Party of six.”

It was the last week of school and our parents had taken us to Bacio del Capo (chef’s kiss in Italian), a fancy but casual restaurant where people ate like they were at home sharing the same main dish. That’s what the website said, anyway. I’d read up on it on the way over because I wanted to know what to expect.

“Something’s weird about this place,” Roxy said as we followed the hostess to a large, round table in the corner of the room.

“They call it family style,” I whispered. “It means we get our own dishes, silverware, and condiments from over there.” I pointed to a counter with stacks of freshly washed plates against the wall. “And we ‘make ourselves at home.’?” I made air quotes with my fingers because those were the website’s words, not mine.

“Oh. That’s pretty cool, actually!”

This was easy for Roxy to say, since she actually had a home. Mine was all packed up in boxes. After my parents split last year, Mami decided we should sell the house. Papi had moved out long before the divorce was official, and he was always in another country, shooting travel documentaries for work. I’d known since I was little that my parents were happier people apart than as a couple, but still, sometimes my mind liked to play pretend. I’d imagine being part of a whole family again. In our house.

Roxy and her dad and Ben? They weren’t exactly part of the fantasy.

I sighed. It’s not like I hated Roxy. I just wasn’t her number one fan like everyone else in our school. Even before our parents started dating, she and I didn’t mix. Once, at Field Day, we got paired for the three-legged race, and we couldn’t get in step to save our lives. I was yelling “Wait up!” and she was yelling “You got this!” when we tripped over each other into a big old pile of mud. Our parents came rushing to help, and that’s how they met—their origin story was our literal downfall. Mami went all heart-eyes for Carlos after he helped me wobble off the field, and now they were constantly making us hang out. There was that time they signed us up for a volleyball tournament, but I got a random nosebleed before my feet even touched sand. Then they tried to make us bond over a pottery-making class, but Roxy’s lump of clay catapulted off the wheel and landed right on top of the flower-shaped mug I was making for Mami.

We didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers because Roxy had never bothered asking me. We were polar opposites with nothing in common, but our parents wanted us to become BFFs. I already had those. James, Janette, and I had our own group chat because we’d been best friends and neighbors ever since we were in kindergarten.

Now that our house had finally sold, all that was about to change.

“There’s always room for more friends,” Mami loved to say. But I didn’t want new friends, or a new house, or a replacement for Papi. I just wanted my old life back.

“You okay, Meli? You were so quiet on the way over,” Mami said. “I thought you’d be excited to celebrate the new house.”

That was Mami’s favorite word lately: excited. She was all about looking on the bright side of things, acting like the big changes in our lives were happy ones. I knew she was just trying to keep me and Benji from being sad about missing Papi, so I tried to play along and not be a party pooper. Besides, real artists used art to express their complicated emotions. And I had a lot of those.

“I am excited. I was just… brainstorming ideas for my presentation. You know how distracted I get when inspiration strikes.” The Summer Kickoff Talent Show was the biggest event of the school year, and I’d been working on my sculpture for months. This week I’d finally share it with everyone.

We took a seat. Mami sat annoyingly close to Carlos, Roxy and I sat next to each of our parents, and the Bens closed our circle by sitting side by side. Right away they opened the crayon boxes on the table and started playing tic-tac-toe on the paper place mats.

“The talent show? Trust me, don’t stress it,” Roxy said. “It’s the last thing people will care about on the last day of school.”

“I care about it. And who said anything about being stressed?” I’d been feeling pretty good about it, actually, until Roxy decided to diss it.

Roxy’s jaw dropped, and she took in a quick breath. “Oh. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“Just that you’ll be… never mind.”

That was one of the new facts I’d learned about Roxy since our parents started dating.

Six: She didn’t really think before she spoke.

“Okay then!” Roxy’s dad clapped his hands together and set a giant iPad on the table. “Who wants to see pictures of the new house?”

Mami placed her hand over his. “Shouldn’t we wait until after we eat? We never have screens during dinner.”

It was true. Mami’s rules were ironclad. For once, I was glad, because I’d seen the new house on Mami’s phone and it was really old. And ugly. But Mami also had a rule about not being rude and always being nice if you can help it. So I’d flipped through the pictures and said the house looked vintage.

Carlos grinned, not even a little bit discouraged. “But Evy, I think the kids will be excited to see the surprise on the last slide.”

