Serafine St. Romain, Via’s foster sister and best friend for the last decade, sat with her feet up on Via’s breakfast table, a bowl of cereal in her hands.

“No, sister. I’ve seen your next life. It’s not for a long time.” Serafine was from Louisiana and had spent the first thirteen years of her life in the bayou, surrounded by a little bit of voodoo, hoodoo and everything in between. She wasn’t magic, per se. But she was occasionally spookily right about the comings and goings of the world. Her messy dark hair tumbled over her pale shoulders and her eyes were way too alert for 6:00 a.m. “Did you hear me about the soy milk?”

“Yeah, I was gonna go grocery shopping tonight after work anyways.” Via’s stomach flipped. Work. Oh Lordy. Was there anything more nerve-racking than the first day of school? “Are you still up from last night?”

Serafine wasn’t a good sleeper. “Yeah. Weird vibes floating around Brooklyn last night. Just couldn’t drift off.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Fin.” Via waggled the coffeepot toward her friend and got a nod. Via poured two cups, tossed some cinnamon in one of them for Serafine and pulled up a chair next to her. “Just coming by to eat my cereal?”

They’d lived together up until four months ago when Via had finally saved up enough to live on her own. A personal dream of hers ever since she’d been shuffled into the foster system at age twelve. She loved her new little one-bedroom in Bensonhurst. It had peeling paint, sure, but good light and a real kitchen. And if she was lonely now and again, she figured that was just her body’s way of getting used to a new normal. Nothing to see here, folks.

Besides, Serafine stopped by a few times a week anyhow.

“I came to wish you luck, sister. On your very first day in a real public elementary.” Fin’s eyes took in Via’s outfit in a critical yet not judgmental way. “You look good.”

Via suspected she was a little dressier than she had to be in her emerald tailored pants and her ivory silk blouse, but she’d wanted to look a little older this morning. She’d wanted to look put-together in every possible way. God, she couldn’t wait until she hit thirty. She was twenty-seven and sick of it. Maybe it was her small stature or her young face, but she felt like she’d spent her entire life just shy of being taken seriously. She’d left her hair kissing her shoulders and added some small gold earrings that she’d splurged on when she’d been hired.

She teased at one of the earrings. She still couldn’t believe she could afford things like this. Shiny things. Superfluous things. Extras. Frosting, Jetty, her foster mother and Serafine’s aunt, had used to call things like that. Frosting on the cake of life. Well, Via had spent pretty much all of her twenties baking the cake, and now she was learning how to add a little frosting.