Hidden Creek Secrets (Hidden Creek High Book 1)

by Jaxson Kidman

  I moved my eyes from my new principal to my new school.

  No turning back now.

  The only thing that maybe eased me a little was that somewhere inside that building Weslee was there.

  “Do you want to talk about the fire?”

  Miss Carson was really young. She could probably slip into the hallway with the rest of us and nobody would know. The only thing that gave her away was her clothes. She wore the cliché almost ugly pant suit kind of thing that you’d expect from a teacher or whatever.

  She was my guidance counselor. There to help me with my classes, my life, talk about college and life when I was no longer required to attend Hidden Creek High. The funny part was I was past the age of being an adult. Partly my father’s fault for wanting (and paying) for me to miss a year of school. Technically I should have been behind Weslee, which when I realized that, it made me panic a little.

  Was he done with this place already?

  Shit.

  “Aira?” Miss Carson asked.

  Her lipstick matched her top. Her hair was pulled back all pretty.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you single?”

  “That’s personal.”

  “So is what happened to my house,” I said.

  Miss Carson nodded. “Noted. I stepped over the line. My apologies. I just wanted to break the ice a little and show you it’s okay to talk to me. I’m here for you, Aira. Transferring mid-year is tough. New town. New-”

  “I grew up here,” I said. “I was just gone for a little while.”

  “I mean, almost eight years…” Miss Carson waved a hand. “Forget it. I talked to your aunt.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great.”

  “She seems nice. Seems cool.”

  “Cool?” I asked.

  “Okay, if I’m breaking the ice, here it goes. I have several degrees in psychology. I’m working on my doctorate now. I should be somewhere else, doing something else, making a lot more money. But when I was your age I went through some stuff. My guidance counselor was the only one who was there for me. So I told myself I would do this as long as I could. To reach out and help. You went through something pretty tragic, Aira. And it’s not always easy to face it. And it’s not wise to sweep it under the rug either.”

  “I don’t own a broom,” I said.

  “Of course you don’t,” Miss Carson said. “Nobody your age does.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m confused.”

  “Good. Will you just listen for a second?”

  “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

  “Only because I have your schedule.”

  “True.”

  Miss Carson pushed back from her desk. “You don’t want to believe me but I care. I really do care. Your house burned down. You lost everything you owned. You moved to a different town, house, and now a different school.”

  “Thanks for the recap of my fucked-up life,” I said.

  Miss Carson tightened her lips together. Without saying another word she handed over my schedule.

  “That’s it?” I asked.

  “That’s it,” Miss Carson said. “I’m not going to waste your time or mine. How’s that?”

  “Fine, I guess.”

  “If you need help finding any classes, let me know. I’ll walk you there. But I won’t kiss your forehead or tell you I love you.”

  I laughed. “Right.”

  I slowly stood up.

  Miss Carson looked at a computer screen and started to type.

  I licked my lips and swallowed hard. “It sucked.”

  “What did?” she asked, not looking away from the computer.

  “The fire. It sucked. I have nightmares about it. A lot of them. And then I go for walks in the middle of the night to tire myself out.”

  Miss Carson moved her eyes to me. “There are ways to help with that.”

  “I know. I’m not there yet.”

  “I respect that, Aira. But we can’t let it hurt your grades.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your first day at Hidden Creek High.”

  I smiled.

  But truthfully, those words scared the hell out of me.

  My first class I snuck into, but the heavy door slammed so hard everyone looked at me and started to snicker.

  The teacher, a short, round woman with curly hair, stopped her presentation on perfect sentence structure only to stare at me with her head tilted as though I were some kind of burden. I showed my schedule and she waved her hand. This got more laughs toward me.

  I felt two inches tall and the last thing I needed was some pompous bitch to stick her foot out at me and try to trip me.

  In some kind of fancy flip flop, an ankle bracelet and a little butterfly tattoo that was probably fake, she slipped her foot out as I walked by.

  I stopped and looked down at her.

  Her makeup was done perfectly, looking like a dreamy model. The kind of girl that could suck a guy right in only to rip his heart into pieces for the hell of it. She had a chain around her neck with a diamond that tried to dip into her cleavage. Her hair was almost a white blonde color and her eyes were bright blue. Maybe the face of innocence to some, but there was a coldness behind those eyes.

  “Watch your fall, bitch,” she whispered.

  She slowly twisted her fancy pen in her hand as I stepped over her foot.

  “Nice try, cunt,” I muttered.

  Without hesitation she jumped up and turned around.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” she called out.

  Every chair in the room scratched against the floor.

  “Mika,” the teacher - Mrs. Preen according to my schedule sheet - called out. “Did I hear what I thought I heard?”

  “Did you hear what she called me?” Mika said, staring me down.

  I kept walking, finding an empty seat at the back of the classroom.

  “This isn’t over,” Mika called out.

  “Yes, it is,” Mrs. Preen said. “Now, I’m going to assume your outburst was because of the overuse of adjectives in this paragraph.”

