by Jo Cassidy
Someone had read it. Someone knew my secret. What was inside the envelope? A page torn from the journal? A note saying the truth had been revealed and Daddy would be locked away in prison?
Breathing became hard. Dizziness overcame my body, and I swayed where I stood.
"Cora, are you okay?" Jenna's voice sounded beside me. My gaze went to her. "You look like you're about to pass out. Maybe you should sit down."
I lowered myself into my seat and gripped the sides of my desk. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the envelope. Did I dare open it now? Or wait until I was alone in my room?
"It's too much, isn't it?" Jenna sighed and sat down in her seat. "I was going for fun, but maybe it's too little-girl-cute."
"What?" I turned my attention to Jenna.
She pointed to the envelope, her eyes dancing. "I just love glitter. It's a weird obsession, I know." She leaned toward me and whispered. "I even use glitter pens to write in my journal."
I took the envelope into my quivering hands. "This is from you?" Jenna had taken my journal? I didn't want to believe it. She knew how private they were.
Her glossy lips parted in a smile, revealing her braces. "Yep. Open it!"
With my hands shaking, I tore open the envelope with too much force and sliced my finger. Blood pooled on my finger tip.
"Looks like you could use a Band-Aid." Brendon's voice came from the right of me. I glanced up to see him pull one out of his pocket and hand it to me.
"You keep Band-Aid's in your pocket?" Jenna asked. She did her best to make sure her braces didn't show as she talked. She was obsessed with keeping her braces hidden and minimal. Well, only from boys. I didn't understand why.
"Professional hazard." He held up his hand, showing off two bandaged fingers. "I cut myself a lot at work folding pizza boxes."
I stared at his shirt. It had two red circles and a star in the middle.
He glanced down at it. “Fan of the Cap?”
“What?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Captain America.” He pointed to his shirt. “He’s my favorite of all the Marvel gang.” He smirked, a slight smolder in his eyes. “Well, I love Black Widow as well.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, so I turned my attention to the Band-Aid. My hands wouldn't stay still long enough for me to open the packaging on the bandage.
"Uh, why don't I get that for you?" Brendon took the bandage from my hand, his fingers grazing mine. Heat erupted on the spot he’d touched, and I had to hold in a shiver. So that was what it felt like to have his skin touch mine. It was . . . nice.
Jenna snatched the envelope from my hand, the light reflecting off her perfectly manicured nails. The neon pink matched with her wardrobe for the day: pink skinny jeans and tennis shoes, a green argyle top, and dangly pink earrings. She had so much jewelry and layers with her clothing that she could switch it up every day and it looked like a brand new outfit. I just alternated between my five button-down shirts and three pairs of pants. Daddy said I didn’t need more than that.
"Since you're obviously in a weird mood, I'll show you." She held up the card that had been inside the envelope. "I'm having a party for my sixteenth birthday!" She rolled her eyes. "Finally. I swear I'm the only fifteen-year-old left in the tenth grade."
I wanted to let her know I was still fifteen as well, but I couldn’t speak. A party invitation? That's what it was? My nerves subsided, but then started back up again. I'd never been invited to a party before. I shouldn't have gotten so close to Jenna. We couldn't be friends.
Brendon's warm hand wrapped around mine and he placed the bandage over my cut finger. "All better."
My hand tingled from his touch, and suddenly it was hard to breathe again. I gripped onto my desk for additional support.
Jenna slid the card onto my desk. "Keep next Friday open. It's going to be awesome! Music, movies, goodies, and the best part." She pointed to the bottom of the invite. "My parents are letting me do a slumber party! I had to beg and beg and could only invite five friends, but it was worth it."
Brendon snatched the invite from my desk. "Wow, Jenna. I didn't think I'd make it in the top five of your friends, but alright. I'm game."
Jenna reached over me and yanked back the invite. "Very funny, Brendon. No boys allowed." She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "But we can talk about them."
"Just make sure I'm one of them." Brendon winked at me, and my neck and cheeks ignited. The smile left his face. "It was just a joke, Cora. I'm not that bad, am I?"
"I've seen better," Jenna said. She could only keep a straight face for a few seconds before she busted out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand.
Brendon threw the empty bandage packaging at Jenna's head. "You dig me." He knelt next to me. "You doing okay? You're looking real pale."
Words wouldn't form. My mouth went dry. I wrapped my hands tightly around my braid hanging over my right shoulder.
"Listen, if this is about last night," he said, "I didn't mean to get you in trouble with your dad."
Daddy wouldn't want me talking to Brendon, but he'd also want me to make sure no one suspected Daddy's mean side. I worked moisture back into my mouth. "You didn't get me in trouble."
Brendon's eyes landed on my legs. I tensed, realizing he was staring at my knee. Had he noticed Daddy squeeze my knee under the table? Brendon opened his mouth to say something, but the teacher told him to sit down so we could start class.
"You can come, right?" Jenna whispered.
There was no way Daddy would let me. I shook my head and kept my voice low. "I'm sorry, Jenna, but I'll be out of town next weekend. Visiting family." It was the first lie that came to my mind. I didn't have any family aside from Daddy.
