12/29 2:00 p.m.

My cab pulls up outside a nondescript suburban house with tan siding in Adnerba, Ohio and I tug my bag with notebooks and pens after me, swinging it over my shoulder. You’re Annya Quintero, you can do this. So what if this is the first interview you’ve done where your name is connected to it? You’ve got this! Shivering against the winter blast, I start up the front walk, passing a hulking man with auburn hair and amber eyes. I smile at him, readying to see if he knows where Camille is, but the glower he gives me makes me rethink the idea.

When I ring the doorbell the front door swings open and a petite girl with brilliant gray eyes stands smiling up at me. “You must be Annya! Come in, Mom is back in the kitchen. You’re interviewing her first, then my boyfriend Eric, and…