I don’t know about home sweet home, but after nine hours in the car, we’re finally in Fairview. The drive was too long, but at least I got to ride shotgun for the entire drive because my sisters were too hung-over this morning to fight me for it.

It’s probably the combination of exhaustion, anticipation, and a massive bag of sour jelly beans talking, but I’m somehow more excited than nervous to be here. A new town, and a chance for a whole new Reagan—as cheesy as that sounds.

Reece and Reilly start to wake up as the car slows down, from the off-ramp, we merge onto Main Street, the not-so-originally named central street of Fairview. Trying to stretch their legs, someone kicks the back of my seat. Before I can say anything, an impressive looking brick church catches my eye. Next to it is a tiny bungalow that's been painted a bright shade of purple, and beside that there’s an ice cream shop, which looks like it’s been in the same spot for around fifty years, complete with a chalkboard sidewalk sign advertising their newest flavor, Midsummer Ice Cream. This place looks more like a movie set than a real town, like a single gust of wind could knock the church over to reveal a structure made from cardboard.

We’re really here. Back in Fairview.

The four of us are dead silent as we take in the rows of mismatched shop fronts and mid-afternoon shoppers. Even Mom, who’s been here twice already in the last month, seems a little awestruck by the town where she grew up, as the sun shines through a cloudless sky above us.

Fairview is the kind of place you’d see on scenic postcards, not a place where people actually live. But we will. Even though it may as well be a million miles away from the city where we’ve spent most of our lives so far.

Reilly’s face reflects in the rearview mirror, her expression purposefully neutral. I don’t have to see Reece to imagine the scowl smeared across her face; she will not be won over by small-town charm today. But while I’d never say it out loud to either of them, I have a good feeling about this place.

"Ready?" Mom asks, turning the car onto our street, Oakridge Boulevard.

I force away a smile, because as far as my family knows, I’m still pissed about having to move in the middle of summer vacation with almost no warning. My sisters are all angry, so everyone assumes I am too. And really, siding with my sisters is easier. Even if I don’t say anything at all, everyone will just assume I agree with them.

In the past couple weeks, things have been less tense. There were no more screaming matches about forcing someone to move against our will. The move was coming, no matter how many people still thought it was a bad idea. Rhiannon still refuses to talk to Mom, but everyone else at least mostly moved on. For a while. Once the reality of our move sunk in, everything came right back up to the surface on moving day.

"We’re looking for number one-fifty-one," Mom says as though we haven’t all spent the last month staring at this house on Google Maps.

The street is ridiculously long due to a mixture of large front yards and the winds and bends of the road. We’re going to be living right at the end of the cul-de-sac, just before a narrow pathway that cuts between houses as a shortcut to the park.

As the gray house we’re about to live in comes into view, so does a boxy, white news van.

We’re still a dozen houses away, but it’s impossible to miss—and something I definitely didn’t expect. All at once, I’m not that excited.

I wasn’t supposed to have to talk to actual people I'm not related to today, let alone put on my publicity face. My heart races as a million possible scenarios spin through my head, they could ask me anything, and I might say something to make myself seem like an idiot.

"Looks like we’ve got company," Mom says, slowing down the car.

My body slumps down in the passenger’s seat. I’m trying to hide even though we haven’t been spotted yet.

"Seriously?" Reece snaps from the back. She only got about two hours of sleep the night before, and I don’t imagine she’s in the mood for surprises, even if there is a photographer involved.

"Mom," Reilly adds, a trace of a whine in her voice. "What are they doing here?"

"I’m sorry," Mom’s eyes dart around nervously, looking for a way around being spotted. "I had no idea they’d be here. I don’t even know how they knew we’d be here." She pulls the car over to the side of the road, hiding us behind a minivan.

I inhale slowly, willing myself to stay calm. It’s not like we haven’t dealt with the media before, but it’s been years since anyone has really cared about the ‘Fairview Four.’ It’s what they called my sisters and I after we were born—four identical baby girls born in a small town. When we were little, there were a couple of news features about us, as well as a half-hour documentary for some silly reality TV channel. Most people didn’t care about the random identical babies at all, but there were also enough people cared way too much.

At least, by the time we were old enough to search for ourselves online, there was almost no one left who made a big deal about the anomaly of our birth.

Groaning, I bang my head back against the headrest. I want to be in my new room, in my new bed, organizing my bookshelves. I really just want to be anywhere but here, about to have to answer pointless questions about myself and how it feels to be back after all these years.

"They can’t see us like this!" Reece shrieks, probably realizing that it’s been almost a full day since she’s even thought about applying lip gloss. "We look like we’ve been living under a bridge."

I didn’t even think of that, now it’s one more thing to worry about. We’ve been sitting in this car for hours, and we probably smell like it. Plus, I’m still wearing pajama pants. This is not exactly the first impression I was hoping to make.

"All right," Mom says after a minute, starting up the car’s engine again and simultaneously cutting off the whining in the back seat. "I’ve got a plan." Without saying anything else, she turns into the closest driveway, backs out, and takes the car back down Oakridge the way we came.