Jenna's whole happy demeanor drifted away, replaced by a pout. "What horrible timing." She tapped her lips. "Maybe I can change the date. We can do it the weekend after that."
I quickly shook my head. "Don't change your birthday party for me. That's silly. Look on the bright side. Now you have an open spot and can invite Brendon."
A smile worked its way back onto Jenna. "My parents would kill me." She leaned back so she could look over at Brendon. "He is pretty cute. I can't believe we haven't talked about him before. What do you think? A six? Seven? If I knew his personality better, I could narrow down the number."
I couldn't think anything. No friends. No boys. No fun. That was my life. But Jenna looked at me so expectantly. She'd be sad if I disagreed with her. I'd already let her down once and in a big way. Really, Brendon was cute. Hot even. Probably a ten in my book. If I had been allowed to have a book. "He has nice eyes."
"They almost match yours," Jenna said.
A pang of guilt and excitement struck me. Daddy had set very specific ground rules in allowing me to finally go to public school starting in tenth grade. I'd tried to keep to myself and make no friends. But then I met Jenna. She had such a loving, bubbly personality. She was a firm believer in getting to know someone before making judgments. She saw the good in people even when others couldn't.
I never knew it could be so nice to have a friend. Someone to confide in and laugh with. I almost felt normal. Having her as a friend would be dangerous. Daddy would be livid if he found out. He'd lock me up in the basement and take me out of school.
I thought Jenna and I could just be friends at school. I didn't think about the fact that she might invite me to her birthday party. She said she could only invite five friends and I was one of them. Something rippled inside me. I didn't know what it was or how to describe it. I'd never experienced it before.
Things had shifted. If I intended to keep my secret hidden, I needed to do a few things. One, find out who took my journal. Two, learn what they planned to do with it and how I could get them to stay quiet. Three, not make anyone suspicious that something was wrong. Brendon already asked too many questions. If I could pretend I was Daddy's little girl at home, talk how he wanted, act how he wanted, then I could act at school.
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It would take breaking a lot of rules, but I had to work my way into every suspect's life if I wanted to uncover the truth of the theft.
"Cora?"
I shook out of my trance and turned my attention to the teacher.
She smiled at me. "You're wanted in the front office."
My insides coiled into a tight ball. Had someone found my journal?
Chapter 6
I'd never been called to the front office. I'd never been on the school's radar. So, it couldn't be good.
With one hand tightly wrapped around the strap of my backpack, I strode in the door, doing my best to keep calm. I took long, steady breaths – something I did whenever Daddy was mad at me. My fingers brushed along Husky, his fur soothing my soul.
It was quiet in the front office. No one sat behind the desk, so I didn't know what to do. There wasn’t a bell on the counter, or anything to signal I was there. What did students usually do? Panic tried to rise, but I pushed it down before it could take over.
A man stepped out of a back office. He was tall and wide, with jet black hair and dark brown eyes. Instinctively, I took a step back. Intimidating was an understatement when it came to the man now before me.
"Cora Snow?" he asked in a low, gruff voice. It didn't help the wariness that surrounded me.
"Yes," I managed to get out. My eyes continued to scan the front office, searching for solace, but no one was in sight.
The man held out his large hand. "Mr. Mendoza. I'm the new guidance counselor here."
Guidance counselor? I had no idea what he’d want with me. I shook his hand. His grip was strong and firm. Confident. Opposed to my weak, soft handshake.
"Why don't we speak in my office?" Mr. Mendoza turned and went into his office, expecting me to follow.
A part of me wanted to bolt. I had no idea what he wanted, but it could lead to problems. It meant someone poking into my personal life. I’d never met with a guidance counselor, but he wasn’t what I’d expected. I assumed the counselor would be personable; someone who could put students at ease. The man waiting for me to enter his private office projected the complete opposite.
I couldn’t run, though. Running raised suspicion. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, I stepped into the room.
"Close the door, please," Mr. Mendoza said from his chair. He adjusted his tie that didn't seem natural around his neck.
I did as asked and then sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. I held my backpack against my chest and wrapped my hand around Husky. It would keep me from yanking on my braid.
Aside from the school provided clock, Mr. Mendoza had nothing hanging up in his office. Only a computer, a pad of paper, and a pen were on the desk. He had said he was new. Maybe he hadn't had time to decorate. Or maybe guidance counselors didn’t hang up personal things. I thought there’d at least be a filing cabinet for student records.
What I did know? Mr. Mendoza, sitting uncomfortably in the chair across from me, looked completely out of place. A tiny spark of a connection ignited inside me. I could relate.
"How do you like high school?" He fiddled with the handles underneath his seat until he lifted higher in the air, adding to his larger than life persona.
"It's great," I said. A panic attack wanted to barge in and intrude on our meeting, but I held on tightly to Husky and the fact that Mr. Mendoza was, like me, out of his element. I wondered what had happened in his life to land him in the front seat of a guidance counselor’s office.
He leaned forward and stared at his computer screen with squinty eyes. "You didn't start public school until this year."
So all the student files were electronic, which made sense. I shook my head. "No, sir. I did home school until then." The clock on the wall ticked with every second that passed. My fingers drummed along Husky, following the beat.
