The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

Prologue
     
     
     
    Callie
     
    Life is full of luck, like getting dealt a good hand, or simply by being in the right place at the right time. Some people get luck handed to them, a second chance, a save. It can happen heroically, or by a simple coincidence, but there are those who don’t get luck on a shiny platter, who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, who don’t get saved.
     
    “Callie, are you listening to me?” My mom asks as she parks the car in the driveway.
     
    I don’t answer, watching the leaves twirl in the wind across the yard, the hood of the car, wherever the breeze forces them to go. They have no control over their path in life.  I have a desire to jump out, grab them all, and clutch them in my hand, but that would mean getting out of the car.
     
    “What is wrong with you tonight?” my mom snaps as she checks her phone messages. “Just go in and get your brother.”
     
    I tear my gaze off the leaves and focus on her. “Please don’t make me do this, Mom.” My sweaty hand grips the metal door handle and a massive lump lodges in my throat. “Can’t you just go in and get him?”
     
    “I have no desire to go into a party with a bunch of high school kids and I’m really not in the mood to chat it up with Maci right now, so she can brag about Kayden getting a scholarship,” my mother replies, motioning her manicured hand at me to get a move on. “Now go get your brother and tell him he needs to come home.”
     
    My shoulders hunch as I push the door open and hike up the gravel driveway toward the two-story mansion with green shutters and a steep roof. “Two more days, two more days,” I chant under my breath with my hands clenched into fists as I squeeze between the vehicles. “Only two more days and I’ll be in college and none of this will matter.”
     
    The lights through the windows illuminate against the grey sky and a “Congratulations” banner hangs above the entrance to the porch, decorated with balloons. The Owens always like to put on a show, for any reason they can think of; birthdays, holidays, graduations. They seem like the perfect family but I don’t believe in perfection. 
     
    This party is to celebrate their youngest son Kayden’s graduation and his football scholarship to the University of Wyoming.  I have nothing against the Owens. My family has dinner over at their house occasionally and they attend barbeques at our place. I just don’t like parties, nor have I been welcomed at one, at least since sixth grade.
     
    When I approach the wrap-around porch, Daisy Miller waltzes out with a glass in her hand. Her curly blond hair shines in the porch light as her eyes aim at me and a malicious grin curls at her lips.
     
    I dodge to the right of the stairs and swerve around the side of the house before she can insult me. The sun is lowering below the lines of the mountains that encase the town and stars sparkle across the sky like dragonflies. It’s hard to see once the lights of the front porch fade away and my shoe catches something sharp. I fall down and my palms split open against the gravel. Injuries on the outside are easy to endure and I get up without hesitation.
     
    I dust the pebbles from my hands, wincing from the burn of the scratches as I round the corner into the backyard.
     
    “I don’t give a shit what the hell you were trying to do,” a male voice cuts through the darkness. “You’re such a fuck up. A fucking disappointment.”
     
    I halt by the edge of the grass. Near the back fence is a brick pool house where two figures stand below a dim light. One is taller, with their head hanging low and their broad shoulders are stooped over. The shorter one has a beer gut, a bald spot on the back of his head, and is standing in the other’s face with their fists out in front of them. Squinting through the dark, I make out that the shorter one is Mr. Owens and the taller one is Kayden Owens. The situation is surprising since Kayden is very confident at school and has never been much of a target for violence.
     
    “I’m sorry,” Kayden mutters with a tremor in his voice as he hugs his hand against his chest. “It was an accident, sir. I won’t do it again.”
     
    I glance at the open back door where the lights are on, the music is loud, and people are dancing, shouting, laughing. Glasses clink together and I can feel the sexual tension bottled in the room from all the way out here. These are the kinds of places I avoid