by Erica Kiefer
Erica Kiefer
Clean Teen Publishing
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Rumors
Copyright © 2013 by: Erica Kiefer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address:
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To my father for his devotion to education and love of all things written, and to my mother for her relentless spirit and constant ability to find the light beyond the shadows.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Lingering Echoes Sneak Peak
Rumors—they spread fast like a virus, mutating and growing stronger with each person they touch. The difference between a rumor and virus, though, is that no one wants a virus. We do all we can to protect ourselves and to eradicate the spreading germ. On the other hand, the moment we get a taste of a rumor, we want more—taking pride in being the source of delivery. Fortunately, we can kill a virus with medicine. The only way to kill an infectious rumor, though, is to tell the truth—but if the truth hurts more than the rumor, perhaps it’s better to let the rumor run rampant.
Rumors were the reason I often hid in the bathroom, avoiding the questioning eyes of my high school peers. It was definitely not the ideal way to start my senior year, but it was easier to hide than risk the questions. Besides, from my position inside the handicap stall, I sometimes overheard tidbits of scandal, like how this kid named Derek cheated on Anna, even though everyone swore at the beginning of summer that they were going to make it. Now everyone hates Noel because of it. Unfortunately, sometimes I couldn’t escape playing the lead role in the circulating rumors, and all I could do was stand in that stall and listen.
All the stories, since school began two months ago, suggested I was in an accident. The details of this accident became hazy, depending on who shared them. Some tales were way off base and suggested I lost control of my four-wheeler and smashed my head into the ground. That would explain why I didn’t say much to anyone about what happened. They chalked it up to partial amnesia. Others were adamant that I fell off a Jet Ski and was hit by a boat, rendering me unconscious. Most people, however, seemed to know that I almost drowned in a river. Word spread that my cousin fell in the river, too. Although, the difference between my cousin and me was that she drowned. Since this happened in California, nobody here in Portland knew my cousin. Nobody really cared. They just liked to watch me from a distance, talking about me like I was an animal on display. They thought I couldn’t hear them whispering or catch them in my peripheral, gawking in pity, but I did.
Rumors aside, no one understood why I wouldn’t talk about it—why I refused to clarify the details of the accident last summer. It was simple really. Like I said, rumors can hurt—but sometimes, the truth can hurt more.
“What do you mean, you quit?” Coach Robbins leaned forward in his chair, his large forearms resting on the edge of the desk.
I sighed. I knew he wouldn’t make this easy. “I can’t—I’m not playing basketball this year.” With wavering eye contact, I fidgeted on the squeaky, plastic cushion beneath me, wishing the chair had wheels so I could roll my way out of the office.
Coach Robbins shook his head. He made visible efforts to maintain composure—a skill he often lacked on the court. Pausing, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “Allie, I know it’s been a rough start to your senior year. I’m very sorry about your cousin drowning over the summer, and I can only imagine how hard that must be—but this is your year!” His hand swept to his Wall of Fame, pointing to a framed article. The headlines stated with boldness: “RISE OF THE COLLINS TRIO!”
I didn’t need to skim last year’s article to remember the highlights:
Sisters Allie, Taylor, and Leah Collins dominate the court at
Sectional Championship, but come up short
Coach Robbins watched me, his eyes lighting up as if he could still feel the thrill of last year’s game—the screaming fans, cheering in both joy and agony as the scoreboard bounced back and forth, mercilessly playing with their heartstrings until the last second on the clock. My younger twin sisters, Taylor and Leah, were the rising stars of the year. Starting on the JV team as freshmen and then catapulting to the Varsity team for playoffs, they made an impressive debut for their first year of high school.
The second half of that championship game was the first time all three of us had been on the same court in a competitive game. It was like the basketball transformed into a ball of fire, shifting between our hands. We read each other’s movements with an unspoken gift shared only amongst sisters, our natural skills heightened by each other’s presence. Shot after shot, all three of us lit up the court, causing a surge of adrenaline amongst our teammates and the fans in the bleachers. We overcame a mountainous lead so quickly that Coach Robbins only real lament was that he hadn’t put us together sooner. Though we had lost the game by two points, the burning in Coach Robbins’ eyes peered with eagerness toward next season.
This season. The season I was refusing to be a part of.
Coach Robbins stood up as if our conversation was over. By the look on his face, he was probably still caught up in the memories. That and it was time for the first basketball practice of the season. I stood and he put a hand on my shoulder, his towering height stooping a bit to bring his face closer to my own lean, five-foot-seven frame. “You will be just fine. I’m sure you’re still hurting now from your loss, and that’s to be expected, but you’ll forget all about it once you start playing again. Get going, Collins. Suit up for practice.” He thumped my back twice, opening the door for me, and escorting me out of his office.
I almost bumped into my teammates and the other athletes who were shuffling towards the locker rooms. Tara Davis, one of my best friends, wrapped her arms around me in a tight squeeze, spinning us both around. “Start of the season!” she squealed, not catching on to the lack of mirrored delight on my face—or maybe she simply chose to ignore it. So many people seemed to do that these days. “We are going to kill it!” She linked arms with me, towing me towards the locker room. I glanced back at Coach Robbins, who gave me a nod of approval before grabbing the attention of our assistant coach. Already, our brief and useless conversation was forgotten. The locker room doors swung shut behind me.
