Even after three years in Pandora, Nico doesn’t consider it home. Home is an old brick house full of boys; it’s coming home to the smell of spaghetti, and the sound of people everywhere. Home is being scolded in Spanish, then wrapped in a warm hug to make up for it. Home is cheering on a niece in a hockey game, and being there for the birth of a new one. It’s the big pine tree in the backyard, and breaking his arm for the second time falling out of the tree house in it. It’s memories and family and everything he didn’t have, until he was given it.
And sometimes, he imagines a different home. One he hardly remembers, with Superman sheets on his bed, and a fireplace he had no fear of in the living room. It’s the neighbors down the street who told him they were sorry they couldn’t take him and his sister in, and a living room full of presents on Christmas.