Roxy leaned forward while I tried not to roll my eyes. It was probably something cheesy like a confetti meme or a video of Carlos moonwalking across our new kitchen. Roxy’s dad had a way of treating any piece of good news like an excuse for a touchdown dance.

“Bueno, just this once,” Mami said. I stiffened. Mami never made exceptions: not for me, or Benji, or my dad. Never, ever. What made Roxy’s dad so special?

“Excellent,” Carlos said, and pressed play. A slideshow with a cheery piano tune blasted from the speaker as image after image popped up. The house was boxy, with blue and white awnings and windows made of glass blocks that looked like ice cubes. It had orange ceramic roof tiles that were green from mold, and the backyard was full of overgrown banana trees. Who needed that much fruit?

“It’s awesome,” Ben said in a low, awestruck voice. “Like a wild jungle out of a story.”

“Well, yes, the landscape is a little… overgrown,” Mami said, just as the pictures switched to the inside, which wasn’t in much better shape. “It’s a fixer-upper, but it has good bones.”

“Like a dinosaur!” Benji practically roared.

“Yes, hijito, like a dinosaur,” Mami said.

“Except you can actually bring this one back to life,” Roxy added.

Everyone laughed except for me. All I could think about was my old room. Two years ago, for my tenth birthday, Papi had taken me to the home improvement store and told me I could redecorate however I wanted. He filmed the before and after on his phone and made a mini documentary, our very own home makeover show. But now he was halfway across the world in Spain, shooting a documentary about history. My bedroom would soon be a memory I couldn’t go back to.

“It’s a cute house,” Roxy said. “It has loads of potential.”

“You sound like your dad,” I said.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Maybe it was. This was Carlos’s fault, after all. The Miami Weekly had voted him “Everyone’s favorite family real estate agent,” according to the ads I’d seen on bus benches. He’s the one who helped my mom sell our old house and buy this new one.

“I just think it’s easy to sell someone on a new house if you’re not the one that has to live in it,” I finally blurted.

“Meli! That’s not nice,” Mami said.

“Are you calling my dad a sellout?” Roxy scoffed.

Mami and Carlos looked so hurt that I felt like the world’s biggest meanie. I tried to backtrack. “What? No! What I meant was, Carlos is really good at what he does. He makes every house look amazing.”

“Wow. That’s so kind of you, Meli, thank you,” Carlos said.

Way to overcorrect, Melisa. Carlos was a nice-enough guy, but what did I know about his job performance? I guess I’d just felt bad about being rude.

Mami glowed, grinning ear to ear. For months now, she’d been asking me question after question about Carlos: How do you like him? Isn’t he great? How are you and Roxy getting along?

My answers were always more or less the same: He seems cool. He’s really something. Fine, same as always.

Technically all of those things were true. Even though they weren’t the rave reviews Mami clearly hoped for, they seemed to make her happy. After she and Papi divorced, Mami became so quiet and sad that I got into the habit of trying to cheer her up. Now Carlos was always the one doing that. And tonight, Mami was bubbly with joy.

“You’re right, Meli. Carlos always outdoes himself. In fact, kids, something really special happened this afternoon. When we finally got the keys to the house…”

“We made things official!” Carlos swiped the screen to the next slide. It was a picture of keys in a jewelry box, right next to… a diamond ring?!

“No way. You’re getting married?” Roxy nearly jumped out of her chair, and the boys started cheering.

My throat went dry. My mind became an echo chamber of no, no, no, no, no! All I managed to say was, “Wait, does this mean the new house—”

“Is going to be our new home! For all of us!” Mami said.

“And we’re going to fix it up just in time for the wedding at the end of the summer!” Carlos added.

“Yesssss!” Benji said. “This is the best day ever.” He jumped up and hugged my mom and then Carlos, and soon they were all having their own little lovefest. I wished I could slip below the table, never to be found again. Roxy slouched in her chair, looking like her flag football team had just lost zero to a hundred.

“¿Chicas?” Mami suddenly remembered we existed. “We thought you’d be happy.”

Carlos offered his hand to Roxy. “You always said you wanted a sister.”

We locked eyes and waited to see what the other would say.

“Buona sera, everyone!” A cheerful waitress with a name tag that said JULIA greeted us in exaggerated Italian. “What can I get you all to drink?”

“Um…” Roxy blinked like she’d just woken up from a nightmare. “I’d like a Sprite, please.” I waited for Mami to interrupt. Soda on a weeknight? No way. But she was too busy taking her engagement ring out of her purse to notice.