"Is the plan ‘go back to Richmond’?" Reece asks, still sounding like she could use more sleep. "Because that’s something I can get behind."

Mom backs up the car, and all at once, the tension in the car evaporates as we sneak back off the street, we’re all on the same team again.

"That’s a no. But at the very least you get some time to stretch your legs, eat, and get changed. If the Gazette is this eager to document our moving day, I expect they’ll be willing to wait a little longer."

"Why do they even care about this?" I ask.

"People in Fairview loved being part of your story when you were little. I’m sure they’re just excited you’re back," Mom says.

"So, a slow news day, basically," Reilly says.

"Slow news day," Mom agrees. The sleeve of her sweatshirt slips back down to her wrist as she makes a turn, and only then do I realize that she looks as frazzled as the rest of us. When she got in the car this morning she was stone-faced and unwavering to everyone’s complaints, but it looks like the long ride has taken a toll on her too. Or maybe the welcoming committee.

She probably doesn’t want them to see her like this any more than we do. Her hair is normally stylishly bobbed and obviously dyed, with thick blond and red streaks line her brown hair. By it’s current disheveled state, I doubt she even thought to run a brush through it before we left Richmond this morning.

We park at the first fast food joint we find, a local mom-and-pop-style diner called Lizzie’s, immediately we go in to find food and spruce ourselves up. We have enough stuff with us for when we get settled. Each of us had a backpack of clothing, long enough to last until we unpack the rest of our stuff.

Reilly and Reece take half an hour to put on makeup, forcing their hair into identical messy buns. While their hair looks deliberate and styled, mine looks more like a tangle of brown hair that’s sitting lopsided on top of my head.

"How do I look?" I ask, half joking.

Reece makes eye contact with me in the bathroom mirror, grimacing sympathetically. "Here," she says and turns toward me.

She takes only two minutes to transform my pathetic excuse for a hairstyle into a bun, one that looks exactly like hers and Reilly’s. Without taking her eyes off me, she sticks her hand out behind her to Reilly, snatching frantically until she hands over the lip gloss to Reece. Within minutes, we all look like carbon copies of each other—which really doesn’t take that much work. Anyone who doesn’t know us will see three identical girls with long, brown hair, light-brown eyes, and slightly upturned noses. Somewhere on the road behind us is number four.

Reece, Reilly, and I aren’t a complete set. Not without Rhiannon.

A few minutes later, we leave the bathroom to find Mom sitting with the food she ordered for us. We sit down around a pale-blue diner table and start to eat, it doesn’t take long to realize that everyone else has noticed us. I focus all my energy on not looking anywhere beyond our table. I’m pretty sure ninety percent of the people here are just sitting and watching us eat, I try to avoid making eye contact with anyone beyond our little circle. They know who we are.

"We should call Rhi and give her a heads-up," Reece says with an exaggerated smile. She’s seen our audience as well, clearly enjoying the attention way more than I am.

Mom pauses for a moment before fishing her phone out of the purse she had tucked between her and Reilly. "Hi, baby," she says so softly that she hardly sounds like my mother. "I just wanted to let you—"

When she pauses, I already know what happened. Rhiannon handed the phone over to Dad as soon as she heard Mom’s voice.

"Hi," she says finally, her voice back to normal. "Yeah. It’s fine. How far out are you? I just wanted to give you guys a warning about a news van in front of the house. I imagine they want to do a feature…"

While the two of them talk, I pick abandoned fries off everyone else’s plates. When Mom hangs up, she looks defeated.

"Did Dad have any advice about dealing with the media?" Reilly asks, forcing a smile.

It’s enough to force a genuine laugh out of all of us, giving our group an excuse not to talk about the cloud hanging over our mother. Even now, a month after having been told that we were moving back to Fairview, she’s still taking Rhiannon’s reaction hard. Mom loves being the good guy, the superstar, but this move didn’t win her a lot of points.

For the first few days, we were all too angry to talk to either of our parents, it took less than a week before we were talking to Dad again. One by one at Reilly’s urging, we all caved and started talking to Mom again too—grudgingly, in Reece’s case. Rhiannon is still just as pissed off at her as she was a month ago.

She hasn’t exactly been fun to live with. No one even put up a fight when she said she wanted to ride with Dad in the truck, because that meant none of us would have to deal with her for nine blissful hours.

Fed, dressed, and feeling at least a little more in control, we pile back into the car without complaint. I still don’t want to go through whatever is waiting for us, but I suspect I won’t have to do too much. Reece and Reilly have never had trouble dealing with the spotlight. All I’ll have to do is stand there and be a part of the set.

The crew see us as we pull into the driveway. Two men, one holding a bulky camera, and a woman wave frantically, as if maybe we didn't see them lying in wait. This is probably the entire staff of the small, local newspaper.

For a moment, I let myself forget them. We’re here. A house three times bigger than the one we used to live in is sitting right in front of me, complete with dusty, blue paneling and a wraparound porch. It looks slightly crooked, but in a way, that makes it special instead of creepy. It’s even prettier than the pictures we’ve seen.

For the first time, I can really imagine us living here. Once we get rid of our uninvited guests, that is.

