Bold

by Jennifer Michael

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Did You Enjoy Bold?

  Jennifer Michael's Reading Group

  Newsletter

  Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Michael

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Rebecca Pau, The Final Wrap, http://www.thefinalwrap.com/

  Editor: Ashley Williams, Adept Edits

  Proofreader and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1979567329

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Did You Enjoy Bold?

  Jennifer Michael's Reading Group

  Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Michael

  Noah

  Six Years Old

  The scrape on my knee bleeds onto the leather of the seat.

  Mommy says big girls shouldn’t cry over boo-boos, but it hurts so bad, I can’t sit still.

  My Princess Jasmine nightie has a tear at the bottom, and I’m not supposed to go outside in my sleep clothes. Jasmine is my favorite princess, and Mommy brought this back for me after one of her trips with her man friend. The car I’m in moves fast, way faster than the carousel at the park. I close my eyes, wanting the driver to slow down. My tummy doesn’t feel so good, but it helps when I’m not looking out the window. The car stops, and I open my eyes, slowly peeking out the window to see where we are. There is so much brick. The driveway and the big building look like something from one of my storybooks. Only, this time, I don’t want to be here.

  I want to go home.

  I want my mommy.

  Mad.

  Mommy seemed so mad when she found me outside. I fell, chasing the kitty, and scraped my knee. I reached for her hand, but she wouldn’t take mine. She wouldn’t even look at me.

  I cried.

  I yelled.

  I just wanted her to hug me, but she wouldn’t.

  Mommy put on a pretty dress but didn’t change my clothes, and then we drove in her car. She left me in a room filled with toys and a stranger. She kissed my forehead and told me she had to see the judge.

  She never came back.

  The man who opens his car door is the same man who sat with me.

  Mommy told me people in uniforms are there to help us, but this one scares me. Not because he’s scary. No. He doesn’t look like a monster, and his eyes are kind. He scares me because he’s taking me somewhere strange, and he won’t tell me where.

  “I’m sorry I fell and scraped my knee! I’m sorry I went outside in my pajamas! I’m sorry!” I throw myself down on the brick drive and cry into my hands.

  Mommy tells me all the time to be a good girl, but there was a kitty outside, and I just wanted to play with it.

  Rain pours down from the sky and wets my messy hair. Mommy didn’t brush it when I got up. It’s always tangled in the mornings.

  “Come on, Noah. You’ll be okay.”

  The man reaches his hand toward me, but I don’t want to get up. I want my mommy.

  “I want to go home!”

  His arms go around me, and he picks me up. I kick, but he won’t let go. I can’t move my arms as he walks us up to an old building, which is bigger than three of my houses.

  “Noah, please hold still. You’re going to hurt yourself,” the man says as he opens the castle-sized door of where he’s brought me. The screech of the old door hurts my ears as he pulls it.

  “Will I be home for bedtime? Mommy sings the monsters away.”

  Only Mommy can make the dark safe.

  “No, Noah. You won’t be going home tonight. You’ll be staying here,” he says.

  “But why?” I whine.

  Mommy doesn’t like it when I whine, but I don’t wanna stay here. It’s cold and scary.

  “Someone here will explain it to you better than I can. Sometimes, Noah, grown-ups make decisions that are hard for kids to understand. Honestly, some decisions people make are hard for other grown-ups to understand.”

  He sets me down on the floor, and snot runs from my nose as I try to understand what he’s saying.

  “You’ll be okay. I know you will. I can already see that you’re a fighter. Don’t let this break you, little one.”

  Maybe he’s not so scary, but I still don’t know why I’m here or what he means.

  “Am I here because I was bad? Because I went outside? Is this my time-out?”

  Time-outs are not fun. I don’t like them. I try to be a good girl.

  “No! Don’t ever think that. You did nothing wrong, Noah. Whatever happens from here on out, please know that none of this is your fault. You got dealt a bad hand, kid, and I’m sorry.” He pats my head, and his fingers get caught in my snarls.

  “Does Mommy still love me?”

  His mouth hangs open, and his eyes get sad. “That’s a big question, Noah, but I think parents always love their children, even when they can’t be around for them. For now thou
gh, you’re going to have to live here.”

  Live here? What about my teddy and Mommy? What about my toys? I don’t understand. This place is too big. It’s too dark. I don’t wanna live here. I want my bed and my Elmo nightlight.

