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𝑇𝑒𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑛,
𝑂𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦, ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑘𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝑊𝑒’𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑. 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼’𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐼 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢.
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑡. 𝐼’𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦-𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟—𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠.
𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑢𝑚𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.
𝑉𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠,
𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡
𝑉𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑇𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟. 𝑉𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑇𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑇𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑒, 𝑛𝑜𝑛-𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦, 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
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When the end of the day finally comes, after hours of the same thirty people sneaking looks at me constantly, the only thing I want to do is curl up in bed and forget today happened.
As I exit the school, a scuffle at the edge of the school’s property catches my attention. There’s two guys towering over another one. Shorter and wider than the two, he steps back, arms up in defense.
I sigh, shoulders lowering. Bullies suck worse than first days. No matter what, I don’t ever allow myself to be bulled. People can speak negatively about me behind my back all they want, but they’ll never say anything to my damn face and make it out unscathed.
I glance to the right, seeking out a teacher on duty, but most of them seem occupied with organizing the bus lines for the younger kids. Everyone’s so worried about young kids’ safety, leaving the older ones to fend for themselves.
Maybe it’s dumb of me. Maybe I shouldn’t make waves on the first day. Either way, it doesn’t stop me from marching over there and pushing between the three bodies, even noting the two bullies are much larger than me and can easily squish me if they wanted to.
“Hey!” I call, shoving my hands on one’s chest. “Back the hell off. What is wrong with you?”
Both guys stop what they’re doing, their gazes dropping to me. One sneers, but his attention remains locked on the kid they were pushing around. “Thorne, you’re pathetic. Needing a girl to friggin’ protect you.”
“You’re pathetic,” I counter, before the guy—this Thorne—can speak, “for picking on people. God, what is wrong with you? You realize there are bigger issues in the world than your pettiness, right?” Past the bully’s body, I catch the eye of a teacher, who’s finally turned around, noticing us. “Look, a teacher is watching. There’s nothing you can do now anyway, without getting in trouble.”
The one I pushed away steps farther back, his fist clenching his friend’s shirtsleeve. He rolls his eyes, scanning me, his gaze stopping on my ratty shoes. “Whatever, you two are made for each other.”
Grumbling, they run off, and once there’s a few feet of distance between us, I do too, marching in the opposite direction.
“Hey, wait! You can’t just leave after that.”
I spin on my heel, arms crossed and hip cocked out, as the kid I saved jogs closer to me. His blond hair hangs over his eyes, as is the style with most guys my age right now, but his kind smile shines through.
Still, I don’t fall for it. Every foster family I’ve ever had smiles kindly in the beginning. Then it goes downhill. “Why, because you want to insult me for ‘taking care of you?’ Sorry for having a heart.” Guys are all the same—unable to handle being “saved” by a girl.
“No, I wanted to thank you.” His hands at his sides curl, his sapphire eyes darting all around my form.
Oh. “No worries.” I turn to leave again, shrugging off his apology. Being a decent human doesn’t mean I need a reward.
And again, as if he’s a glutton for punishment, he speaks, “It is a big deal. Not everyone does stuff like that.”
He’s not going to let this go apparently. I spin again until I face him and roll my eyes. “That’s the issue. Too much bad in the world, and we’re not saving each other often enough. Why were they bullying you anyway?”
“Look at me.” His hands gesture to his body. “I mean, they’re on the track team. Fit. Popular. And, well, I’m not.”
Like he suggests, I scan him. I suppose he’s on the thicker side. Some would call him fat, but I’m not some. Weight doesn’t really matter. Fat or skinny, if someone is evil, they’re evil. Everyone worries about looks, but it’s personality and having a heart mattering more.
“Still no reason for them to make fun of you.” I shrug again, wondering when he’ll be satisfied enough with this conversation to allow me to leave.
Not yet, apparently, since his next words are, “You’re the new girl, right?”
Of course he knows me.
“I’m in the other grade seven class, and well, you were mentioned,” he adds, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his baggy jeans. “What’s your name?”
He seems harmless enough and is, so far, the only kid to look at me like I’m worth a moment of their time.
So, I say, “Teagan. Yours?”
“Brent. I like your hair,” he comments, his bright eyes landing on my head. “Cherry red.”
My fingers find the edges of my most noticeable feature. “Yeah.” Does he want me to say anything more to that?
“It’s too bad we’re not in the same class, but tomorrow for recess…” He trails off and shuffles his feet side to side as his teeth sink into the corner of his lip. “Wanna hang out?”
Is he trying to be friends with me? I tilt my head. It happens so infrequently in all the schools I’ve been to, I forget what friendship looks like.
He’s—Brent—is offering me a hand. Kindness. Friendship. And though I may not be in this town for long, there’s no reason I shouldn’t take the leap and risk it. Time will tell if he remains so, or if he’ll tire of the new kid, like so many others have in the past, and ignore me.
“Sure.”
Little did I know on that random Tuesday, Brent would become my everything.
My friend.
My hero.
My enemy.
My saviour.
My future.
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Read The First Chapter HERE!
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M.L. Philpitt is Canadian-born and raised, and enjoys representing Canada within her novels. As a Ravenclaw, she loves education, having undergraduate degrees in English Literature and Sociology, a certificate in Autism and Behavioural Sciences, and a MA in Counselling Psychology.
She writes in various romance new adult genres including paranormal, fantasy, dark romance, and contemporary. She has lots of crazy trapped in her head for readers to enjoy.
When M.L. Philpitt isn’t making up stories, she’s devouring those imagined by other authors. Her love of reading began when she was a young child and only grew with age. She enjoys many genres, as reflected in her writing preferences.
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