The Spirit Seducer

Chapter 1

"You don't look happy," Layla said from my bedroom's doorway. My best friend since we were ten, Layla was my opposite. She was tall, thin, and blonde. Poised, perfect. "Happy birthday, by the way."

The morning started poorly. I wanted to move out and get away from my mom's overprotectiveness and countless rules. I'd finally told Mom my plan.

The resulting scene was epic-level Ruiz. From bustlines to breakups, the ladies of familia Ruiz kicked some serious culo. All of them except me.

"Hey." I smiled, cheered by Layla's presence. "Thanks. Mom and I got into it earlier. I hate upsetting her."

Layla's return smile didn't reach her eyes, which were darker and more serious than usual.

"Your mom's looking out for you, Echo." She fiddled with the hem of her cute tunic dress.

"Seriously?" Tension crawled up my spine, settling into my shoulders. "It's not natural to be homeschooled like I was. You know that. I know that, and I was the one homeschooled."

Layla's thin brows pulled low before she shifted her gaze over my shoulder. "At least you got to miss out on all those awkward high school experiences. Believe me, E, there were many days I would've traded places with you."

I rubbed my temple. "Only because you didn't live it. I never even set foot on a college campus, thanks to the impersonal joy of Internet classrooms."

"What's the problem?"

"Besides the fact I was compelled to study Native American culture, even though I've never met any Native Americans?"

"You know them," Layla said, waving her hand with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "And you have two degrees. Before the age of twenty-one. That's impressive."

"The only reason I was able to work so quickly through my bachelor's and master's programs was because there's nothing else to do when you're pretty much housebound."

"You're the one who chooses to stay here. It's not like you can't leave."

I snorted. "Sure. It's that simple."

"I didn't say it was easy. There are good reasons for you to still be at home."

As my aunt Lupita liked to say, I lived la vida jodida—or, to clarify with a little less bad language, I was the ugly duckling who hadn't fledged into anything that remotely resembled a swan.

The doorbell rang, cutting Layla off. I gave her the bright smile I usually saved for my family. It was more fake than the maple syrup my aunt Juana brought over for our French toast brunches.

"That'll be the aunties. It's going to have to be later, 'kay?"

"No, it really can't wait," Layla said. I ignored her and rushed out of my room.

Opening the door, I was immediately surrounded by a flock of clucking females. They piled into the tiny entryway, talking in a loud mix of Spanish and English, making my head pound, just like always.

"Are you sure you're twenty-one?" Carolina asked. "I swear, Echo, you don't age at all. I'd kill for your skin."

"So I'm told." I shrugged. "You look pretty good yourself, Tía."

Carolina fidgeted, glancing away. I was used to her reaction. Most people struggled to look me in the eye. I shared the color with my mother—a shiny, new-penny copper tone. Our eyes were too bright, too unusual not to elicit a strong reaction.

Unnatural, I'd heard people whisper more than once. I preferred to consider us one of a kind. Out of deference to my auntie's discomfort, I dropped my gaze to my feet, pretending to have an interest in my hot-pink nail polish.