Page 1 of Full Throttle

Prologue

Dominique (Nikki)

Twenty-Seven Years Ago

The blonde boy was my favorite.

I’d only been on this planet for seven years (I told Mom I come from Jupiter), and I’d never seen a human like that. He was so pale; his hair remained me of snow in the sunshine. His eyes were the most beautiful of all, a winter blue that made me want something warm to drink. The boy next to him, his brother (I think), wasn’t pale. In fact, his skin was kissed like the sun, much like mine and Mom’s. Dad told me that all I’d have to do to get the sun to kiss me was to stand outside for five minutes, and I’d come back in with a “glow.”

The boys were playing outside, the pale one standing under the tree as his brother threw a football to him from the middle of their front yard. I tugged my teddy bear closer to me as I heard a woman shout from the inside of their sad looking house. It was the smallest on the street, with nothing but dirt for a yard, toys and two bikes taking up most of it. I watched as both boys jumped at the sound of the woman’s voice, the pale boy dropping the ball immediately.

“Dominique,” Mom called from behind me, her echo bouncing off the walls of the mover’s truck.

The boys next door both looked in my direction. I didn’t pay much attention to the dark-haired one, even though I could feel him giving me a nasty look. My focus remained on the blonde, his pretty eyes staring back at me as his pale brows came together, a frown on his lips shortly following.

“Hi!” I shouted, waving at them.

Mom said this move was going to be a fresh start for us, that we had to make the best of things. She told me I needed to make new friends, because we were going to be here for a long time.

Both boys continued to stare at me, and the hand I’d been waving slowly dropped.

Dad said that boys were going to be weird around me because I was a girl, and boys my age didn’t know what to do with girls. When I asked Dad how he knew, he smiled and replied, “Because a long time ago, I was a little boy. I know these things, Nikki.”

The woman from inside their house started yelling again, and this time, I heard what she said.

They weren’t nice words, and I hoped she wasn’t saying those words to the boys. I bit my lip as I watch both boys run inside, climbing up the porch steps, yanking the broken screen door open. When they were gone, I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

“Dominique, I’ve been calling for you,” Mom said as I looked up at her. Her brownish-red hair was twisted up in a big clip, a few strays hanging around her sweaty face as her green eyes scolded me.

“Sorry, Mom,” I muttered. “I was just trying to make new friends.”

Mom looked over to the neighbor’s yard, inhaling a deep sigh as her eyes assessed the state of it. “I see. Come inside. We’ve gotten all your boxes out of the truck.”

I groaned. I hated packing up my old room, and I knew that unpacking it would be just as fun. “Can Dad do it for me?” I begged.

“No, he went to get some lunch.”

My ears perked up. “Pizza?”

Mom turned me around. “Gosh, I hope not. I’m getting tired of pizza,” she muttered as we walked up the driveway, passing the mover’s truck.

“But Dad and I love it,” I stated plainly, as if she didn’t know that we thought pizza was the greatest thing on the planet.

“Yes,” she drawled. “I know you do.”

Hours later, after I’d eaten two slices of the cheesiest pizza ever, I went back up to my new room. Pushing open the door, I ignored the low groan of the hinges as my mess greeted me. My teddy was on my bed, propped up against the mountain of Buzz Lightyear pillows. I wasn’t really interested in princesses. I wanted to know about the stars and planets. I also really loved Toy Story. Mom didn’t like that I liked it, but Dad told her it was okay. My clothes were piled on the end of my bed alongside a basket of coat hangers for me to hang everything up in the small closet across the room. It didn’t even have a real door, just a sliding one. I thought that was weird. Our old house had real closet doors.

“We have to forget the old house,” I mumbled, kicking my soccer ball lightly as I walked to the bed. Those were Mom’s words.

She’d been different ever since Dad got fired. I may only be seven, but I knew what that meant. It was a surprise, and Mom didn’t take it very well. She went for a walk for a really long time that night. Dad made me dinner, and then we’d watched a movie. She came back right before my bedtime, but she didn’t kiss me goodnight.

That was two months ago.

Now, Dad has a new job, in a new city. Detroit.

Mom said we're going to be happy again, that everything is “fresh.”

It sucked moving, and I’d miss my friends, but right now, I really missed my old bedroom.

---