  “Mommy! Mommy! I want my mommy!” I shout.

  A woman appears from down a hallway, and I cling on to the man’s leg.

  “The quicker you go, the better. She won’t calm down until we get her settled,” she says to the man who brought me here.

  Is he going to leave, too? I just started to like him.

  He leans down so that his face is next to mine. “I’m sorry this happened, Noah.”

  He removes my hands from his pant leg and leaves me on the floor.

  I scream until I start to feel dizzy, and then … everything … goes … dark.

  Noah

  When the plane touches down in Bay Town, Florida, and the flight attendant announces the weather, a smile breaks out on my face. This ride was the first of many firsts for me. As people exit the plane in a long line, I unbuckle my seat belt and relax, thinking about my Orbit List that I have tucked in my pocket. Today, I get to cross off the first item, which I would say is a pretty darn good way to spend a birthday. Sure, most people would hate the idea of spending their birthday on a plane, but for me, my eighteenth birthday has been unparalleled. This move is the best present I’ve ever given myself. I’m an adult out in the world, on my own.

  The terminal is packed, which has anxiety running through me. I’ve never been crammed into a space with so many people. Golden Heights, the orphanage where I grew up after the age of six, had roughly twenty kids and ten members of staff, and it was very rare that all of us would be in one room at the same time. Here though, I wouldn’t be able to count the number of people around me. Strangers push and shove without any concern. Others wander aimlessly, as if they have no idea where they are going or leaving from. Some children throw tantrums in the middle of the walkway while others sleep through the noise of the hustle and bustle.

  Then, there is me.

  Fascinated.

  Nervous.

  Determined.

  I am a girl with the world in front of her.

  I’ve said my good-byes to rainy Seattle, and I’m ready for the sunshine, the beach, and most of all, my new beginning. That’s why I chose Florida. I want to feel the sun on my face every day going forward. I want to make up for all the time I’ve lost.

  I retrieve one oversize suitcase at baggage claim. It takes two attempts before I can successfully hail a cab, and after thirty-three minutes and over forty dollars in cab fare, I’m standing outside my new address. It’s much smaller than Golden Heights, which I guess I should have expected, but it’s also so much more intimidating. I guess the unknown always is. I knew Golden Heights. I had a routine—albeit the one forced upon me, but it was familiar. Until now, it was all I knew.

  I stand on the sidewalk, hopeful about my life here, checking out the old bungalow-style home. The lawn is green and well kept. The sides of the house are a grayish-tan color, and two windows bracket the front door. I move and take the five steps that lead me closer to the entrance. Plants and flowers line the waist-high pillars that surround the small porch. A traditional hanging swing, big enough for three, sways to my right. Everything about this place screams inviting, so I take a deep breath, straighten my clothes, and smooth down my hair before knocking on the door of my new home.

  “Welcome! You must be Noah. Please, come in.” The girl with a fresh face and a wide smile ushers me inside. Her long brown hair flows down her back, and she has a swath of freckles on the bridge of her nose. “I’m Madison. I’m so excited to meet you!” She shakes my hand, but it isn’t cold. It’s a two-handed comforting touch.

  I like Madison immediately.

  “Thank you. I’m excited to be here.” I look around the entryway, very curious.

  “How was your flight?” She leans into her question, displaying her genuine interest in my answer.

  “It was amazing.”

  A welcome mat crunches under my feet, and there are flowers in the entryway that brighten the space. Oversize plaid couches sit to my right, and an overfilled coat rack is positioned to my left. The smell of baked goods hits me in the face.

  “Really? I hate flying. There is always a little kid kicking my chair, and my ears always pop for days after.”

  I hope I never grow to hate it. It would be a shame not to love the first activity from my list I ever accomplished.

  “It was my first time flying. So, maybe I had on rose-colored glasses for the experience.” I downplay how freeing the flight was for me. I did just meet Madison.

  “First time, huh? My parents had me on planes since I was the brat kicking seats. Did they give you those airplane wings they always give kids on their first flight?”

  My mom always stuck me with the old lady who lived next door when she went on trips.

  “Sure did!” I show her my purse where I stuck the pin.

  The easiness between us settles my nerves a bit.

  “You can leave that there.” She gestures to my suitcase before grabbing my elbow and practically dragging me down the hallway. “Come on, you have to meet Benson!”

  “Careful with the frosting,” a boy with pale skin and copper hair says as Madison and I enter the kitchen.

