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Katrina glared at him defiantly as she launched a third rock at Celia. This one struck her arm as she held her hands up to block herself.

"I said stop it!" Vincent yelled.

"Make me," Katrina sneered, throwing another, hitting Celia right in the knee, the blow making her stumble.

Determination marred Vincent's young face. Growling, the boy picked up one of the rocks.

"Don't do it, Vincent!" Celia hollered, but it was too late. Vincent launched it straight at Katrina with all his might, the rock hitting her in the face.

Gasping, Katrina clutched her cheek as tears sprung to her eyes. Scampering to her feet, she let out a strangled sob. "I'm telling!"

Katrina sprinted off through the trees, back toward the house, knocking into Corrado as she ran. He let out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes. Vito's lectures about
not being a rat never
seemed to sink into Katrina's head.

"You shouldn't have done that, Vincent," Celia said.

"She was hurting you!"

"I'm fine," Celia said. "You're going to get in trouble, though."

"So?" Vincent said. "I don't care. She's mean, and she shouldn't hurt you!"

Corrado opened his eyes, sparing them a glance, before following his sister to diffuse the situation. He scarcely made it out of the trees when Mrs. DeMarco's shrill voice rang out through the yard. "Vincenzo Roman!"

Corrado's footsteps slowed, coming to a halt when the woman stormed out the back door, clutching a belt. Katrina stepped out behind her, still holding her cheek.

His stomach sunk. He knew from experience what would happen next.

Vincent didn't cry. His body was rigid, his shoulders squared as he marched through the back yard to face punishment. Celia ambled behind him, a troubled look on her face. Her breath painfully caught, a tear streaming down her cheek, when Mrs. DeMarco grabbed Vincent and raised the belt to strike him.

It happened so fast, yet in utter slow motion, as Corrado opened his mouth, his commanding voice echoing through the yard. "You shouldn't hit him."

All eyes shifted directly to him. Mrs. DeMarco hesitated. "Excuse me?"

"People should never be punished for protecting family," he said, reciting words his father had once told him. "No matter what."

Mrs. DeMarco stared at him, mouth agape. An eternity of strained silence passed before slowly, carefully, the woman lowered the belt and let go of Vincent. Mrs. DeMarco stood there, still staring at Corrado for a moment, before she pulled herself together. Her eyes surveyed the kids as she cleared her throat. "You all should learn to get along."

Katrina gasped. "But—"

"You heard me," Mrs. DeMarco said, silencing her as she headed back inside. Katrina shot Corrado a furious look before following the woman.

Stunned, Vincent plopped down in the yard, staring straight ahead, as if the last few minutes had robbed him of every last drop of energy. Corrado's gaze met a pair of watery brown eyes, regarding him curiously. Corrado couldn't quite get a read on Celia. Happy? Sad? Mad?

He smiled to ease the tension. "Hello."

Celia's eyes widened as she parted her lips, as if to respond, but all that met Corrado's ears was captivating, exhilarated laughter.

"Why don't you talk?"

Corrado stood in the shade of the tree, his hands in his pockets as he watched Vincent push his cars around the dirt track. He said nothing before his gaze shifted up to Celia. She sat on a branch in the tree above him, her feet level with his head. "I can talk."

"Well, obviously you
can
, but you don't do a lot of it."

"I don't have a lot to say."

"Your sister never shuts up."

Corrado let out a laugh at that.

Celia's expression brightened at the sound. "You laugh, too?"

"When something's funny."

"And you think your sister running her mouth is funny?"

"No, but you talking about it is."

Corrado turned his attention back to Vincent when the boy growled, making engine noises as he rammed his cars together, oblivious to anything outside of them. Strange, for someone who had nearly got beaten not long
ago.
He recovered quickly, trudging back out to the creek and picking up where he had left off. Celia had followed her brother, and curious, Corrado trailed right along.

"Why did you help my brother?"

The question caught Corrado off guard. "I said why."

"You said he shouldn’t be punished for protecting family."

He nodded.

"Why?"

Corrado looked back at the girl. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Does that bother you?"

"Yes."

She jumped down from the tree and skidded as her foot slid on some leaves. Instinctively, Corrado grabbed her before she hit the ground, keeping her upright. She gaped at him as he clutched her arm but recovered from the shock. "Why does it bother you?"

