I’m the first born child of my parents.

Well, not exactly, seeing as my parents are two lesbians who chose to adopt rather than have a child that was only half theirs. That was how I found myself as the eldest not-really child of Raven and Lily Miracle-Paek.

My little sister was named Rosaline Diane Miracle-Paek. We called her Rosie. She resembled our mama, Lily, in an oddly specific way with her wavy light brown hair and her just barely tanned skin. The only real difference was that Rosie’s eyes were a bright blue instead of a warm, golden brown.

Our baby brother was named Benjamin Dylan Miracle-Paek. We called him Ben. He didn’t really look like either of our mothers. His hair was dark brown and curly, his skin was darker than any of ours, and his eyes were a near-black brown.

If I had to choose, I’d say I looked the most like my mom, Raven, with my black hair, pale skin, and dark brown eyes.

Oh, right.

My name is Amaryllis Callista Miracle-Paek. My family called me Lissie. I didn’t really like the nickname, but I was kinda stuck with it. In the end, though, I only let my family call me that. I lashed out at anyone who called me that without my explicit permission.

My cousins, Elias Ryan Auclair and Sunshine Lily Auclair (whom we called Sunny), were the son and daughter of my mother’s sister and my mom’s best friend.

Elias was just barely younger than me and Sunny was Ben’s age. I loved her name because it was the total opposite of who she was.

In reality, she was quiet and cranky, and I could already see her blossoming into a moody, gothic teenager.

The five of us grew up together, running around the pediatric office and going to a million high school band concerts. 

It was almost ironic how small our world seemed to be, what with their dad and our mom working together, and their mom and our mother working together. Naturally, we all learned how to play instruments and do some basic first aid.

We all had distinct personalities, yet got along like the best of friends.

Seeing as Sunny was the designated moody teenager (even though she had yet to reach the double digits), her older brother acted as ‘the man’ of the group, protecting us.

My sister, Rosie, was the real sunshine in our lives, canceled out by the logical reasoning of Ben, who only ever talked to us or our moms.

I was the final link in the chain, keeping us together with pessimistic sarcasm even as I took care of everyone. I like to think that I’m what really holds us together.

And then there was Uncle Dylan.

Uncle Dylan was the younger brother of our mom. He would stop by often to take care of all five of us, and told us all sorts of stories.

My favorites were always the ones about how our mom was like back when she was in high school and such. Of course, he censored a lot of the fun stuff because of our ages, but it was only natural.

He got married when I was seven years old.

She was an incredibly beautiful Indian woman who was a year older than Uncle Dylan. Her name was Pihu, and she and Uncle Dylan met when he was visiting my mom at the high school. She was another teacher at the high school, an advanced freshman math teacher.

But as happy as everyone in my family was—as amazing as life sounded, everything turned on its head when I entered into the high school my mom worked at.

As a freshman who had not one but two relatives that worked there, it was impossible for my name not to be known. I tried my hardest not to stand out—I avoided the music system, sports system, and any other program that might draw any sort of attention to me.

I only lasted so long, though, before my mom managed to drag me into the marching band. It didn’t take much effort seeing as I was already forced to stay after school and linger around the band practices because my mom was the only ride I had.

It wasn’t as horrible as I made it out to seem, especially when I had friends.

There was this one boy, Zephyr, and this girl in the band, Kamila, and they became my main friends.

Unfortunately for me, the three of us ended up being the trio of literal destruction because the history of our families collided in all the worst ways.

It started when I was looking for my biological parents, but then things began to go astray, proving that the world really was small… and most definitely out to get me.

I was getting people hurt, I was getting hurt, and it all begged the question:

Was learning it all worth the ruin it brought?