I cracked the door open.
Three men stood on the porch.
The one in front was tall, lean, and sharp-looking, with a long scar tracing the side of his face. Behind him stood a broad man with a cigarette barely hanging on between his lips, and next to him, a shorter guy with slicked-back hair and a grin Juniper instantly hated.
"You Juniper?" Scarface asked. His voice was quiet, but something about it cut deep.
Juniper stepped outside and closed the door behind her, making sure Luna and Luner stayed inside. "Who are you?"
"We're friends of your folks," the broad one said, exhaling smoke through his nose. "They owe us money. Lots of it. And guess what? They're gone."
The short one grinned wider. "So the debt falls to you, sweetheart."
Juniper's blood turned cold. "I'm thirteen. You can't collect anything from me."
"Your parents skipped out," Scar said, ignoring her protest. "They abandoned their responsibility. That means someone's gotta pay."
His eyes lingered too long on her. Juniper stepped back, trying to hold her ground.
"I'll figure it out," she said. "But I'm not... I'm not paying in the way you're implying."
The short one chuckled. "What, you thought we were asking for that? Well, not yet. But you'd sell quick. Or maybe that twin sister of yours—Luna, right?"
Juniper's heart stopped. "Leave her out of this."
Scarface stepped forward, grabbed her arm. "Then prove it. Be useful. Get a job. Hell, get two."
"I will," Juniper snapped. "Just tell me what you want."
He held her in his gaze for another second. Then released her with a jerk.
"Fine. Meet us behind the old textile mill tomorrow after school. We'll talk then."
He shoved a grimy business card into her hand.
"And Juniper," the short one called as they walked away, "you miss a payment, we stop being nice. And we're not that nice to begin with."
Inside, the kitchen smelled like burnt broth. The soup had bubbled over. Luner apologized quickly, already scraping the black ring off the burner. Luna looked at Juniper carefully.
"You okay?"
Juniper forced a smile. "Just someone selling something. It's fine."
But Luna didn't look convinced.
They ate dinner together. Laughed a little, even. Luner made up a fake TV commercial for "Trash Soup," and Luna snorted soup out of her nose. For a moment, everything felt almost normal.
Juniper clutched the card in her pocket the entire time.
--
The next day dragged.
At school, everything seemed louder—lunch trays clattering, chairs scraping, whispers in the hallway. Juniper couldn't focus. Every tick of the clock pulled her closer to the meeting.
They were all thirteen, but somehow the weight always landed on her shoulders. She didn't understand why, but maybe it was because she was the one who never crumbled. The one who answered the door.
After the last bell, she told Luna and Luner she was staying late for homework help. They didn't question it.
The walk to the textile mill was long. The sun had dipped behind clouds by the time she arrived, casting the broken windows in gray light.
They were already there.
"Good," Scarface said. "You're on time. You've got some brains after all."
Juniper stepped forward. "I said I'd do two jobs. What are they?"
The broad man handed her two wrinkled slips of paper. "Cleaning shift. 10 p.m. to 1 a.m., bar down on 8th Street. Real quiet work. Second job—warehouse sorting. After school. Friend of ours runs it. Doesn't ask questions."
"That's illegal," Juniper said. "I'm thirteen."
"You think we care?"
"You think your parents cared?" the short one added.
Juniper looked down at the paper. The shifts were brutal. No real sleep. No breaks. She didn't even know how she'd manage school, meals, and getting Luna and Luner through the day.
Scarface leaned in close. "We'll cover rent. Utilities too. But you owe us three hundred dollars a month. On time. No excuses. Everything else your on you're own"
Juniper didn't flinch. "I'll pay."
The short one grinned. "Or you'll bleed."
That night, she lay awake staring at the ceiling. Luna was asleep on the mattress across the room, her hand dangling off the edge. Luner snored softly, face buried in a pillow.
They were her age. Her equals. But she couldn't let them carry this weight.
She was the one the sharks came for. She was the one who opened the door.
Juniper turned on her side, heart aching with a strange mixture of fear, rage, and something sharper—something that kept whispering: This isn't fair. But it's yours now.
She whispered into the dark:
"I'll protect you. I swear."