There are probably worse ways to spend a summer than to serve as governess to a rich man’s children, even when they’re the kind of children who spontaneously burst into flames when they get upset. For Lillian, who is living the underachiever’s trifecta of being talented, poor, and miserable, this is certainly the case. Her high school roommate Madison has married a United States senator, and she is in need of someone to take care of the senator’s two children from a previous marriage. She offers Lillian the job, and Lillian, having spent enough time in rock bottom as she has, puts up only a token resistance before transplanting herself and her entire life into the senator’s mansion—more accurately, into the small guest house behind the mansion—to play nanny to firestarting twins Bessie and Roland.

The plot of Nothing to See Here is formulaic. The kids are wary of their new guardian. Lillian slowly wins their trust and respect through patience and acts of kindness. A tragedy threatens to separate the children from their newfound parental figure. In the end, love probably saves the day. It is the plot of virtually every foster-parent story ever told, and by itself, it is hardly engaging.

Like with many good books, however, it’s the execution that elevates Nothing to See Here beyond what could have been a forgettable novel. There are only a handful of characters in the book, but they are all characterized well, and they all speak with their own distinct voices. Kevin Wilson does not get overly detailed with describing his characters and their actions, but manages to sketch out very colorful and believable personalities with relatively few words. Lillian herself stands out with a snarky-yet-sincere inner monologue that strikes the sweet spot of being funny without trying too hard. The family’s cook Mary is also worth mentioning: stoic, highly capable, and hilarious in her unflappability.

It’s ironic that perhaps the least fleshed-out characters are the twins themselves. Beyond having abandonment issues and basically being freaks of nature, there’s not much to say. This is in stark contrast to Madison’s own son Timothy, whose eccentricity manages to be equal parts pathetic, creepy, and endearing.

Maybe the author’s reason for Bessie and Roland’s weak characterizations is because they are in the story to embody a very specific archetype: the unwanted children. This is where the novel’s elevator pitch comes in. It’s about kids! Bursting into flames! Spontaneously! They could have been unwanted because of a horrible disfigurement, or a disease, or some other kind of abnormality, but it is here where Kevin Wilson probably threw up his hands and decided to go all the way: they are unwanted because their bodies ignite when they get too emotional. All this, and in a world where Charles Xavier’s School for the Gifted doesn’t exist.

It’s a very effective plot device, and it does lend a certain unpredictability to the story. The novel’s matter-of-fact treatment of this very unexplainable phenomenon serves to amp up the weirdness and keeps the plot engaging in spite of its familiarity. While the human combustion angle takes up significantly less space in the overall story that one might initially expect, it is a great hook that asserts itself at key points in the novel. Ultimately though, it’s the characters that will keep readers engaged until the book’s final moments, where the pace quickens to a slightly rushed finale.

Nothing to See Here is a familiar but well-written tale with an oddball twist out of left field. Readers will most likely come for the combusting children, but they will stay for the memorable characters and the excellent prose.