Secret Keeper (My Myth Trilogy - Book 2): Young Adult Fantasy Novel

by Jane Alvey Harris

  “You might as well come out.” Minali can scarce contain her glee as she steps out of the passenger door and toward the shoulder of the road. “All of us can see you.”

  All of us?

  Shit-on-a-stick.

  Laughter erupts from the back of the Jeep, but the reflection off the windows blinds me.

  Obviously, despite my best efforts, I have not transformed into a birch tree.

  Coming out from my apparently totally obvious hiding place, I pull the hood of Kaillen’s sweatshirt off my head so I don’t look like a giant garden gnome, and brush my hair back from my face as I approach my ridiculers.

  “Seriously, Emily. Why are you sneaking around in the woods like a criminal?”

  Minali’s friend Chloe climbs out of the back of the Jeep to join her delighted bestie at the shoulder of the road.

  If it were up to me, I would cease to exist. Right…now.

  No such luck.

  Teagan, my girl-crush with the white dreads and henna painted arms steps out next, followed by a stocky guy I’ve never seen before. Is Brady’s Jeep a clown car? How did they all fit back there? How lovely that the whole town is along on this field trip to the idiot farm, where grows one solitary idiot girl: me.

  Might as well make it worth their while.

  “I’m running away,” I blurt, fully aware how juvenile it sounds.

  The clique gasps collectively. Whatever they were expecting, it wasn’t that.

  “Are you hurt?” Brady’s voice sounds genuinely concerned. He turns off the ignition and climbs from the Jeep, apparently confident no one else uses this road except for him and his crew. “Did someone hurt you?”

  He takes off his sunglasses, revealing his hazel, gold-flecked eyes, and it hits me. He reminds me of a guy I had the biggest crush on freshman year. He was sort of a jock, but he was also incredibly sweet. Sophie was always pushing me to talk to him, but I was too shy. And then of course he started dating this insanely hot girl a year above us.

  “Hurt?” I repeat. What does he mean? But then I remember what Kaillen said about everyone in this town knowing everyone’s business, and once again I’m paranoid they heard about Mom being in rehab and Dad being in prison, or even about my own stint in detox. Heat flames my cheeks and I shrivel inside. My hands itch to pull the hood of Kaillen’s sweatshirt up over my head to hide.

  But I’m all surface, skewered to an operating table by the clinical stares of these cool kids behind their designer eyewear. They lean forward with their dissection scalpels poised above me, waiting for me to start spurting fresh juicy gossip.

  “No,” I finally answer Brady’s question. “I’m not hurt. Nobody—hurt me—or anything.”

  Nope. I’m perfectly capable of doing that all by myself. Now, if they would just climb back in their clown car and drive away and forget all about me, everything would almost be fine.

  But Brady’s intense hazel eyes make me feel anything but forgettable.

  Minali glances from her boyfriend to me and jumps into action.

  “Come with me, you poor thing,” she coos, sliding the grocery bag from my shoulder and slinging it over her own. “You’ve obviously been crying. A lot. Poor, traumatized lamb! Did you get dumped? Come and tell us all about it.” She grabs my hand and tows me out of the trees toward the Jeep. “We’re going to the beach for a bonfire and you’re coming, too.”

  Like a switch being thrown, the group’s barometer shifts. Instantly I go from being the object of their amusement to the focus of their pity.

  “No. I didn’t get dumped, and I can’t come with you… I mean, there can’t be any more room in there…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Minali is in her element. “You can sit on Reece’s lap,” she chides. “Can’t she, Reece?”

  But I’m watching Brady walk backwards to the Jeep. He doesn’t break eye contact with me until he climbs inside and slips his Ray-Bans back over his nose.

  I’m pushed and pulled into the belly of the beast as the ignition rumbles to life. It’s a jostle of elbows and knees, with Reece holding me around my waist, pulling me deep on his lap. I scoot to the edge, until I’m basically perched on his knees. It’s all for naught, though. Brady shifts into first gear and I topple back against Reece’s chest where he secures me with his arms and whispers into my hair, “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll keep you safe.”

  I close my eyes and go limp, playing possum. The closest beach is at least a half hour drive.