“And for your sister?” Julia asked.

“We’re not sisters,” we both snapped.

“Jinx!” the Bens sang.

“Stop it!” we said in sync again. We gasped and turned to each other. “Now you’re just—”

I stopped talking.

“—doing it on purpose,” Roxy said.

“Not sisters. Got it. I’ll be back with your drink orders!” Julia said. She was gone before I could ask for an apple juice.

“Well, this is off to an interesting start,” Carlos said, raising his eyebrows at Mami.

“How could she confuse us for sisters? We look nothing alike,” Roxy said.

It was true. Roxy had light brown wavy hair that stopped at her shoulders, while mine was straight, brownish black, and braided halfway down my back. She had a mist of freckles over her nose (Mami always said they were so cute), whereas all I had was a dimple on my left cheek. Everything about us was opposite: Roxy’s features were sharp but mine were round; she was always dressed sporty but I liked more flowy, boho styles. Plus, I was at least three inches taller than her.

“Indeed. Chicas, why don’t you go grab us some plates and silverware while we decide what we want to order for our first meal as a family?”

Roxy’s chair screeched as she got up. “Can we get spaghetti and meatballs?”

“I’d like the lasagna, please,” I said.

Mami put her hands in the air like it wasn’t her decision. “It’s all meat and red sauce and pasta, no matter how you slice it.”

“This is bananas,” Roxy said as we walked away. “They expect us all to live together when we can’t even agree on dinner?”

I agreed but I didn’t say so. The restaurant had gotten loud. There was a musician going table to table with an accordion, and a photographer taking group pictures of customers. Pots and pans clanged and steam hissed out of the kitchen. It made me feel trapped. I decided to focus on our task instead.

“Here. I’ll get the big plates, you carry the salad plates,” I said, handing her a small stack of six porcelain dishes before picking up the dinner plates.

“Why? We can each just use one plate.” Roxy placed the smaller plates back on the counter. “Less mess.”

“No, Mami always uses a separate plate for the salad.”

“That’s silly. Changing it up for once won’t hurt her.”

I piled the plates onto my stack this time. “Well, maybe my mom doesn’t want any more big changes in her life.”

Roxy started trying to take the small stack back. “Well, maybe she should try loosening up a little!”

I had a feeling we weren’t talking about the plates anymore.

“Maybe no one ever asked for your opinion!” I said, snatching them out of her reach.

“Well mayb—”

Crashhhh.

All twelve dishes fell to the floor, their pieces shattering at our feet. The restaurant got super quiet, then erupted into applause and laughter. Roxy brought her hands to her forehead and started breathing real fast. I felt like my face was on fire, and my cheeks tingled like when you hold back a sneeze.

“Oh no. What did you do?” she said.

“Me? You’re the one who dropped the plates because you weren’t getting your way.”

“My way? Ha! Moving in with you just because our parents got engaged is definitely not my way.” Roxy’s eyes formed tiny slits, sharp as a paper cut as she looked at me. Right then and there, I decided I’d learned two new things about her.

Seven: Roxy Romero was not my friend.

Eight: There was no way she was going to be my sister.

“Girls! Are you okay?” Carlos ran up behind us lightning fast.

“Ay, no,” Mami said when she caught up to us. “Where’s the manager? We’re going to need you girls to apologize.”

I could tell she was really upset, but then by some miracle the manager said no apology was necessary. He actually laughed and led us back to our table while the crew cleaned up. “In parts of Italy, breaking plates is a New Year’s tradition. It represents getting rid of the old and making room for the new! You did us a favor six months ahead of time!”

“Is that so?” Mami said, pinching my chin.

I blinked away hot tears. This was exactly what I was afraid of. It was bad enough that Mami had sold our house and I’d no longer live near my best friends, but now we’d have to fix up the new one, move in with the Romeros, and deal with the chaos of wedding planning, all in the summer before seventh grade. Why did everything have to break just for us to start over?

“Let’s keep the celebration going!” Julia said as she brought everyone but me their drinks. She signaled for the photographer to come to our table and our parents squished us all together.

“Say famiglia!” the photographer said.

The boys’ faces broke into cheesy grins. Roxy curled her lips without showing any teeth. My smile felt stiff and fake, like it’d been plastered onto my mouth.

The camera flashed once, then twice. “That’s going straight into the family album!” Carlos said.

Us, a family? I didn’t want to picture it. Not now, not ever.