  I sat down and watched as Mika curled her lip at me.

  I wasn’t in the mood for a power trip and would take anyone on.

  Whether it was a smart or stupid thing to do.

  As I started to unpack my bag, I felt someone touch my arm.

  I looked up and saw a beautiful girl looking at me. She was naturally tan with rich, dark eyes and lips that didn’t need lipstick to look red, if that made any sense. She had a calming sense to her.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Emma.”

  “Aira.”

  “Nice,” she said. “Mika is a bitch.”

  “Good to know.”

  I smiled.

  Emma winked.

  I put a notebook on my desk and watched as Mika leaned to the person next to her. Something was whispered and that girl looked back at me, staring daggers.

  I offered a one finger hello.

  I heard Emma giggle.

  I slowly started to smile.

  Maybe I was going to fit right in with the rest of Hidden Creek High.

  Or maybe I was going to end up in serious trouble.

  Chapter 7

  Aira

  I turned the lock exactly as I was supposed to, and it wouldn’t open.

  I made a fist and took a breath, not wanting to make another scene. I told myself to keep it to one outburst per day. And maybe just one enemy created per day. Even I had my limits when it came to burning bridges.

  “Hey, there she is,” a voice said.

  Kailey leaned against the locker next to mine.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Rough start?”

  “About what I expected.”

  “Heard a wild rumor that you took on Mika.”

  “What? Who told you…”

  I saw Emma
approaching.

  She was short like me, but, ohmygod, why she did have to be so pretty? Even her clothes. They were so different from everyone else. Her shorts had flower patches sewn to them. Her top was loose with sequins that anyone else would make look stupid. She looked like a hippie flower girl or something.

  “You know Emma,” I said.

  “Of course I do,” Kailey said.

  “Hey, Aira,” Emma said.

  “Emma,” I said.

  “We’re sort of besties,” Kailey said.

  “Why weren’t you at the beach then?” I asked.

  “I was away at a shoot.”

  “A shoot?”

  “Emma is sort of a model,” Kailey whispered.

  Of course she is.

  “Nice,” I said.

  “I don’t know. I don’t like it. Whatever.”

  I messed with my lock again.

  I pulled the latch.

  It was stuck.

  Fuck me.

  “What do you have next?” Kailey asked me.

  “Science.”

  “Shit,” Kailey said.

  “Shit times two,” Emma said. “I have to go to Mr. Pepper’s class.”

  “Mr. Pepper?” I asked.

  “Hate that guy,” Kailey said. “He teaches history and acts as though he was there.”

  “His name is Mr. Pepper?”

  “No,” Emma said, smiling. “It’s Mr. Peters. But his breath is so spicy from whatever he eats for lunch that if he gets too close it makes your eyes water.”

  “And he loves to get close to Emma,” Kailey teased.

  “Ew. Stop.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like a great class.”

  “Just be careful with Mika,” Kailey said. “She’s brutal. Her and her friends.”

  “She actually has friends?” I asked.

  “It’s usually Mika, Kaci, and Nelle,” Emma said. “Don’t worry, we have your back.”

  The sound of a bell screeched through the halls.

  “Gotta jet,” Kailey said. “Can’t be late again.”

  “Me too,” Emma said.

  We said goodbye and I faced off with my locker again.

  “Come on, you fucker,” I whispered.

  I turned the lock again, triple checking the numbers… 23, 10, 7…

  It still wouldn’t open.

  I stepped back, shaking my head.

  Of all things, a locker was about to get the best of me.

  I sucked in a shaky breath, ready to cry.

  Pull yourself together, Aira.

  I reached for the lock one more time and that’s when a hand was suddenly on top of mine.

  “I’ll do it,” a rough yet sweet voice said.

  I turned my head and looked up.

  It was Weslee.

  Another bell called throughout the halls as I stood frozen, my cheeks on fire, Weslee’s hand tight around mine.

  It was like we were lost in time and space together.

  I felt my bottom lip quivering like I had something to say, but I didn’t.

  My mind tried to play the images of Weslee the last time I saw him. When we were eleven. When he was a tall and skinny kid. When his voice was still kind of high pitched. His hair had been much shorter. No tattoos either. And certainly not the muscles that were next to me right then.

  His eyes were the same. A mix of kind and dangerous.

  “You’re late for class,” he said.

  “I don’t really care right now,” I replied.

  “Neither do I.”

  I tried to calculate basic math in my head. Weslee should have been done with Hidden Creek High by now. Unless… did he miss a year like me?

  Weslee slowly moved his hand from mine.

  We were completely alone in the hallway.

  Like the world had ended and it was just us.

  “Locker stuck?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m putting in the right numbers. I know it.”

  “What’s the combo?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my locker.”

  “You can’t even open it,” he said.

  “And you can?”

  “If you give me the combo I bet you I can.”

  “Bet me what?” I asked.

