Proven

Chapter One

Chapter 1

My tongue always seems to love sliding all my secrets right out into the open air. It's not my favorite quality. Because if I didn't have it I probably wouldn't have a tendency to get stuck in these situations.

I fidget uncomfortably, instinctively running my finger up and down the golden seam if my jeans. There's a hole in the knee, and whenever I rub it, my hand shoots tingles up my arm.

"Cara Gibbons," Mr. Jenkins says my name so foul that I shrink into the hard wooden chair. Just by looking at him I can predict his next words. I'm painfully correct. "I expected more of you. A transfer student, straight A's, three previous internships. We chose you over so many others and now...look at you."

I duck my head and my shoulders squeeze together. He and so many other adults possess the ability to intimidate teens who aren't used to getting in trouble. I want to tell him who set me to it, why I did it, why I ever came here in the first place. But instead I stick to something simple, something that has almost nothing to do with our conversation topic.

"Nice tie, sir," I nod at his black and white spotted tie.

He squares his unshaven jaw and fiddles with his tie for a second before ripping it off of his flabby neck.

"Are you trying to flatter me, Ms. Gibbons?" Mr. Jenkins frowns, opening a drawer in his desk. He drops the tie in and slams the drawer closed. A small, golden trophy labeled "1985 Little League Baseball, Larry Jenkins, The Diggers, 2nd Place State" teetered on the edge if the desk. The cheap figurine of a boy in midswing on top of it seems to cry out for help.

And that's that. I can't help it. No matter how horrible Mr. Jenkins has been to me, I see the look in his green eyes. He's panicking, I can tell because of the way he wrings his hands so hard they turn white. Frowning, I tip the trophy upside right before it has the chance to fall off.

"May I be dismissed?" I place my hands on the arm rests of the chair and lean forward.

He's uneasy about letting me go after finding out about me. I can't explain how I do, but I know it as a fact.

"Only if," he pauses, then reaches behind him. "If you keep a journal of all these...secrets of yours and turn it into me every Friday."

"Yes, sir," I snatch a little brown notebook off the desk and walk out sullenly. He doesn't understand, nobody does. Across the hallway is the library. I always go there when I'm down. My feet reluctantly shuffle across the rough gray carpet. My knees lock while I grab the door handle and quietly open the neon orange door into the library. The hundreds of rows of mahogany book cases takes my mind off if my dilemma. But only for a second.

"Ms. Limm," I spot the young librarian reshelving books two rows away from me. She looks up, revealing her startlingly green eyes. I adore her, she's beautiful. If she wasn't stuck here at this stupid school to hide away in the books while people make fun of her for it, she'd be a super model. There's no doubt in my mind.

She pales and drops the book she's holding when she sees me. It opens up to page 415, and for just a second, I read a sentence. "Under the green stone in the middle of winter, you'll find it," it says. Keeping one eye on me, Ms. Limm bends down and hurriedly shoves it in between two other books. The spine faces the wrong way. She's afraid of me because she knows.

"Look, I can't-won't listen if you don't want me to," I duck my head and start towards the back of the library. There are two tables back there that I always sit at.

"Hey, Cara," Ms.Limm barely whispers my name. I pivot to look back at her and see a whole new person standing there. "I have the same secret."

My heart catches in my throat. If she's telling the truth we're both in a lot of danger. And that could make me dead really, really fast.