  The pink sugary substance he’s complaining about is everywhere. When I say everywhere, I mean it, too. It’s on the table, the guy occupying the table, and even the floor. I haven’t looked up, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some on the ceiling.

  “Frosting is meant to be spread in excess.” The guy disagrees with himself about there being any issue.

  Alarm bells ring in my head. Is this guy talking to himself? Maybe agreeing to rent a room with people I had never met was a bad idea, but the ad they’d placed online seemed so normal. Besides, who doesn’t talk to themselves every now and again?

  “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just aim for the cupcakes.” He huffs out in frustration, and his face develops a slight tic.

  My manners overpower my nerves, and I speak up, “Hi, Benson! I’m so happy to meet you.” My cheerful words fall to the floor of a silent room.

  The nervous dude looks everywhere but at me.

  Madison steps in to ease the awkwardness. “Noah, Benson made you cupcakes to welcome you. Isn’t that nice?” There is a plea in Madison’s tone, asking our third roommate to behave.

  “Madison is bossy. The cupcakes were her idea, and sugar is deadly.” His first words to me aren’t ideal.

  Madison loses a bit of her bright, sunshiny demeanor as her eyes narrow on the back of his head.

  Benson mumbles some nonsense, shakes his head, and stands. “Welcome, Noah.” He hands me the plentiful but pitifully frosted cake before he seems to shrink in on himself and slips from the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” The one word cautiously leaves my lips.

  “I’m sorry about him. I’d say this isn’t normally how he is, but that’s not true. Benson is wary of new people. He’ll get used to you though. Just give us a chance before you take off running.” Madison moves to the counter and grabs a roll of paper towels. “Let me clean up this mess a little, and then I’ll show you around the house.”

  “Okay.” I move to help her with the frosting-covered surface.

  Right now, she’s the only reason I’m sticking around. Well, that, and I really don’t have any other place to go.

  When we’re done, she shows me to my room, which is just as warm and inviting as the rest of the house … well, besides Benson. She leaves me alone for a bit to unpack before dinner, which she says is cooking, and I take the unopened letter that came for me in the mail last week from my bag and tuck it away in a drawer. My clothes get hung up in my closet, and my list goes in my bedside drawer. It takes me a handful of minutes to unpack the entirety of my life, and then I shove my suitcase onto the small shelf at the top of my closet before lying back on my
bed.

  I am Noah Mackenzie. I survived life in an orphanage after my mother abandoned me. I can handle my new housemates.

  I will thrive here and get everything I’ve ever dreamed life could bring. Positivity is my strength, and that can’t be broken. After staring at the ceiling for longer than I want to admit, I take a deep breath and head to dinner.

  Benson mans the stove while Madison sets the table. I sit quietly, unsure of my role in this new house, as my new roommates move around, eventually taking their own seats at the table. Everyone digs into the pasta dish, which is so much better than anything I ever ate at Golden Heights.

  “This is great, Benson. Thank you,” I compliment.

  The twitch in his right eye strengthens, but he doesn’t look up from his plate.

  “So, what prompted this big move, Noah? Will you miss Seattle?” Madison’s voice is pleasant over the clank of utensils against plates.

  I take another bite and glance up at her. She’s looking at me with her head tilted to the side. I know she’s just trying to get to know me, but I kind of feel like a bug under glass.

  “I won’t miss Seattle. There wasn’t anything there for me, and the move felt like a clean break. Today’s actually my birthday. Coming here was a present to myself.”

  Madison’s eyes widen, and her fork halts midway to her mouth. “Oh! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Happy birthday, Noah! Good thing we made those cupcakes. I’m sure I have a candle around here somewhere for after dinner.” Madison claps her hands with enthusiasm.

  Benson continues to stare at his plate. His silence makes me nervous.

  “So, Benson, do you have any tips for this new Floridian?” I fumble from topic to topic, trying to break the ice with him.

  “Yeah, don’t drink the water from the tap. The government fills it with chemicals to program our brains, and you’ll end up just another sheep in the system if you drink that stuff.” Benson keeps his eyes glued to his bottled water.

  Huh? Is he serious? Is the water unsafe to drink?

  I examine the glass next to my plate.

  “Don’t let Benson scare you. He has lots of colorful ideas. Some more valid than others.” Madison pats my hand, and I push food around on the plate with my fork.

  We eat the rest of the meal in relative silence.