Secrecy: Olde Earth Academy: Year One Read online

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Amabel Daniels

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions

  Dedication

  For Andy

  Chapter One

  Poetry. Was there any other worse form of hell?

  I plopped my sandaled feet up on the picnic table in front of me. Too-bright hot pink nail polish on my toenails claimed my attention, and I squinted, trying for blinders to focus on this stupid assignment. I tuned out the hot summer sun baking me in the staff’s lunch area at the animal shelter. Ignored the country tunes murmuring from my coworker’s car across the lot. Dismissed the distant barking in the building behind me.

  Focus. Po-et-ry…

  Nothing. I gnawed on my lower lip and tapped the pencil to the notebook on my thighs.

  Just write something!

  “Stupid assignment,” I mumbled to the air.

  Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t another one of those cliché teenagers who loathed school and all manner of authority. I was thrilled about academics, giddy about starting high school. At least the learning part. And all the bits and pieces that actually mattered, which poetry did not.

  I reread the instructions I’d copied on the page’s lines. Grimacing, I floundered for something that might meet the summer pre-class criteria for the advanced course I was enrolled in.

  “In a poem, describe your feelings about becoming a freshman. Pentameter not required.”

  Hell. What was that? I pulled my phone out and Googled just enough to know I didn’t need this answer to sing-song according to syllables. Not required… Hmm. Sounded like a challenge to me. I’d never be a rapper, but I knew how to rhyme.

  Rolling my eyes, I decided to just be honest. It wasn’t like my lunch break was going to last longer than the ten minutes I had left. School would start just next week and I’d procrastinated too long already.

  I’m in a pickle.

  More taps of the lead tip to the page.

  Because I think people are fickle.

  “C’mon, Layla,” I grumbled.

  They tease and fight like a dickle.

  Dickle. Jesus Christ. I was going to fail AP English before it even started. Dickle?

  They tease and fight like a dickle just to tickle,

  Okay, at least that was a word. Did my answer have to make sense? Tickle what?

  At my patience of humankind on a nickel.

  I stared at my minute scribbles. I wouldn’t call it a poem, per se, but it was the truth. I was excited to start my imprisonment—uh, education—at Coltin High. Freshman year; a great, big adventure just waiting for me to…endure. If I didn’t have to deal with my classmates, sure, I’d be stoked.

  A few rubs of my eraser and I was ready for take two. I flicked the rubber morsels out of the folds of my t-shirt and sighed.

  Okay.

  How I felt about freshman year. In a poem. Without making it sound like a middle finger.

  Roses are red, violets are blue—

  “Actually, they’re purple…”

  Poems suck.

  People do too.

  Didn’t brevity count for something?

  I slapped the notebook shut and let my head fall back with a groan.

  Next week. In mere days, I’d be a student at Coltin High, surrounded by all the close-minded, judgmental evil souls I’d been classmates with since kindergarten. I hadn’t gotten a break from being taunted and ridiculed for all fourteen-almost-fifteen years of my life so far, so why should I expect something different now?

  Still, I couldn’t tamp down my eager mood to be a freshman. I would be that much closer to leaving this small town, so much nearer my true freedom in a college far away. A new start. Fresh slates and all. All I had to do was survive these next four years, and then the world would be mine.

  I straightened in my seat, allowing the start of a smile. Total independence was so close I could almost taste it.

  Four more years. Then I was outta here. My sister wasn’t bound for anything greater than what she could get here. She’d stay here so I wouldn’t have to worry about Dad being alone. As soon as I was handed my diploma, buh-bye.

  If I focused on my classes, ignored all the taunts and teases and let it in one ear and out the other, I’d be graduating in no time at a—

  “Hey, freak. Break’s over.”

  I inhaled deeply as Darren, my coworker, sauntered toward the building behind me. I wouldn’t rise to the bait to look at him, long used to his belittling attitude toward me.

  “Uh-huh.” I stretched out my forearms and waited for him to pass by. Like most of my peers, Darren and I had never gotten along. He secured a special place of irritation in my life, though. Not only was he my coworker at the Coltin County animal shelter—answering phones at the front desk like some all-important admin wannabe—he was also my sister’s boyfriend. Which ensured I had to put up with him at home most days and at work. No escape. And once school started…

  I whimpered to myself. There’d be no way to avoid him.

  “I’m gonna tell Mom you’re tardy,” he sneered when I didn’t stand.

  “Gee, tattle to mommy. That’s bold.”

  Still, his mom was the CEO of the shelter. And my break was almost over.

  “Oh.” He crossed his not-so-beefy arms across his white polo shirt, wrinkling the logo of a dog and cat on his pocket. With a stiff jerk, he tossed his sweaty blond hair back from his narrowed eyes. His lips curled in a sinister smile, but he immediately dropped them into a deep frown. “I get it. You think you can do whatever you want, like you’re some hot shit now.”

  I glared at the sky and pushed to sit up. Switching out my sandals for my socks and shoes, I refused to give him any more attention.

  Ignore him. Ignore it all. It’d been my mantra for years.

