On The Run

Chapter Two

Present Time
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The memory flashes through my mind and I sigh.

I am not allowed to have any contact with the Sirens or anyone from my old home, in case of the off chance that The Raptors would track it back to me.

It was the beginning of January already, and I had gotten no "okay" to come back.

7 months have passed.

This means that they haven't been able to jail the whole gang.

Or worse, and my assumptions are correct.

Chrome has escaped.

I shudder just thinking about this and pull on a pale peach sundress, followed by lots of make up, high heels, and a ponytail.

I never used to dress like this.

It would always be leggings, a sweatshirt, and boots back in New Jersey.

But now I was in California. I was supposed to disguise myself.

So, much to my dismay, I have had to change myself into a sweet, innocent, girl who would never harm even a fly.

A girl who didn't belong to a dangerous gang and was hiding out from her rivals on the other side of the country.

But sometimes you have to take precautions in order to survive.

I scramble down the stairs into the kitchen, taking a biscuit and giving my parents a quick wave.

"Bye sweetie! Have a-" they are cut off as I slam the door behind me, and I physically and mentally flinch.

Oops?

Before they can come out and give me a lecture, I wobble down the sidewalk to the bus stop. (I still haven't exactly mastered the art of walking in high heels)

Boy, did I miss my boots.

Usually, the only people at my bus stop are me, and a boy named Charles.

He isn't much of a talker though. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't ever recall even hearing his voice before.

Today, however, there is another boy there.

He is a few inches taller than me, clad in a white shirt, a leather jacket, and black skinny jeans.

He is leaning against the bench, tapping his foot impatiently.

As I come closer, his features become more distinct and I can feel my breath hitch in my throat. His skin is tan, and he has tousled cream colored hair and eyes of a lighter but equally alluring color.

I shake myself out of my daze before he can notice, and walk past him, taking a seat next to Charles.

There is a snort from behind me, and I look back to see him raising an eyebrow at me expectantly, his eyes drifting down to my heels before coming back up to meet my gaze.

"Those heels look a little too high for you, don't you think?"

Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him.

"No. They are just fine, thank you very much."

The right side of his mouth raises upward in a crooked half smile.

"If you say so, princess."

My face heats up in anger and embarrassment at the overused pet name and I cross my arms sourly.

"That's not my name."

He simply quirks an eyebrow as if enjoying himself.

"Then what is it?"

I freeze. No one here knows my true identity. I had told my parents not to call me by my old name. That I "wanted to start new".

"Carly," I mutter, as I had told everyone else when I first arrived at this school.

He bursts into a fit of laughter as the bus pulls up in front of us and we begin to board.

"What's so funny?" I snap, and he holds up his hands in mock surrender.

"You just don't look like a Carly. I mean, the only people I have ever met named Carly usually have light hair and eyes. And you, well... you don't," he chuckles, referring to my dark hair and brown eyes.

I snort at this and shake my head.

Typical teenage boy, labeling me with a stereotype based on the way I look.

Oh, if only he knew.