  I can’t even run away right.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Nothing against rich people, but seriously, you’d think they’d be a little more careful with their valuables.

  Somehow, Minali has the key to her parents’ best friends’ tennis pro’s bungalow on a cliff in Big Sur. Floor-to-ceiling windows gaze in simplistic architectural perfection over coarse clumps of wind-picked scrub and hearty flowering succulents to the shivery slate-colored briny Pacific surf. It makes me wonder if Minali might not be quite so intolerable if she didn’t have quite so much privilege. How much of her personality is nature verses nurture?

  Same could be asked of me, though. Would I be such a screw-up at everything if I had different parents, or is my talent for screwing up something I was born with?

  I pull the sleeves of Kaillen’s too-large hoodie down so they’re balled up around my fists as a precaution to keep from picking up what looks like a first edition volume of Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles. It’s just sitting on a random credenza in the foyer. I have a fierce craving to inhale its delicious musty odor. I’m totally that nutty bibliophile who hoards paperbacks and refuses to put reading apps on my phone.

  Of course, no one else is phased by Mr. and Mrs. Tennis Pro’s absurdly amazing collection of literature and knick-knacks lying out in the open. This is all normal to them.

  A mammoth gilt-framed entry mirror reflects the unfortunate way Kaillen’s bumble bee-yellow sweatshirt clashes with my violent-pink tearstained face, accentuating my red nose, puffy eyes, and wild orange hair. But before I can do anything to tame it, Reece grabs my hand.

  “Come on, Gorgeous,” he says. “You’re with me.”

  I am? Does he own me now because I sat on his lap? True, I’m new to the whole boyfriend scenario, but I’m still pretty sure that’s not a thing.

  I don’t want to be here. I definitely don’t like the way my unwilling fingers are squished up in Reece’s sweaty grip. But I’m too overwhelmed to protest. I simply let him pull me through the stunning house and up the spiraling stairs.

  Nancy would probably ask why I’d gotten in the car in the first place if I didn’t want to go, especially after our talk about consent. I would shrug my shoulders and say “I dunno,” but the shameful truth is simple: I don’t want to be a loser. I want to fit in.

  The pulse in my throat thumps persistently: ‘You’re not with him, you’re not with him,’ while in my head I see Aunt Meg’s thin lips repeating, ‘Grow up, Young Lady. You’re embarrassing yourself!’

  Reece leads me to the only room in the house without a majestic view of the Pacific. It’s a game room. No windows at all, to minimize glare on the toys. An enormous flat screen takes up an entire wall, while the biggest, blackest chrome sound system I’ve ever seen eats up another.

  The rest of the crowd is already congregated in the center of the dark room around a lighter. The space quickly clouds with sticky-sweet smoke from a giant blunt.

  Reece drops my hand to take a brown bag out of a backpack. They pass it around, taking dramatic chugs from the covered bottle. I take advantage of his distraction to break away, slinking into a dim corner next to a subwoofer as big as my head.

  If I text Aunt Meg, she’ll send someone to get me. But would she be mad I’m with kids who are drinking and doing drugs, or would she think I’m a baby for not figuring out how to get along with the “lovely young people”?

  I could text Kaillen. Except that I deleted his number.

  WHUMP. />
  The subwoofer next to my shoulder blares to life. Something viciously emo spawns from the vibrating disk at its center, pushing a plague into my inner ear. I can’t find my bearings. More and more anxiety piles on top of my breastbone with each jackhammer strike along the bass line, like a dump truck emptying an entire quarry of panic onto my chest—piling it higher and higher—until my ribcage creaks and brilliant stars spark violet lightning in the black-socket hollows of my narrowing vision.

  WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

  Entranced by the toneless vocals bleeding from the speakers, I watch Reece take a hit and hold his breath. He turns and grabs my hand, yanking me against him and covering my lips with his.

  The bitter clove taste of cheap whisky floods my nostrils. He exhales as his tongue invades my mouth, pushing his fetid lungful of marijuana between my teeth.

  Moist acrid smoke bites down my throat to my bronchial tubes, smoldering in my lungs…

  Instinct takes over, stiff-arming him away from me.

  Get it out! my lungs demand. I need to retch. I need to scrape the pollution off my tongue and out of my airways.

