Violet Butler sits cross legged on her porch, her body resting comfortably on the thick quilt she and her mother stitched together a few years back. The air is humid, hot, and sticky; she inhales, dragging it into her lungs. Her lengthy, dark hair is tied into a ponytail, small wisps of it decorating her neck. Tiny stars glow against the bruised, purple sky, and it captivates her.
She attempts to match her demeanor to her surroundings and ease into peace with the war raging inside of her. It’ll be okay, she determines, consoling herself. Violet’s small family, which consisted of her and her mother, struggles on a daily basis.
"I am the oldest of seven. Do my siblings think I’m super cool? I wish they thought I was super cool! A lot of them are pretty young, so they don’t really get to watch a lot of the television and films that I’ve been in. The older ones, I think, think I’m pretty cool. Not because I’m an actor, because I’m an awesome big sister."
He and Violet are walking to Devins Hallow High the next day, commencing the school ritual after a long, blistering summer. They’re juniors this year. He’s only too aware that, very soon, they can make good on their pact sealed with stubby pinky fingers and get out of his black tar hell hole. They didn’t want to be their glued-in parents, and small town glory had never suited either of them. Walker imagines Violet somewhere trendy and upbeat like New York City, Chicago, or Seattle - and he imagines himself as anywhere but here. She’s his best friend; she has to drag him along, right? He looks over at her. She smiles, and he’s sure that she will. - CHAPTER ONE, THUNDERSTORMS AND SPILLED MILK.