Shrugging, he let go of her. "It just does."

"Well, I like asking questions." She took a step back from him as her hand grasped her arm where he had touched her. Had he hurt her? "How else will I know things?"

"Do you always have to know things?"

A smile lit up her face. "Was that a
question
?"

He stared at her without responding. It felt as if she had tricked him some way.
How did she do that
?

"Fine," she said, looking away from him. "Mom wouldn't listen to me if I spoke up, but she listened to you, so thank you for that."

"You should thank your brother," Corrado said when Celia plopped down on the ground and grabbed a toy car. "He's the one who protected you."

"How come we've never met before?"

Corrado glanced up from his bed to the open doorway later that evening, seeing Celia lurking in the hallway.
More questions
.

"It's just," she continued, stepping into the room uninvited. Corrado's hair bristled, and he shifted away as she casually sat down on the bed beside him. "I know your dad. I see Vito all the time in Chicago."

"He works there."

"He lives there, too."

Corrado blinked a few times. "We live in Nevada."

"So why don't you live with him?"

"I do."

Celia cocked her head to the side as she studied him. "You're kind of weird."

Was she insulting him?

Celia shifted her body, drawing her legs beneath her on the bed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

A glint of amusement touched her eyes. "Can I ask another?"

He nodded slowly.

"Why didn't your mom come with you?"

"She said she wouldn't be run out of her house."

"Didn't your dad tell her it wasn't safe?"

"Yes."

"Isn't she scared?"

"No."

She blew out a deep breath. "Even Mom's scared, and she's not scared of anything. Daddy
made
us leave when things got bad. You know, because Sal's family died and stuff. I don't want to end up like them."

Corrado stared at her. He didn't know who Sal was, but this girl was a treasure chest of information.

"You don't have to be scared," Corrado said, sensing genuine fear in her voice. "My dad says it's safe here."

Celia relaxed. "I like you, Corrado."

Those words surprised him. "I thought I was weird."

"You are," she said. "But I still like you."

Corrado still kept an eye on his sister, shadowing her throughout the house, but he found his attention drifting more and more outside as the weeks passed.

Celia and Vincent played together every day, rarely arguing. He watched them, wondering how they managed it. Corrado hardly tolerated his own sister from a distance. Katrina continued spending all of her time with Mrs. DeMarco, her looks of hatred at the dinner table now rationed between them.

A month after arriving in North Carolina, Corrado stood at the window in the living room, staring out into the back yard, when Celia grabbed an old, worn baseball glove from an outside toy box and put it on. Vincent picked up the baseball, winding his arm dramatically, before hurling the ball at his sister. Celia ducked, the glove straight in the air, as the ball whizzed past her in the yard. Silent laughter twisted her features as sunshine poured down upon her. It was a cloudless day, mild for summer, but Celia's cheeks were flushed, her long, loose hair rustling in a breeze.

Without even realizing it, Corrado found himself smiling, unable to drag his eyes away from her. The two passed the ball back and forth, Celia tossing it to Vincent underhanded, while Vincent launched it back erratically.

"Pathetic."

The low hiss came from across the room. Corrado's eyes shifted slightly, catching sight of Katrina's reflection in the grimy window.

"You're not good enough for them," Katrina said, stepping closer. "They'd never even look at you if they weren't stuck in this place, too."

Corrado's smile melted away.

"Nobody likes you," she continued. "You're nothing to them."

Looking away from his sister, his focus shifted back to Celia as she picked up the ball. She brushed her hair over her shoulder after tossing the ball to Vincent, her eyes drifting to the window. They connected with Corrado's, and she smiled warmly, waving the glove at him. Something tightened in Corrado's chest. Distracted, Vincent abandoned the game and wandered through the yard.

Wordlessly, Corrado stepped out the back door, shutting it behind him. Celia heard the click and glanced his way as he picked up the baseball, clutching it in his hand. He gazed at the dirty ball, seeing the messy signature in blue ink.
Autographed
.

"Ernie Banks," Celia said. "Best Chicago Cub to ever play the game. That was his five hundredth home run."

"You didn't catch it."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're not very good."

Celia laughed at his bluntness. "Do you play?"

"No," he said, looking from the ball to her. "Not anymore."

"Why?"