  Reece’s amusement distantly buzzes around me. He snags the ties of Kaillen’s sweatshirt and pulls me roughly back against him. “It’s not going to kill you, Alvey. Loosen up.”

  His voice is too loud.

  “Stop being an asshole,” Brady barks, shoving Reece away from me. Everything’s moving in slow motion.

  “Whoa, calm down, man,” Reece snaps. “We’re just having fun. What’s the big deal?”

  I’m doubled over, gasping. My lungs hurt like I inhaled thorns. I can’t stop coughing and choking. Air comes in but won’t go out.

  “Back. Off.“ Brady is in Reece’s face. “You didn’t even ask her.”

  “Ask her what? Are you serious? That’s your signature move, Brady. God, you’re such a dick.”

  Teagan leans down over me, her dreads brushing against my hot cheek. “Are you okay, Emily?” She pats my back.

  “Asthma,” I choke out, fresh tears spilling from my eyes.

  “Oh, Jesus. Get her a glass of water!” Brady shouts, but I don’t know who he’s shouting at.

  “Do you have an inhaler?” Teagan asks. I can only shake my head. I can’t believe I remembered to pack lip gloss but not my inhaler.

  The first gulp of the water Chloe tips down my throat crackles fire—it’s sparkling water—but it’s wet and it’s cold and the coughing stops long enough for me to catch my breath and hold my hand up in self-defense as they collectively move closer.

  “Make yourself useful and open a window or something,” Brady spits at Reece.

  “There aren’t any windows in here,” Minali says, her voice slightly panicked.

  “Shit. I’m sorry, Man,” Reece says to Brady. “I didn’t know she has asthma.”

  Even through my coughing fit, his comment strikes me as odd. Am I the only one who noticed that Reece just apologized to Brady for something he did to me? And what if I didn’t have asthma? Would it make what he did all right?

  I catch enough breath to drain the tumbler dry and hand it back to Chloe, scrubbing any of Reece’s lingering DNA from my lips with the back of my hand. My heart and my brain are in complete agreement about the word Nancy armed me with: I did not consent to his kiss.

  The room is stifling. I wriggle out of Kaillen’s hoodie. Sweat creeps down my back in a trickle as I lean against the subwoofer. The bass vibrates around me, matching the buzzing drone of my worthless airways. Too weak to resist anymore, I let the relentless beat envelop me. It courses through me until there’s no room left for any thought, any emotion, any sensation in my body or my head…only a tortured, deafening dissonance that is, and is not, me.

  But someone turns the stereo off. Instantly, every perception the grinding music had crushed from my body rushes back: embarrassment, breathlessness, pain.

  “I think I should go,” I murmur to no one in particular. “Thanks for…” For what? “Um…for the sparkling water.”

  “Emily, wait,” Minali sounds stricken, like maybe watching one of her friends assault a guest isn’t the reputation she’s going for. “You can’t go yet! You must be exhausted. At least stay until we eat and then Brady and I can drive you home. Stay for the bonfire. It’ll change everything.”

  A bonfire. Yay. More smoke. I already smell—and taste—like a headshop, now I’m going to smell like a campfire, one of my least favorite smells on the entire planet. But I for sure don’t want to call Aunt Meg, and my body’s not really up to walking a gazillion miles back to the Vineyard.

  Plus, I went to all the effort of running away. Ugh.

  Teagan grabs my hand. “Come on. Let’s get some fresh air.”

  Another coughing attack makes my eyes water, but I follow her from the dark room. Her dreads catch the sunlight pouring in from the wall of windows as she leads me down the stairs.

  “Thanks for…you know. For helping me,” I murmur, shy. “I really like your hair.”

  “Namaste,” she grins over her shoulder. “You’d be killer with dreads!”

  Whoa. Me with dreads. Aunt Meg would explode.

  Now I have a million things I want to ask Teagan about herself: Did the pin-up girl tattoo on her calf hurt? Did she do her own henna? Where did she find those amazing high-tops? With one sincere compliment she’s completely obliterated my humiliation.