  “You help out on one little rescue call, and you act like you’re above everybody else, like—”

  The clang of the metal door opening behind us cut him short. Susan, head vet tech and my direct boss, narrowed her eyes at Darren then nodded at me.

  “Layla, there you are.” She slouched as she exhaled, obviously relieved. “Any chance you can please cut the rest of your break short? I’ve got two Great Danes in intake that we need to clean up, and they’re—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, shoving my feet into the sneakers. Those two huge dogs were terrified and probably not making any of Susan’s attempts of registration easy. If they were shaking and trembling when they walked from the animal control van into the shelter, they had to be absolutely convulsing in fear inside with the rest of the chaos.

  Darren dropped his arms and stood up taller. “Susan, if she continues to be delinquent, I’ll tell Mom that—”

  She barked a laugh. “Oh, shut it. You’re nobody’s boss here, kid. And Layla’s never late. Go up to the front desk. Maeve says all the lines are on hold.”

  I grinned as Darren skulked off, probably a fraction of a second from tattling to his mom that Susan was abrupt with him.

  Shoes on and laces double-knotted, I gathered my book, pencil, and lunch bag, and headed inside. Susan held the door open for me and followed me into the thankfully chilly air-conditioned hall.

  “That punk giving you shit again?” she asked as we went through the painted cinder-block corridor. It probably still would have looked like a prison if they used anything other than beige to colo
r the space.

  Darren, a punk? When isn’t he? I shrugged. Susan was older than us, held more seniority, and carried so much adult badassery I was jealous of her. Still, I didn’t want to bother her with whining. Darren had been, and always would be, a PITA. Why waste my time stating the obvious?

  “No big.”

  She scoffed in reply and brushed her pink pixie-length hair back at her temple. Her hand ceased midway through the motion, and she smiled sheepishly. She’d only hacked off and dyed her tresses a couple of days ago and likely wasn’t used to the new style.

  I tightened the elastic trying to manage my too-thick mousy hair and wished I had her confidence to try a new, bold style. Well, the length. Not the color. Pink was fine on my toes, but my head? I’d be a cotton-candy-haired tomato when I blushed. Which was too often.

  “Let me put my junk in my locker and I’ll be right there.”

  She nodded as I veered off toward the staff area.

  I made short work of stowing my things in my locker, double-checking to lock the space because Darren had messed with my things before. As I walked by, the smell of the air freshener plugged in the outlet competed with the building-wide stench of bleach and disinfectant. I winced. If it was strong to my nose, couldn’t they imagine how harsh it was on the animals?

  Once I rejoined Susan in the main intake room, she gave me the run-down.

  The two dogs padded back and forth in the room, their too-long nails clacking on the tile heard over their whines and whimpers. “So, these boys are from the east side of town.”

  Starved. Dehydrated. I frowned as I approached them, hating the mange marks on their fur and skin. I continued my own mental assessment as Susan spoke. She had yet to approach the large animals pacing in the clinic space.

  “No signs of aggression, yet, but…”

  But she still wouldn’t get near them. Hell, they were nearly the size of ponies. I didn’t blame her. Me? I walked right up between them.

  Easy, buddy. I lowered my hand and the taller gray one nuzzled my palm.

  Just take it easy. The other canine sat at my feet.

  I petted the first dog and eyed the other, letting them get used to me. Moot point. Animals were always at ease with me.

  Susan rattled off the deets from their pick-up and what she planned for them at our shelter. They’d fit in stalls nine and eleven in the large breed room. We’d clean them up, update vacs, and establish any behavior issues. They were rescues, so no chance for the previous owners, er, well, abusers to reclaim them. Charged with animal cruelty, they were never going to see these dogs again.

  Caressing the first dog’s snout, I zoned out what Susan explained. It was all redundant anyway, the same old thing we always did.

  Sometimes, the abundance of domestics overwhelmed me. There was never a shortage of cats, dogs, and other small pets through these doors. So many creatures who were abandoned, abused, neglected. Day in and day out, it would always continue. People mistreating animals. My sister liked to put down my career goals, saying I wanted to become a veterinarian for the moola and job security. A cold-hearted brat like her would never understand the connection I felt with these outcasts, these animals who were deemed a nuisance or dismissed as a problem.

  Because I can relate.

  Yes, there was a steady demand for animal care in our world. But my devotion to it ran deeper in ways I’d never been able to explain.

  “Look at you.”

  I glanced up at Susan’s softly spoken words. Up, because I’d lowered to my haunches to pet the second dog as he lay sprawled out on the floor. Belly up, leg thumping as I rubbed at his chest. “What?”

  She shook her head slightly, smiling. “Like a goddamn dog whisperer.”

  I rushed to stand and wiped my hands on my shorts. Those were words I’d heard too many times before. Dog Whisperer. Animal freak. Weirdo.

  Crazy. Psycho.

  I swallowed hard yet remained watching the dogs as they lay at my feet. Susan didn’t mean any malice. My supe wasn’t another one of the small-minded idiots in our town. She was only repeating what the local news station had labeled me as in their coverage of the little rescue case Darren had mentioned. The one where I’d helped the animal control officers corral a dozen angry pit bull-bull mastiff mixes.

