2. Sequin

2

SEQUIN

T en minutes later, Silver brings my backpack to the table. “We should head out. The bus will be here soon.”

Grandpop and Aunt Emerald are still there, chatting with Mom about when our other family members are scheduled to arrive. I wave to them as I put on my backpack and follow Silver into the living room. It’s my favorite room in our house. Every square inch of wall space is covered in gold and silver picture frames. There are school photos of all five of us for every year, dozens of vacation pictures, and snapshots of us as little raccoon kits.

At the center of the room is the biggest chandelier in the house. Real crystals hang from a wide golden base, leaving the whole room twinkling with light. When I was a kid, I used to lie on the floor and stare at the way the light reflected off the gold and silver picture frames for hours. There’s nothing better than getting lost in the happy haze all raccoon shifters get when we find something shiny.

Silver opens the front door, and we step out into the bright morning.

“It’s already hotter than hell out here,” Link complains. He, Coin, and Tin are waiting for us out by the bushes that Mom’s been trying to keep alive for three years. They still look a little shriveled, despite her efforts. On the other side of the bush is an old car raised up on cinder blocks.

I glance below said cinder blocks as casually as possible. Peeking out from underneath the rusted frame of the car is a familiar tattooed, muscular arm. That arm is very large because it belongs to Slade, who is rumored to be half grizzly bear shifter and half mountain lion shifter. I don’t know if that’s actually true. It’s just a rumor. There are lots of rumors about Slade. Some people say he went to jail in the middle of our junior year. He was gone for months, and when he returned, he had tattoos and much bigger arms.

I don’t think that’s any reason to assume he was in jail. He probably went to stay with a family member or something. People are far too quick to judge.

Slade rolls out from underneath the car and sits up. He’s wearing a pair of ratty jeans and a black T-shirt. He nods to me, the way cool people do instead of saying hello. I nod back, but I think I do it wrong, because he smiles. It’s not a friendly, wide smile; it’s a subtle, close-lipped smile that hints he’s trying not to laugh.

“Hey, Slade,” Link says loudly, drawing Slade’s attention away from me.

Slade’s gaze flicks to Link. “Hey.”

Link rests his hand on the front bumper of the old car. “Another beat-up car has found its way to your driveway. Imagine that.”

Silver rolls his eyes. “Leave him alone, Link.”

“What? Isn’t it interesting that all these cars show up in Slade’s driveway?” Link asks.

“It’s none of our business. Let’s go.” Silver starts walking down the crumbly sidewalk.

I’ve overheard our moms talking about the cars Slade fixes. They’re worried the cars are stolen, but I don’t think Slade would get involved with something like that.

Sometimes my moms are also too quick to judge.

“Slade’s probably just helping a friend with car trouble,” I say.

Link lets out a breathy laugh. “Sure, Quin.”

That’s what they call me. Quin is short for Sequin. A lot of raccoon shifters shorten their names like that. Our parents name us after shiny things, which other people think is a little weird, so it’s easier to go by part of our name. Tin’s real name is Tinsel and Link’s real name is Cufflink.

Coin follows Link and Silver down the sidewalk, chiming in about how Link is being a dick, and Tin trails behind, walking slowly enough that I could catch up if I wanted to. But I don’t.

I step a little closer to Slade instead. He wipes his oily hands with a dirty rag and tosses it on the ground next to one of the cinderblocks.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say.

He lets out a gust of breath that’s almost a laugh. “It’s all good.” He leans against the car, but even hunched over like that, he’s taller than Link. He must be six foot three or four. He’s bigger than Link too, with a muscular chest to match his arms. I know he’s the same age as me, but he looks at least twenty-five.

I don’t usually like feeling small. But I like it when I’m standing next to Slade. It’s different with him. Instead of feeling silly and short, I feel overwhelmed by his size.

“It’s my birthday,” I say, even though he probably doesn’t care. We’re not really friends. I like to wait for him to leave his house before walking toward the bus stop each morning in the hope that we’ll get to walk together, and sometimes I bake something for his foster mom because he often answers the door when I drop it off, but he’s never shown any interest in me.

“How old are you?” Slade asks.

“Eighteen. I’m legal now.” I do this goofy little grin for some reason, and then I want to die of embarrassment. What is wrong with me?

“Legal to vote?” he teases.

“No. Legal to… you know.” Oh my God . I should stop talking now.

“Is that something you want me to know?” His eyes twinkle with amusement. Is he flirting with me? That can’t be right. He’s probably making fun of me. I can’t tell the difference.

Oh my God , oh my God , oh my God .

Link clears his throat loudly from further down the block. Why does he have to be like this in front of Slade? I don’t normally mind his antics, but this is too much.

“Sorry,” I say. “My brothers are annoying sometimes.”

Slade looks over at Link and the others. “You should go catch up.”

“But don’t you need to get to the bus too?” I ask. Internally, I cringe. I probably sound whiny and desperate.

“I will. Happy birthday, Quin.” He turns away from me. I guess I just can’t take a hint.

Someone tugs on my arm. I turn to see Silver standing beside me, his hand on my elbow. “The bus will be here any second.”

I know he’s right, but I don’t think preventing me from being late is the only reason he came back for me. He isn’t loud and obnoxious like Link, but Silver still tries to take care of me. Sometimes that’s nice, like when I’m sick or I genuinely need help, but sometimes it feels patronizing.

“Fine,” I say. I shoot one last look at Slade before I walk away. His piercing brown eyes are fixed on me again, and for a moment, I swear they drag down my body. I swallow hard, not sure how I should react.

He looks away, muttering something to himself. I can’t hear what.

Silver takes long strides with legs much taller than mine. I have to run to catch up to him.

“Lucas said Slade is mixed up with the cartel,” Silver whispers.

“How would he know?”

Silver slows, taking a deep breath. “The cartel is scary, Quin. You know they’ve been coming after raccoon shifters for a while.”

Raccoon shifters aren’t exactly celebrated in these parts. Most shifters only bond to another shifter of the same species. We’re the opposite. Our paws don’t work on other raccoon shifters.

People aren’t thrilled when their kids show up with a raccoon shifter mate in tow. Especially because we only have raccoon shifter children. Most shifters want their grandkids to shift into the same animal they do. That’s why people don’t like to give us jobs, and historically, it’s been safer for us to stay in trailer parks rather than move into other parts of town.

It’s also the reason we’re more vulnerable to the cartel. They like to get us under their thumb, because once they have control, it’s more difficult for us to escape.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being a raccoon shifter. Even when the kids in elementary school called us mongrels or weeds, I’ve never wanted to be anything but what I am. But Silver is right. We have to be more careful. That’s just the way things are.

“What if he isn’t mixed up with the cartel?” I ask. “Lucas could be wrong.”

Silver sighs. “Or he could be right.”

We reach the entrance to our trailer park, where Link, Coin, and Tin are already boarding a yellow bus. Silver waits for me to go first. He’s done that ever since the bus accidentally left me behind in second grade because I was so small, the driver didn’t see me.

Sometimes it feels like Silver doesn’t see me either. He only sees who I was—a tiny kid, too weak to fend for myself.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being nice to Slade,” I say, then climb the steps into the bus before he can respond.

If all of them are old enough to move away from home, I’m old enough to flirt with whoever I want.

It’s my Becoming Day too.