"Ten minutes, a few smiles, and they’ll get out of our hair," Mom says, bringing me back to the current predicament.

It’s only once I’m out of the car that I realize there’s a fourth member of the news group, someone I didn’t spot before. Sitting cross-legged on our lawn, hunched over a composition book, is the slightly gangly form of a teenaged guy. There’s a guy on my lawn! Okay, I’m definitely glad we stopped to get changed before showing up here, but his unexpected presence only increases the anxious static forming in my mind.

Whoever he is, he’s completely absorbed in whatever he’s scribbling down into his notebook, letting me stare for a moment too long. He looks tall with long, brown legs sticking out from a pair of old board shorts. Brown hair sits almost straight up with a few streaks of lime green visible from the back. It’s hard not to wonder what he looks like from the front, even if part of me is even more nervous because there’s someone my own age here now too, ready to welcome and judge the Fairview Four.

Look up...look up...look up, my mind chants at him as my eyes continue to bore into the top of his head. He doesn’t look up; I’m not sure he even noticed when we pulled in.

Reilly tugs at my wrist, pulling me away from the guy and toward the three waiting adults who have noticed us. "Reagan, come on." She tilts her head sympathetically like she thinks I’m lagging, trying to avoid making small talk and getting my picture taken.

Mom waves us over from the front porch where she’s standing with a perfectly coiffed blond woman in a dark-green suit.

We stop beside Reece on the stone walkway that leads up to the house. "And this is Reilly and Reagan. Girls, this is Mindy Harris with the Fairview Gazette."

"It’s so nice to meet you both," Mindy says, her eyes only meeting mine for a second before they dart past us and back to the car. It’s easy to see exactly what—who—she’s looking for. "We seem to be one short." Mindy scrunches her lips together as she takes us in.

One, two, three. Not the four she was hoping for. I’d like to point out that we’re actually two short, since my dad isn’t here either, but like always, I keep my mouth shut.

"Rhiannon made the drive up in our moving truck with the girls’ father," Mom says like she’s apologizing. She has nothing to apologize for, especially not to this woman who gave us no warning she’d be here. "We didn’t quite expect this today."

"Of course, of course! No trouble at all, Elaine." Mindy smiles, showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. "Will they be arriving soon?"

"Unfortunately, no. They’re at least two hours behind us. We’d be happy to sit down with you tomorrow though, once the girls have had a little time to settle in."

I almost laugh at the comment. We moved out of the city, to an entirely new state, and it’s only going to take us one afternoon to get settled in? Yeah, okay.

"If there’s really no way to get Rhiannon here, I guess that will be fine," Mindy says. "Everyone is so looking forward to seeing the girls together in Fairview again. We did want to do this before the new school year starts."

"When’s that?" Reece asks Mindy.

"September second." Less than two weeks. "Assuming the girls will be going to Fairview High." She can’t be bothered to speak to us directly. Apparently, we’re just supposed to stand here and smile for the cameras. Which isn’t so bad, now that I think about it.

"That's the plan. They’ll be sophomores this year."

"Oh, wonderful. My son Kent is starting his sophomore year too." Mindy claps her hands together once. "He keeps a busy schedule, but I’m sure he’d be happy to show you around!" She beams at the three of us like we should be weeping with gratitude that her darling boy is willing to play tour guide.

Rolling my eyes is tempting—until someone shoulders his way past Mindy and sticks his hand out in front of me.

It’s him. The guy with the green hair. Kent, Mindy’s son. It makes enough sense that I already feel kind of dumb for mocking him in my head. It’s not his fault his mom has ruined my day.

I blink slowly, looking back at him. From the front, he’s even better than I imagined. His eyes are the same warm brown as his skin, they crinkle up a little as he smiles at me.

"Hi," he says, looking down at his hand expectantly. I’m still fixated on the near golden brown of his eyes, and the way they stand out unnaturally bright against the even tan of his skin. "I’m Kent. Welcome to Fairview."

Right! Hand-shaking. Frantically, I grab on to his hand, bouncing it up and down a few times before he moves to Reece and then Reilly.

"Nice to meet you," I mumble.

I don’t think he hears me, but a second later, his eyes lock on mine. For a moment, he just looks at me. I will myself to do something, anything. His eyes almost seem to be teasing me. I can’t help but smile before we both glance away. "Welcome to Fairview," I hear him mumble again. He’s already moved on to shaking Reece’s hand, but there’s something about the way his head still tilts in my direction, clearly suggesting that maybe she doesn’t have his full attention.

After he introduces himself to Reilly, the four of us all hang back as Mindy and my mom keep chatting about everything from the drive, to the move and the weather. No matter how short Mom’s answers are, the questions seem to keep coming. Mindy is obviously hoping that if she holds us here long enough, she’ll be able to wait out Rhiannon. But no one can out stubborn our mom.

The boy—Kent, I silently remind myself—smiles back at me, before getting dragged back into a conversation with his mother. I’m already reliving our entire interaction, trying to point out all of the ways I’ve already embarrassed myself.

But all in all, it wasn’t terrible. We’ve officially met someone our own age in this own. And he’s officially cute.