  Weslee never moved his eyes for a second from me. His dark hair was messy yet it fit him. Oh, god, did it fit him. Just the same as the black long sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms.

  “Whatever you want to bet,” he said. “Give me the numbers so I can help you.”

  I rattled off my combination, trying to understand who I was giving it too.

  Weslee set his attention to my locker. He put in the combination and pulled but it didn’t open.

  “See, I told you it-”

  Weslee gave the locker a quick punch. The sound thundered in the empty hallway.

  I jumped back, surprised by the sudden move.

  And just like that, the locker was open.

  “Got it,” he said. “Now you owe me.”

  “I could have done that myself.”

  “Except you didn’t.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks again.

  “Wes…”

  “Aira,” he said, my name sounding way too good slipping off his tongue.

  “What are you doing after this place?" he asked so cool.

  “Like today or in life?”

  “Today.”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Here’s how it’ll go,” he said. “Your new friends will want to go for a run on the beach. You’ll join them. You’ll gossip about everything that happened today. Typical HCH bullshit. And then they’ll want to go get some avocado or kale smoothies. There’s your escape.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  Weslee closed in on me. “You’d probably rather have a pizza, right?”

  I didn’t respond.

  Weslee grinned.

  Oh, I remember those dimples… look at them…

  He stepped away and kept walking.

  I turned, my jaw ready to hit the floor.

  “Wes?” I called out.

  He stopped.

  “Where…”

  He didn’t answer me.

  He just kept walking.

  I looked at my open locker and let out a long sigh.

  There was something symbolic about it.

  It was stuck. I wanted it open so bad. Now it was open.

  It felt like everything else around me.

  The more I wanted… the closer I got…

  I should have just stayed away.

  But… it was Wes… my first crush... my first love…

  Chapter 8

  Wes

  As I cruised by the cemetery, I turned my head for a second. The stones were nothing but a mixed-up blur but the truth was there. Buried and gone, but never forgotten.

  ‘You think I can ride one of these motorcycles someday, Weslee?’

  ‘Hell yeah, bud. You’ll be a bad ass rolling into school…’

  I throttled my motorcycle, making the big engine growl like a hungry lion.

  I got the hell out of Hidden for a quick ride to clear my head.

  Along the winding roads next to the coast, like I was on the run from the cops. Where there was nothing but freedom and a little bit of time to kill.

  There was only one problem here.

  I looked down and didn’t see hands around the front of my body.

  My rides outside of town and along the coast were best kept for a lucky pretty lady looking for an adventure.

  Only now my mind raced with thoughts of just one person.

  Aira.

  Standing next to her at her locker, seeing what had happened to the girl who once lived next door to me… all those perfect changes…

  And whatever she had hidden about her.

  I knew she left Hidden with her parents because her father stumbled into some serious money. But now she was back. Out
of nowhere too. And she wasn’t with her parents.

  My ride did nothing to calm the thoughts.

  And on top of that I was late for getting to the shop, which meant Pop was going to give me an ear full of shit for it.

  I sped faster than anyone should around the jagged curves as I crossed the line back into Hidden.

  It was maybe ten seconds later when I heard a wizzing sound. There was a quick blur of neon green and black as a street ride flew by me. Those rides were very different than mine. Built differently. Meant for something different.

  And I knew that motorcycle.

  Probably doing over one hundred miles per hour, then suddenly slamming on the brakes and turning sideways. A foot on the road, head turned, an all-black helmet facing me. I had no choice but to slow my ride down. His engine was quiet, purring, while mine rumbled like a crack of thunder waiting for the right time to crack and strike.

  I took my sunglasses off my face.

  I wore a black bucket helmet so my face wasn’t covered like his.

  He flipped up the front of his helmet.

  Our eyes met and there was nothing to say.

  Talking never worked for myself and Ryland.

  We were better off throwing punches. Gathering up our guys and taking our business to the hallways or the streets to settle up. All because of years old secrets.

  Ryland had good reason to hate me the way he did.

  And I had an even better reason to hate him right back.

  He flexed his wrist and his street ride screamed.

  I did the same and my engine growled louder.

  He put his shade back down and peeled away with his big assed back tire leaving fresh marks on the road as he took off.

  That was a clear warning to me.

  And if it had anything to do with Aira, then we were going to have a serious problem.

  Fighting was one thing.

  But when it came to Aira…

  I would put my life on the line to keep her safe from this fucking town.

  I walked into the shop and heard familiar voices.

  I tossed my helmet to one of the benches and saw Jett talking to my cousins.

  Ryker and Walker.

  They were in sleeveless shirts with their hair slicked back from their motorcycle helmets. Cigarettes dangling from their mouths, their dirty jeans hanging low like they always wore them. Everyone who saw them thought they were scummy. And honestly, they were. But family was family. My deadbeat father’s even more of a deadbeat brother had two boys. Then took off. Must have been something in the water or the family genes.