Secrets

Smells Like Teen Spirit

"Be careful who you pretend to be. You might forget who you are."

Kennedy's POV

From this point on, this boy that named "Lance" was attending my school. I was supposed to be one of the coolest girls in school, how was I going to just cover that up to act like I was a normal girl? That was not possible.

The big day was here. I gladly gave him a ride to please my parents, but the awkwardness was unbearable. I glanced over from time to time and he was still staring solemnly out the window thinking about God knows what. My cherry red mustang braked against the gravel about three minutes from the school.

"Get out," I spoke coldly.

Lance's heartless eyes shot up to me, a little shocked. I was sure he would be frozen to his seat, but he gladly darted out the door like an animal trying to get away from its prey. I'm the one that kicked him out of my car yet he still managed to get under my skin.

Once in class, my eyes were immediately drawn to Simon, as usual. After taking my seat, I couldn't help but anticipate Lance's arrival. There were two minutes left until the bell rang and still no sign of him.

"What's wrong?" Simon rubbed his hand on my leg to stop it from shaking impatiently.

"Hmm? Oh, I forgot to tell you. So my mom and dad decided to do a fostering program to help a kid out and kind of let me experience life with a brother. He's supposed to be here by now but-"

Simon started to interrupt me, but also stopped when Lance came through the door. The lanky boy went straight to the back of the classroom but not without getting some serious looks from girls.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you sleep in that house with him." I watched Simon's face turn redder and redder until I thought he was going to pop.

Threatened much?

After Simon had officially eye-raped the poor guy the entire 55 minutes of English, the class was dismissed. Lance was scheduled to take some fundamental classes he didn't have credits for, which were basic things given to us in the ninth and tenth grade. I decided not to ask, but I was definitely curious about that.

On a more important note, this year was the senior's turn to create the haunted festival. Everyone was supposed to dress up and send kids through "the Corn Maze of Terror". It was a tradition and privilege everyone was quite excited about. We were allowed to leave class early to set up, but I knew Lance wouldn't be sure where to go. I finally tracked him down in math class where he was asking the teacher loads of questions. The scene was quite a sight: an excited 17-year-old boy mixed in a class of 15-year-old's bored out of their skulls.

"Hey Lance," I interrupted the teacher to get a glare from all the kids.

He looked up from his paper but was not pleased to see me, either. My smile faded and I went back to the reality that we hated each other.

We stood out in the hall for the briefest of moments. "What?" The tone in his voice was sickening.

I can't believe I was actually going to help him with that kind of attitude. I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. "It's not important, have a nice class." I walked off coolly and he returned to class without saying a word.

"Hey!" Reagan approached me with a plastered fake smile. "Heard you got a little brother. How does it feel to actually be a sister?" I brushed past her and kept walking.