Michael wiped the sleep from his eyes, shuffling through the kitchen as the first glimpse of sunlight set the room aglow in soft orange and red. His long secondhand pajama pants dragged under his feet, and he yawned and stretched in front of the refrigerator. The tackiness of his mouth smacked as he licked his dry lips. It was too early for him to be up, but he was so thirsty he couldn’t keep laying in bed hoping to fall back asleep.

  He pulled open the refrigerator door and stared inside as if a glass of water would appear without a second thought. After a slow, sleepy blink, he grabbed the cup of milk sitting front and center. He stared at the white liquid and then glanced back over his shoulder. No one was awake and no one would know the wiser. Sucking in a breath and focusing on his hands, a gold glow flowed from his wrist to his fingers and engulfed the cup. The milk churned and jostled and turned clear. Bubbles danced and the sweet smell of soda tickled his nose. Michael smiled, his shoulders sagging from the effort.

  To use the ability of miracles came at a price. It was tiring, and some warned it shortened his life. He didn’t believe them. No one had ever died from changing a cup of milk into a soda. Michael turned, kicking the refrigerator shut, and sipped on the drink. People worried too much about everything. Not him, though. He was happy with his life. It was quiet and easy and nothing had ever once gone wrong. He was taken care of and he had the best big brother in the whole world. Milo never missed a single hug, drawing, or game Michael wanted to play.

  Sitting down on the floor by the cabinets, he pulled one open and fished around inside for the box of cookies he had hidden toward the back a few days earlier. If he was going to have a drink, it only made sense to settle the rumbling in his stomach, too. As he leaned farther in, footsteps padded down the hall and the kitchen door creaked. Michael sat back and turned around. Milo snatched a pastry from the bread box and stuck it in his mouth, then crammed his pockets full of fat tomatoes, a banana, and a few sticks of dried jerky from the jar on the counter. Shrugging his jacket higher on his shoulders, he glanced back at the hallway. No one was there. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Michael stared at him for a long moment before slapping the cabinet shut. Milo jumped back, hissing out a curse and clutching his chest.

  “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in bed!” He crouched down beside his little brother.

  “Where are you going?” Michael searched his face as worry filled his own.

  “Out.” Milo pressed his lips into a line. He wanted to tell him but knew it was a sure way for his parents to find out, and they’d be livid. He’d hidden his training for eight months, making excuses for turning up late and all his extra studying. And it wasn’t that he was lying, he just was omitting certain details. Most of the time, he was with Kelsey and Lukas, but if his parents found out that they were preparing to join the militia by training and studying for entrance exams, they’d never let Milo see them again. And if he couldn’t see them, his cover was as good as gone. “I’m meeting up for an early study session. Finals are coming and you know how mom worries about our grades, right Mikey?”

  Michael frowned. He hated when Milo called him ‘Mikey’, and he only did it when he had something to hide. It was a bad habit, and he noticed he did it with everyone. Kelsey became Kels, and Lukas became Lu. Even the neighbor, Brendan Filch became Bran as soon as Milo had a secret to keep. “Where are you really going?”

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  He cringed, easing back to his heels. “I can’t tell you.”

  “I can keep a secret.”

  “You’ve never kept a single secret, ever.” Milo glared at him. “You remember when we went to grandma’s, and she took us shopping to get Mom and Dad presents for the holiday?”

  “Yeah, you got Mom a really pretty necklace! And grandma let me get that funny twirly hat for Dad.”

  “And then you told them as soon as they came to pick us up.”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  Milo chewed on the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t bring himself to lie, and Michael would worry about him twice as much if he had to cover for him. “I have training. Every morning. Makler’s strict about it, but Sergeant Hart is even worse if I’m late.”

  “Makler?” Michael scrunched his nose. He’d heard of him before and their father made no effort to hide his personal disdain for his presence and the work he was putting into the militia. It made him wary of what was coming and more vocal than usual with every new shortage steadily choking the town. “Are you part of the—”

  “Resistance,” Milo supplied, turning his eyes to the floor and picking at the fabric of his pants. “If I pass the exams at the end of the month, I’ll start as an officer in the militia, under Resistance command.”

  “How? I thought you had to be sixteen to join.” Michael scooted closer. “Mom’s going to be really mad, Milo.”

  “Mom’s not going to know.” His green eyes flashed a wicked, unspoken threat. The fractals of gold sparkled in his darkened leer.

  Michael nodded and dropped his head. If there was one thing he knew above all else, was that Milo kept his promises. And if that promise was to string him up by his shoelaces for being a tattle-tale, wearing nothing but socks wouldn’t be enough to save him. Milo breathed out, set a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and gave a soft squeeze of thanks. Michael looked up, sadness covering his face. “What if you have to fight the Razen? Dad said they’re really close.”

  “Then I’ll protect you from them, no matter what.” Milo smiled, as confident as he could.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. No matter what, I will protect you from the Razen. They won’t hurt you.”

  Michael nodded, tears welling and a smile fighting to take over from his downtrodden frown. He launched forward, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face against him. It was one thing knowing their dad kept a gun around in case the worst happened, but it was another to have Milo watching over him. Milo was braver than anyone else, and the way he used his ability was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He was able to make incredible things happen, and as far as Michael was concerned, his brother had the greatest ability of them all. He created the best miracles. And he hoped one day he would be even half as good as his brother. Maybe he could even use his ability to change their fates, too.

  Milo pulled back and ruffled his brother’s wavy, dark auburn hair. “You should get back to bed. And stop eating all the cookies.”

  “I was hungry!”

  “You’re going to get a stomachache for that sugar.” Milo chuckled as he rose to his feet and dusted off. It was getting late and the last thing he wanted was to earn extra laps and have Sergeant Hart annoyed with him all morning for keeping her waiting. “Anyway, I’ll see you at the diner after school. And remember, no telling.”

  “It’s a secret.” Michael beamed, delighted his brother, at last, trusted him. This time, he wouldn’t mess up. He wouldn’t tell anyone even if they tickled him so hard he puked, or offered him a thousand of his favorite treats.

  “Good.” Milo nodded, hoping with all his heart his brother would keep his mouth shut. He turned away and headed for the door. His fate was in Michael’s hands, and if he screwed up, Milo was as good as dead.