The Secret (Book 1 of the Secret Series)

Chapter 8.

KATARA

THREE WEEKS LATER

I sat on my bed quietly drawing. It was something random, something I hadn't thought about in years, but it had been a good memory. A memory after our family had died. It was when I saw Corrie for the first time.

It was stormy that day. It was windy and I was stuck in traffic on the way home from school. I was waiting to get out, while there were honking horns and annoyed shouts. I wanted to get out just as much as they did. I was getting annoyed myself, from all the inpatients, so I turned on some music and turned it up loud. That got me looks from everyone. Looks of disgust. I smiled. I loved making people mad.

I looked around as I sat there and waited and saw someone that I had never seen before. He was tall, blond, muscular, and hot. He had his back to me, but he would look back at me, then turn back to his friends. The thing was, he had to have been new, because I knew everyone here. Every face, not every name, but every face and his was one that I had never seen before.

He had short blond hair, and when he looked back at me, I saw the dark green eyes. He was tall, and I mean tall. From the distance between us, he looked like he was six foot. He had a build that you didn't see on many guys, not at this school. Those guys were all wimps. This guy was probably two times the size of the biggest guy here. He was tan and even from the distance, I could see a paler line, a scar that ran from the side of his neck, to the top of his shirt. That made me wonder how he'd been accepted. Probably because of his build.

There were a few of us here, "freaks", "Losers", and more, that had those markings. We were the outcast, because it meant something bad happened, yet, he was accepted. It made me wonder what had happened, because there was no way that the kid had gotten that at football practice. It looked more like a fight. A fight that he must have won, because he was standing there, alive and staring at me like I was a freak.

No doubt, he had already heard the story of my life that I had chosen to go with. It was a horrible one, but I had chosen it, because it kept people away from me. It kept people around me safe. It was one of those stories that were a motivation to give me up if someone else was in danger. That was what I would want anyway, but I didn't plan on being here that much longer.

The story was that I'd been a suspect for a murder investigation. A murder that they were still investigating in another state. The sheriff was helping with that one, because he understood my situation. Another story that was going around was that I was a runaway (which technically I was) that had done some time in a juvenile facility. And the list went on and on, with stories about me. I'd been rapped. I was a lunatic. I was in the crazy house. There were hundreds of stories out there.

But none of them knew the true story.

The story that my parents and brother were dead. The story that I was living with my brothers best friend. The story that I wasn't really as tough as I play it, because really I was still torn apart about my family. That list goes on and on as well, but I could never tell anyone. It hurt that much.

"Come on freak, move out the way!" someone behind me honked their horn. This tore me out of thought and I sighed.

I looked at the kid waiting behind me, and then at the new kid. For a second, our eyes met, and I could see a curiosity in them, even from here. One of the kids that was with him, grabbed his arm and the kid turned almost as if he was about to attack. This made me wonder one thing, (Okay, two things). Did he know my brother? And why was he here?

The kids honked behind me again and I clenched my jaw. I looked in the rear view mirror and the kid honked again. Well, I wouldn't figure out who this kid was today, but we had two and a half years left. I would figure it out.