  She holds my hand as we walk out the back door, and I like it. It’s comforting. I’m beyond relieved she doesn’t mention Brady or Reece or my complete lack of chill. Her touch is soft and smooth and light, but her grip is solid, offering harbor in uncharted waters. I am safe for at least this moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Even in my most vivid hallucinations I never could have imagined a place like this existed, not in any Realm.

  Sequoias, sugar pines, and broad skirted firs all thicket together, holding hands to keep from tumbling as they descend the steep granite cliff side. Patches of colorful sandstone and bright quartz granofels gleam from the craggy slopes in the mellow light of the setting sun.

  Golden grass and verdurous succulents obscure the edges of a narrow path beneath our feet. We clamber down to a small inlet where cerulean waves lap at the pale blond beach.

  Is this even real? It’s like a painting, only too perfect. No, it’s like a photograph that’s been expertly retouched. Eyes glued to paradise, I stumble slightly over a loose rock on the trail. Still holding my hand, Teagan glances back and smiles at my wide-eyed awe.

  “Pretty incredible, isn’t it?”

  “Are you sure it’s okay to come down here? Any place this perfect has to be private property.”

  Teagan laughs. “Nope. There are hundreds of coves like this in Big Sur.”

  The sand is pristine. The only evidence humans have ever set foot here are three large sun-bleached driftwood logs arranged around an enormous stone-lined fire pit.

  “Who puts a fire pit smack in the middle of Nirvana?” I blurt.

  “You can have any seat in the house, M’Lady.” Teagan gestures expansively. I pick the driftwood log furthest from where the smoke and fire will be, and closest to the incoming tide. Leaning back, I close my eyes in relief, letting my hair whip around my face, shoulders, and arms: a stinging wind-shower to scour away my shame. Wiggling my feet in the damp sand, my toes dig tiny toe-tunnels. My chipped pink-polished nails peek out at me like bright eyes from under the wet sand and gulls shriek their lazy lament at the rise and fall of the surf.

  Teagan’s warmth slides down next to me.

  “Better?” she asks, letting her head rest on my shoulder.

  “So. Much. Better,” I whisper.

  The rest of the group clambers down the hillside to join us around the fire pit, shattering the peaceful moment Teagan and I were sharing.

  “Who wants beer?” Reece shouts, carrying a huge cooler on his shoulder. I’m beginning to wonder if I wouldn’t be happier in a male-free environment
. But at least he asks this time. He could have simply grabbed a beer, popped off the top, and wrenched my head back to empty it down my throat like they do on those spring break Girls Gone Wild shows I always hear about.

  “No thanks.” I’m staring out to sea, avoiding eye contact as he offers me one.

  “Told you she’d say no. She’s a good girl, aren’t you Emily?” Minali’s voice is sugar sweet. “Way too good for you, Reece.” She sticks her tongue out at him playfully. “Good girls don’t inhale or drink and they definitely don’t kiss losers.”

  “Actually, I’m…um…” Just say it. “I’m…recovering from some…things,” I admit. “I have an issue with substance abuse…” I wonder if Minali can see waves of embarrassment rising off me as I meet her gaze. Next to me Teagan squeezes my arm. It grounds me just enough to keep me from spontaneously combusting in a blaze of humiliation.

  “Oh.” For once Minali can’t think of anything snarky to say. “I didn’t know…”

  I’ve got to hand it to Nancy. Speaking your truth really does disarm people. I have a long ways to go, though, before I can own my own stuff without wanting to curl up in a little ball and roll off into the sunset like a potato. Will that part ever get better?

  “Oh man,” Reece chimes. “Asthma and addiction?”

  Teagan snaps him a nasty look. “Shut up.”

  I can’t help but laugh a little.

  “Here, Emily.” Chloe reaches into the cooler. “I brought some bottled water for you. Flat this time.”

  “Thank you,” I say, genuinely grateful for her kindness.

  “So, Emily. Havin’ a pretty swell day so far?” Brady quips from where he’s hunched over the fire pit arranging kindling.

  Water sprays from my mouth as I choke on laughter. Everyone cracks up.

  “Shit. I’m really sorry, Emily,” Reece apologizes again as the laughter dies down. “That was uncool of me. I’m a jerk.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Minali echoes, almost pulling off sincerity.