The Worst Thief (An Academy Ghost Bird Fanfiction)

Chapter One: A Bad Thief Always Gets Caught

Disclaimer: I do not own The Academy or the characters.

WARNING: Nonagon-ic relationships between Sang and her nine boys (Owen Blackbourne, Dr. Sean Green, Nathan Griffin, Dakota 'Kota' Lee, Gabriel Coleman, Lucian 'Luke' Taylor, North Taylor, Silas Korba, and Victor Morgan).

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Bad idea- no, WORST idea ever. I would admit that I hadn't been having the best idea's as of late. It had started with Charleston Collage rejecting my application- and every other school that I had applied to in the States. I hadn't applied for Brown, but that was because I knew that I would have never been able to afford the plane ticket or the tuition. Not that I would have been able to afford collage in Charleston either without four jobs and taken out student loans, but I had been optimistic.

Only, I hadn't expected my father to drop such a bombshell like the one he had given right after my step-mother had been admitted to the hospital in the late stages of cancer. He had left two years before, when he chose his mistress over his real family and moved away, so I was quite shocked to see him walk right into the hospital waiting room that day.

Marie had been off at the vending machine getting herself something to eat, having been sitting with me since the day before. He took the uncomfortable seat next to mine, reaching out towards me for something- I didn't know if he had been reaching to comfort me at the time, but I had flinched away, and he had quickly folded his hands in his lap.

"Sang," He said quietly. Dad paused for a long moment, setting me on edge as he started to fidget with his tie. I had noticed some of the age had receded from his face since the last time I had seen him. He had no more dark circles around his eyes and had stopped showing more gray through his hair. "I need to tell you something," He licked his lips, shifting weight onto his elbow then went back to sitting ram-rod straight in his seat. Dad didn't meet my eyes. "About your mother-"

"She has cancer," It was weak, full of fear and emotions I hadn't outwardly expressed in a very long time.

Dad shook his head, eyes closing. "I should have told you this so long ago." He turned toward me, harsh brown eyes staring me down. "Marie's mother," He motioned deeper into the hospital where my mother was. "That woman, she is not your biological mother. Your real mother died giving birth to you. I loved your mother,"

Somewhere between 'That woman', and whatever he said after 'real mother' was lost on my deaf ears. My heart pounded in my chest and tears stung my eyes. I had known my mother had no love for me, that had been made clear the day she pushed me to my knees and screamed at me for leaving the house that stormy night just before my junior year in high school. She screamed about how stupid I was, how much I wanted to be raped, about how much she had hated raising such a whore for a daughter. I had suspected from the way she spoke about me that I wasn't hers; but a small part of my heart wanted those suspicions to be false.

But as he told me of my 'real mother' all I heard was the fact she was dead, the woman I thought as my mother for so many years was dying, and Dad wasn't planning on taking me with him where ever he was living now.

I cried as he spoke, unable to hear the most of it.

Sometime later, when I was able to open my eyes and wipe away the tears, he was gone and Marie was sitting on the other side of the waiting room holding what looked like a brand new iPhone. On the chair next to me was a pile of cash and a blank envelope.

Dad was nowhere in sight.

I scooped the pile from the chair and stood, racing towards the exit. When I was outside the hospital, away from everyone I had called family, I opened the envelope. Inside was a debit card with a sticky note on the front. Use the money wisely. There will be no more once it's gone. I sobbed, but pushed the card into my pocket after throwing the sticky note to the ground in a crumpled ball, and pulled out the next piece of paper inside.