I sigh. Bea likes to know everything, so of course she will claim to have known all along my mom had a shady past. “Remember, do not tell your parents. And I have to go back there. In daylight. The house felt… familiar.” “Familiar” isn’t the right word. The right word is “grounding,” and “homey,” and “right” in a way I can’t quite explain. It almost makes me feel homesick.

“Familiar?”

“Yeah. It felt like… I’d been there before.”

“Déjà vu?” she suggests.

I shake my head. “Déjà vu” isn’t quite right either, because every bit of the house was brand-new to me; it was the feeling that I recognized. Worn-in and sort of ordinary and comfortable. “It felt like…” With a start, I realize what it felt like. “It felt like home.”

“Home? Like in LA? Or in New York with your dad?”

I know the answer to that. It felt like my before home. When I knew where I fit. The thought makes every part of me ache. But I don’t want to drag Bea through that, so I shove the thought to the back of my mind.

“I need to figure out who the boy is,” I say, pushing my emotions aside. My phone vibrates and I look down to see that my dad is trying to calling. “Bea! It’s my dad. I’ve got to go.”

“Call me back.” Her voice sounds worried, which, obviously, I hate. Bea has her own problems to deal with. She shouldn’t have to deal with mine.

I jog up the street, fumbling to hit answer. “Dad?”

“Hi, Will. Sorry it took me so long to call.”

I cast a long look down the street. What if the boy is still here…? But no. And I’m oddly disappointed by that. I push the boy’s face out of my mind—right now I need to focus on my dad.

“How’s Australia?” Like usual, I’m relieved to hear his voice. My dad and I have always had an okay relationship, maybe not terribly deep, but that makes sense when we spend so much time away from each other.

“Oh… fine. Tired.” A kids’ TV show blares in the background, and I can hear several tiny voices arguing. “MINE!” June yells.

“How’s your week going?”

“Well…” Now that he’s on the line, I’m not entirely sure where to begin.

“Ollie, give it back,” my dad says, his voice muffled. “June? Let go of your brothers.”

I close my eyes briefly. Thinking about June, Ollie, and Emmitt’s antics is so normal, it makes today’s strangeness stand out even more. Typically, I try not to bring my parents into each other’s lives, but this time feels important. I could use some support. And judging by the commotion in the background, I probably have about three minutes.

“Dad, what do you know about… Mom’s family? And childhood?”