Mount Reform: a military school for the "troubled." That's where Keeley Harris has been for the past five years since her bad and brooding mafia boss father sent her away. After getting kicked out, Keeley returns home to a situation and a family sh...
There will be new characters introduced in this chapter. I would suggest looking back at the end of the cast list to refresh your memory, but if not there will still be descriptions of them!
Keeley's POV
I woke up from a thankfully dreamless sleep to the sound of my alarm going off: it was the first day of my new, traditional high school life.
So let me catch you up:
After Nick and I's trip to the tattoo shop on Saturday, we had gone back to the house and hung out with our other brothers all day. And I really hate to say it, but no matter how much Nick and I disagree, I trust him. I trust him so much it almost makes me sick. Some part of me knows that he cares about me, but if I admit it, it would mean I have more people to worry about. It's not that I don't worry about my family, it's just that I can't afford to do so.
My brothers showed me other areas of the house, starting in the basement. In the basement were a giant game room, gym, and movie space. The gym was a large, industrial-looking room with tons of workout equipment, a boxing ring, and punching bags. The game room was basically an old-school arcade with all of the classic games, complete with a checkered floor and a window that looked from the game room into the gym. To get to those rooms though, you had to pass through a cozy movie room that had large sofas and beanbags everywhere.
They then took me to the backyard, which was apparently acres of land complete with amazing woods and gardens. The gardens were quite a ways out, but it was worth the hike. A small yet spacious, glass gazebo sat in the middle of a vast array of flowers. Everything from roses to marigolds and petunias covered the ground. This space looked like a little hidden paradise.
Callan took me shopping on Sunday for clothes and school supplies. We drove to the nearest Walmart, which just happened to be 40 minutes away, and I got all the school supplies I apparently needed: notebooks, pencils, pens, highlighters, folders, everything besides a backpack. I was using the one I was given at Mount Reform, an old army pack they had used in the '50s and '60s. It was a green canvas bag with leather straps and buckles. The rest of Sunday I had kept busy with training and escaping to my piano room.
Now though, as it was 6:00 Monday morning, I got out of my bed and showered. I let my hair dry in its natural blonde waves down my back. Afterward, I walked into my closet and decided on a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a simple off-the-shoulder, white sweater with a lacy white tank underneath. I added a few necklaces and slipped on a pair of brown moccasins.
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When I looked at myself in the mirror, it was a bit odd. The girl I see looks normal: girly outfit, long wavy hair, shorter height. It didn't look like me though, but then I saw my tattoos, and I could see the weight of my past in my honey-colored eyes. I could see a girl who despite her painful past, was trying. And even though this girl was different, I kind of like her.
