Prologue

The ceiling light of the hospital's small examination room flickered, making that dull buzzing sound of electricity that was about to go out. Aurora Jones sat rigid in her seat, occasionally shaking from her nerves. She felt so sick. So, so numb.

"Rory—" Her brother began before the door flung open. A nurse quickly shuffled into the room with another woman in tow, who shut the door quietly behind her. The nurse gently stated that she needed to go over a few things with them before they could finish paperwork, and how sorry she was to inconvenience them during this difficult time. Peter glanced over to Rory, who just stared straight ahead into nothingness, before answering the nurse's questions. Rory had them completely tuned out, only hearing the ringing of the unclarity of their voices in her ears. She shivered again. After a while, she focused her hearing.

"Is there a next-of-kin that we need to notify?" The nurse asked.

"It's just us." Peter stated, staring blankly into the void as he absentmindedly squeezed his sister's hand. Rory snapped back to reality.

"My uncle," Rory choked out hoarsely. Her throat was froggy from being silent for so long. "FP Jones." The nurse nodded and made her way to the door.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before the nurse had dipped out of the room. She saw Peter shaking hands with the woman who remained in there with them. The woman's other arm held a thick black binder with papers sticking out of it.

Was it supposed to happen this way? First my best friend, and not even a couple weeks later, my own mother? Why wasn't I crying? Why hadn't I cried?

"Miss Jones,"

Am I a sociopath?

"Miss Jones!" She was snapped to reality by the shrill voice of the woman in front of her. She mumbled an apology sheepishly. "Since you're still underage, you'll be sent into foster care," Rory rapidly shook her head in both protest and utter confusion. "Unless you'd rather be with your uncle?" She suggested. "He has a record... but he is your only surviving family. I don't know for certain if they'll allow it."

"Can I not live with my brother and my dad?" She asked quizzically.

"Unfortunately, no, his father isn't biologically related to you, and he and your mother split up long before her untimely death so he isn't technically considered your stepfather," The woman stated, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Rory stared blankly at the woman in front of her. What did she mean they weren't biologically related? "I'm sorry, I thought you would have known that. You didn't find it odd that you two have different last names?" She asked condescendingly.

"They told me that they had a fight during our birth, and Peter was born first, before the fight. She said that by the time that they made up my birth certificate was already finalized, and it cost too much to have it changed," Rory stated vacantly. Peter shifted stiffly. Her mind began to race, but she somehow managed to shove it to the back of her mind when the woman rudely snapped her fingers in front of her face. Peter hadn't said a word. "Did you know about this?" She asked, her words dripping with agony.

"I found out a couple of months ago." He sighed before burying his head into his hands. She felt like the knife in her chest had been twisted. He'd known for months and he didn't bother to tell her, her own twin brother… She felt betrayed.

"Well apparently I'm the last to know important details about my own identity," Rory scoffed with tears welling up in her eyes. She clenched her fists, almost relishing in the pain of her nails digging into her palms to calm her nerves. "I'm not going to live with a bunch of strangers, so don't even think about putting me in a home," Rory said ardently. "Why can't I live at my house?"

"Despite the fact that you're a minor— "

"I'm seventeen!"

"That isn't the legal age of adulthood," she sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingertips. "Like I was saying, despite the fact that you're a minor, you guys were already several months behind on rent."

"So, you would put an orphan on the streets?" She asked, shooting daggers at Peter on the word "orphan." He avoided eye contact.

"No, I would put an orphan with surviving family or a foster family, like I gave you the choice of. To be completely honest, your landlord was extremely gracious to let you both continue to live there rent-free for as long as you did," The woman suggested. Rory never bothered to learn her name. She had more important things to worry about, like if she was a sociopath or not, and who the fuck she's been calling "dad." "So, we can try to place you with your uncle, then?"

"Yes, make it happen. Please." The ugly truth was that she was conflicted. Her mother worked her entire life to keep them out of the southside, away from the crime and gangs that she grew up around. She worked double shifts for them to barely scrape by living in a small house on the edge of the northside. And now it seemed like all of her hard work was for nothing. There was too much piling on at once. She needed to interrogate Peter, and to confront her "father," but she couldn't deal with that right now. Not now. It's all too much.

Clouds of cigarette smoke enveloped Rory as she stepped into the White Wyrm. Rock music, laughter, and the clack-ing sound of pool balls seemed to shake the space from the ground up. She made her way to the bar.

"Ava? I haven't seen you here in ages! You look great." The bartender called to her. She sucked in a sharp breath and looked behind her to see if there was someone else there, and that it was just a coincidence. But no one was there, it was just her.