  “Don’t you think they should’ve checked the copyright on that title before they used it on the news ticker and in the paper?” I avoided her eyes as I made to leave the room. Patting my thigh once, I called out, “C’mon, boys.”

  The pair of Great Danes followed me to the bathing lean-to outside. Susan trailed behind us. “You don’t like the attention?” she asked, flipping the lever for the showerhead.

  I shot her a look and she raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

  Did she, though? Could anyone? I’d never been able to explain my bond with animals. When I was a kid, it seemed harmless enough. Then, it’d been an otherworldly surprise, knowing that if people could be cruel and make fun of me, that at least animals seemed to like me.

  But when I started to mention other creatures, apparently made-up beings, it then turned into a curse. While I’d never shied away from animals, I’d learned awfully fast to never talk about what was instinct inside of me—and how could I, when there was no way to explain it?

  “I know you’re…”

  I cocked a brow at her as I continued on with my vet assistant duties, gently soaping up and then rinsing off the dogs’ bodies. Which rumor was she going to use?

  “An introvert.” She shrugged.

  I couldn’t help but laugh once. Well, that was a nice way to word it.

  “And quiet. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy to adjust to your new fame.”

  Fame? For keeping a couple of animal control officers from getting their heads bit off? I still couldn’t even see why the news had shown up. The rescue had taken place at a well-known drug runner’s residence, but why they had to focus on me, and how I’d wordlessly calmed those doped-up and stressed-out dogs was beyond me.

  “But it’s true, girlie.” Susan handed a towel to me as I nudged the first dog to go to her. I toweled off the second and stubbornly refused to comment on her insistence. “I’ve never seen anyone so chill with dogs like that, Layla. Not even back home in Houston in the bigger shelters. Or at college back home.”

  Funny thing was, I believed her. Because I’d never met anyone else who could be so chill with animals either.

  There was just me.

  One lonely, solo freak in the big, bad, mean old world.

  Chapter Two

  The late summer heat in Coltin was only tolerable because I’d lived there my whole life, but I added it to my list of things to look forward to once I could truly begin my life after high school. Ironic, I was anticipating a fresh start after my obligations to the state school system was over, and I was just heading into my freshman year.

  Jumping ahead much, Layla?

  Once I graduated, I’d waste no time in escaping.

  First priority, I thought as I walked down the cracked sidewalk along Main Street after my shift was done at the shelter, getting out of here.

  More specifically, to a larger city, one with a solid college where I could start my career. A location that didn’t waver between frightening flash floods and then seasons of long, constant dry heat under an unforgiving sun. Perhaps a city, where I could avoid uncommon…wildlife.

  I pushed the end of my sweaty ponytail back over my shoulder, hoping the thick shock of brown would protect the back of my neck from sunburn. My sunscreen had long since dripped and rubbed off. Bemoaning the harsh sunshine, I walked home to our trailer park, whiling away the time daydreaming.

  Fantasizing about being apart from familiar surroundings, relishing the thrill of a new place, maybe even meeting strangers who wouldn’t know my entire life story to instantly categorize me into some unstable field of weirdos unworthy of friendship.

  Lost as I was to my thoughts, I barely
registered Sabine rushing toward me along the trailer park main drive. Not until she was yards in front of me, something like her usual scowl marring her perfect face.

  No, something was off. I stopped and stood on the sidewalk-turned-patch of gravel and waited for her to reach me. We were past the age of wrestling and physically fighting. Now Sabine preferred mental warfare.

  I watched as she jogged up to me, out of breath. Her boobs—that she was so proud of—didn’t seem to make her fast pace very comfortable. She reached an arm across her chest, as though stilling them. Facing me a pace away, she smirked, her freckle-less skin barely wrinkling as she sobered into—ah, there it was, that scowl—the face she reserved solely for me.

  The scornful regard of a twin sister.

  “What’s taking you so long?” she whined, her usually sing-songy voice twinging into a complaint and losing its southern-ish sweetness.

  I tilted my head. She’d never awaited my return from work. No one did. She’d never wanted to be near me and Dad was always at work himself, either at his office at the theater or in his room.

  Or maybe…she had nefarious plans for me. Ever since she’d filled out and so happily embraced her womanly body, she’d lost interest in the childish games and torture. Ratcheted up her self-absorption by only a hundred and fifteen degrees. But maybe she was that bored and needed to find entertainment in making my life hell tonight.

  “For?” I finally answered, watching as she panted and licked her lips. Running in the Texan heat wasn’t for the faint of heart. I’d know. I jogged every morning. Okay. Fine. I wasn’t afraid to say she was faint of heart. Sabine was faint of everything that required intelligence and stamina. Although, she was skilled at curling her arrow-straight blonde hair, so she had the upper body strength to account for that, at least.

  “Getting home.” She popped a fist to her hip and slanted in a posture of sass.

  Again, so what?

  “Darren said he got home like fifteen minutes ago.”

  “He has a car.” I tapped my feet on the stones. “I have these.” I was walking the one point seven miles home at the same speed I always did.