To Be a Hero | MLB

1: The Beginning

Paris: the city of croissants, culture, and most of all, love.

As with every city I've lived in so far, I've set my hopes high... and like every city so far, my brothers have managed to ruin everything.

"Tori! Tori, look what I have!"

I whirl and see Isaac, my younger brother, holding my cell phone high above his head. And by "high," I mean literally six feet off the ground, just above my eye level.

"Give that back," I growl and start toward him.

Isaac just grins and tosses my phone to Isaiah, my other younger brother. "Catch us if you can!"

I chase them around the cramped family room of our new apartment as they toss my phone back and forth like a football.

An American football, I remind myself. We're international now—I have to be specific.

I try to step over the cardboard box we've been using as a footrest for the past few days, but my other younger brother Ian leaps off the couch and wraps his arms around me, sending us crashing through the box and onto the floor.

Isaiah and Isaac laugh, and I throw Ian off of me. "Okay, guys," I say slowly, rising and taking a step toward them. "I'm going to give you three seconds to give that back—"

"Or what?"

"Or she'll throw a tantrum, and no one wants that." My oldest brother, Jakob, comes in from the kitchen and wrestles my phone out of Isaac's hand. He gives it to me, and I shove it in my pocket. "Now, who's going to clean up this mess?"

"Tori is!" the triplets shout, then run into their shared bedroom and slam the door.

I sigh and crouch down to pick up the mess of pillows and cardboard on the floor. Jakob helps, and we finish in just a few minutes. I slump onto the couch we've owned since I was three and check the time on my phone.

"It's almost six, so... Mom should be home soon, right?"

Jakob nods and sits next to me. "You excited for your first day of French school tomorrow?"

"Don't remind me," I groan. Tomorrow is my first day at Françoise Dupont High School, and I am, in fact, not excited for that. Because attending school means I'll have to juggle schoolwork and taking care of my younger brothers, which I've learned is not an easy task.

We moved into our apartment a week ago, but my mom decided it would be good to give us some time to adjust to the new city before jumping into Parisian life. And in my family, "adjust" just means unpack and argue.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. And hey, you'll even get to practice your French!"

"My French is fine," I reply in French. My dad was born and raised in Paris, and he made sure all of my brothers and I were fluent in French by the time we entered kindergarten. It's only my second language because my mom, a New York native, wanted English as my first.

"Sure it is."

"Well, what are you going to be doing during the day?" Since Jakob's three years older than me, he's already graduated high school. Knowing him, he'll probably be out, spending all his time at historical sites and trying to learn everything he can about the city.

"Oh, you know, just trying to..." His gaze travels to the window behind me, and he springs to his feet. "What was that?"

I turn and look out the window. I don't see anything, but then I squint a little harder and see something hopping along distant rooftops. "Is that... is that a person?"

Jakob and I rush to the window. "I think they're dressed as a... a ladybug?"

Then a second figure joins it, dressed all in black. "And a black cat?"

Jakob and I share a look. "This is weird," he says.

"Definitely," I agree.

I thought Paris would go by in a blur like the rest of the cities we've lived in, but if these crazies on the roof are any indicator...

Things are about to get interesting.