"Who taught you?" Mr. Mendoza asked. "Your mom? Dad?"
"My dad." It was partly true. He'd bought all the books and given them to me. I mostly taught myself. But Daddy would help me when I had questions.
Tick, tick, tick.
He sat back in his chair. "Does your mom work?"
"I don't know my mom." Another truth. Being as honest as I could without divulging the entire story was always the best option. "It's just me and dad."
Tick, tick, tick.
"So, he works during the day?" He yanked at his collar. He definitely didn't wear ties often.
"Yes," I said.
Tick.
"You were by yourself during the day, then?" He furrowed his eyebrows, the sternness radiating from him unsettling.
Was that bad? Wrong? Concern sat in his eyes, so I needed to be careful how I answered. "He's a repairman. He'd come home in-between appointments. He'd take me along with him when I was younger."
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
Too many seconds were passing by. Had I answered wrong?
He scratched his goatee. He calmed, but wasn’t completely satisfied. He glanced back at the screen. "You're getting good grades. Almost perfect. So whatever your dad did, it went well."
I smiled, a small breath of relief escaping my lips. "Yes, Daddy is very smart. He taught me all he knows and helped me learn more."
Mr. Mendoza had frowned when I used the word Daddy. I'd recently learned that children stopped saying Daddy when they grew out of the toddler phase. But I'd called him that since he’d first brought me home. It was what he had wanted. What he still wanted.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
"I found something interesting as I was scrolling through student records," he said. Tick, tick. The dark look in his eyes made me squirm in fear. "There seems to be no trace of you before you started public school. No birth records. You have no doctor or dentist records. Nothing that marked your existence. It's like you magically appeared this year."
The clock’s ticks faded away into the background, replaced by a dull thud in my ears. Mr. Mendoza stared at me, waiting for a response. I didn't have one. Telling him the complete truth was out of the question. But how did I explain it all? Daddy had said he'd take care of it. That I'd be safe in public school and wouldn't raise any flags.
The flags were up in full force, viciously whipping in the wind.
"I really need to get back to class," I finally said, my hand tight around Husky.
"Your teacher won't mind." He pulled at his collar again, and I instinctively did the same with mine. "You have nothing to tell me?"
Heat ignited in my ears as they throbbed with my heartbeat. I wanted to unfasten my top button and let some air circulate underneath.
“Or maybe you can’t tell me?” he offered.
I shook my head. Lies were a trap. They created a web, small lies all tangled together, weaving in and out, until the web grew. If one truth slithered in and smacked against the web, every lie would scatter away, broken and messy.
I would not let that happen.
"I'm well taken care of, Mr. Mendoza. Daddy . . . Dad, he looks after me. Gives me everything I need and makes sure I get good grades. I'm lucky to have him for a father. Not every parent cares like he does. He's had to do it all on his own. No help." My hands shook, but not in fear – in intensity. Because I meant every word.
Daddy could be rough and overpowering, but everything he did was out of love. He just wanted the best for me.
"That's good," Mr. Mendoza said.
Every muscle in me relaxed, the tension falling away. I released Husky from my iron grip and smoothed out his fur. The throb in my ears slowly subsided.
"While you have excellent grades," he said, "you should also sign up for some extracurricular activities. They look great on college applications."
The tension flooded back. Afraid of destroying Husky, I gripped the bottom of the chair tightly instead. "I don't have time."
"What keeps you so busy?" Mr. Mendoza asked.
Tick, tick, tick.
"Getting good grades doesn't come easy for me, sir. I spe
nd a lot of my time studying. The rest of my time is spent with family." Daddy being my only family.
He made a note on the pad of paper in front of him. "Well, I still think you should investigate it. Joining one club won't take too much of your time."
"I'll think about it." No. There. I thought about it.
"I'd like to keep seeing you, Cora. The transition from homeschool to public school can be overwhelming." He loosened his tie. "I never could stand these things, but the principal insists I wear them. Thinks they're professional. I think they make me look stiff and unrelatable. Don't you think?"
I shrugged, trying to hide my agreement. "I've never thought about it before."
A small, throaty laugh escaped his mouth. "I'm sure you haven't." He tapped his fingers on the pad of paper. "How are you fitting in here?"
"Fine. I've made a couple friends in my classes." Sort of true. And if somehow Mr. Mendoza told Daddy I said that, I'd just tell Daddy it was to make Mr. Mendoza happy. Which was true.
Tick, tick.
"Do you hang out with these friends outside of school?"
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
I had no idea if these were typical questions from a guidance counselor. I'd never met with one before. "Like I said, I'm busy."
He scribbled something on his pad. "Right. Well, let's plan to meet next week. If that's okay with you."
It wasn't. Mr. Mendoza digging into my life was a bad thing. Terrible. I couldn't have him finding out the truth. Uncovering my secret. Daddy's secret.
"Okay." If I said no, it would only make him suspicious. I was very good at bending the truth. Forcing a smile. I'd stick to that and hopefully appease Mr. Mendoza without causing alarm.
"Good." He stood, smoothing out his tie. "It was nice to meet you, Cora. I'll call for you again next week."