"I'm not Ava," She rasped, her voice kind of breaking mid-sentence. She still couldn't cry. Even at the sound of her name. "I'm her daughter."

The barkeep's smile grew even wider, though she couldn't understand why considering she had never seen this man in her life. "Little Aurora, right?" Rory gaped at him for a moment.

"Uh, yeah. Rory is fine. Though not quite little." She awkwardly chuckled and glanced around anxiously.

"Oh, sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I met you a couple times when you were a little girl. Before your mom stopped coming, that is. How is Ava, by the way?"

Her eyes darted down to her thumbs as she twiddled them idly. "She passed away... a couple days ago." He went silent and his smile quickly disappeared. The man shifted uncomfortably.

"I... I am so sorry to hear that. I'm not the best at comforting people... Can I get you a drink instead?" He offered, trying to joke some light to the uncomfortable situation he had just placed himself in.

"I'm only seventeen," She half smiled. "I'll have a Shirley Temple though," His smile crept back onto his face. "... What?" She asked hesitantly.

"It's just that that's what your mom used to order when we were all teenagers, when she was pregnant with you." Rory smiled at him. She was instantly grateful for that smile coming back onto his face, for that little tidbit of information about her mother that made her insides feel warm, and her eyes welled up. This is it, she thought. I'm finally going to cry. I'm not a sociopath. Then... nothing. "I'm Hog Eye, by the way." He extended his hand. She didn't let the nickname throw her. Being somewhat close to the "culture" of the Serpents made the things like weird nicknames familiar to her. She shook his hand gingerly.

Suddenly, the doors of the Wyrm burst open and two boys swaggered toward the bar. They were loud, pushing each other over and joking around obnoxiously. They looked familiar, most likely from the new wave of students that came over from Southside High a few months ago. They were shouting profanities toward the petite girl wiping down the bar, and she flipped them off before starting a conversation with them. The taller of the two boys caught Rory staring and she immediately snapped her head down to the Shirley Temple that Hog Eye had slid in front of her. She stirred the ice around with her straw.

"You lost, Northie?" She ignored him, fully knowing that he was addressing her. A bar stool scraped across the wood floor near the end of the counter before she heard shuffled movements coming her direction. "You hear me talking to you?" He said a little louder.

"Leave her alone, dude." The pink-haired girl from behind the bar rolled her eyes. She gave Rory an apologetic look. Her eyes were big and soft, and she seemed to be truly genuine with her expression. The boy scoffed at her with a smirk and leaned against the counter next to Rory.

"I asked if you were lost. You deaf?"

"And what if I was? What would you do?" Rory turned to him with an amused expression. He gazed at her with his mouth slightly agape for a moment as he tried to grasp for a response. "Right." She snorted before taking a sip of her drink. A thick black curl hung loosely between his furrowed eyebrows.

"Sweet Pea, cut it out. She's having a hard time." The girl piped in again. Rory was kind of annoyed that she had eavesdropped on her and Hog Eye's conversation, but then again, they were in the center of a bar and weren't talking in privacy.

"Sweet Pea?" Rory raised an eyebrow with a smirk, turning toward the boy with her entire body now. She needed this distraction. Even if it was sure to turn out as an annoying encounter.

"Yeah, don't let the name fool you." He replied flatly.

"He's a dick." The other boy spoke up for the first time, then grunted when Sweet Pea kicked backward, hitting the boy in the thigh. He pushed Sweet Pea's shoulder in return, but his eyes never left hers and he didn't even budge, aside from his shoulder jerking forward.

"If you're going to be in my house, I need to know who I'm letting in." He huffed.

"My name is Aurora. My friends call me Rory," she sighed, deciding to humor him. Sweet Pea snorted mockingly. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is something funny?"

"Aurora? You mean... like the Disney princess?" She rolled her eyes at his response.

"At least I'm not named after a vegetable." She muttered. The two other teenagers laughed. Sweet Pea crossed his arms over his chest as he mumbled for the others to shut up through gritted teeth.

"I'm Toni Topaz. This is Fangs Fogarty." The girl piped in and motioned with her elbow as she wiped out a pint glass. Fangs gave a lazy salute with a coy smile. Sweet Pea was visibly growing increasingly more agitated.

"Look, Northsider, you aren't welcome here —"

"Sweet Pea!" A loud voice boomed from across the room. "Are you giving my niece a hard time? Where is your Serpent hospitality?" The room grew nearly silent aside from the music as FP filed toward us. Sweet Pea's jaw instantly went slack as Fangs slowly walked backward, knocking a barstool over. Sweet Pea quizzically looked from Rory, to FP, and back again. She smiled sweetly.

"Did I mention that I'm a Jones?"