Rocking Kin (The Lucy & Harris Novella Series Book 3)

by Terri Anne Browning

  Ugh, I thought, grimacing at the black skirt that wouldn’t reach my knees and the white polo shirt that went with it. There was a black blazer hanging from the back of my closet door. If I was going to have to wear the skirt and blazer, the least they could do was let me wear my own top. So instead of putting on the white polo, I reached for my gray Metallica T-shirt and then pulled on a pair of boots. I didn’t return to the bathroom, just picked up the black messenger bag that had my name and my new school’s emblem on it.

  Downstairs I made myself a slice of toast, smothering it in butter and strawberry jam before grabbing an individual sized orange juice. Stuffing the toast in my mouth, I picked up the juice and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door where my stepsisters were waiting for me.

  If you looked at them and then looked at me you would know that there was no chance we could be related by blood. My two stepsisters, Georgia and Carolina, were dressed to kill. Literally. They had so much makeup, hair product, and perfume on that I was sure something or someone had been killed along the way. Maybe a few innocent animals, probably a few college kids who had been guinea pigs for some company to test their products on because the college kids had needed some extra money. All so my two stepsisters could look as beautiful and fake as they did right at that moment.

  When they saw me walking toward them, their eyes narrowed. “Mother let you out of your room without your hair done?” Carolina demanded. Of the two she was the younger one, perhaps the smarter one as well. But no less stuck-up than her sister. Georgia, who was my age, was an exact replica of her mother. Down to the cool tone of her voice.

  I shrugged as I continued to chew my toast. I only fixed my hair for school for one of two reasons: picture day, or prom. Neither were happening today so there was no way I was doing more to my hair than had already been done. “Who’s driving?” I asked, talking with my mouth full.

  Georgia gave me a disgusted look but raised the set of keys in her hands. “I am, since Carolina doesn’t have her license yet. She’s only fifteen.”

  “Okay, cool. I’m ready if you are.”

  Georgia gave me another once over, sighed disgustedly and opened the door. Outside, the September sunshine was glaring down at me and I reached for my sunglasses from my messenger bag as I followed them to the little sports car already waiting in front of the house. I didn’t attempt to take the front passenger seat. For one, I didn’t want to make conversation with either of them. It was blatantly obvious neither liked me and, believe me, the feeling was mutual. Less than one day on the West Coast and I could already tell that not getting to know my two stepsisters would not have been a regret I would have minded having on my conscious for the rest of my life.

  From the backseat of the very expensive sports car, I learned a whole lot about my stepsisters, though. One being that Georgia could not drive for beans. On more than one occasion I closed my eyes and prayed to whatever god still listened to me that I would get to school in one piece. Another thing was that Carolina could text one conversation while talking to her sister at the same time, but apparently Georgia could not drive and talk at the same time. I learned that neither of them had very good taste in music as they argued over which satellite station they would listen to. My poor ears were tortured with the sounds of some R&B dude as we pulled into a spot in the student parking lot that said it was reserved for Malibu Academy’s head cheerleader.

  Really? A reserved spot for the head cheerleader? What the hell was a head cheerleader anyway? Did that mean she was the captain? The president of the cheerleading society? Wait, was there such a thing as a cheerleading society?

  I’d have to remember to ask Angie later.

  I climbed out of the back of the little car that would have sent Caleb into a fit of hysteria over the way Georgia had just driven it. Caleb was an engineering major, planned on becoming an automotive-designer, and loved his collection of fast toys that he had at our Virginia house. My stepbrother would have been raging had he seen the way Georgia had nearly taken out not only a mailbox and a stop sign, but a freaking water hydrant in the span of ten minutes.

  “I’ll show you to the office,” Carolina offered as she waited for me to get climb out of the back seat.

  “No, thanks. I got this,” I called over my shoulder as I put my Beats earbud in my left ear and turned on some actual music to soothe the pain of having to hear crap music on the trip to school. Seether filled my left ear and I sighed in relief as I entered the building.

  Fifteen minutes later, as I stood in front of the secretary with all the documents that I’d been told to produce, I was already wishing I were back in Virginia. Jillian had called my cellphone not ten seconds after I had entered the building raging because I had left the house without my hair fixed or any makeup on. The principal had spotted me as soon as I had entered the office and I’d been forced to endure a five-minute lecture on why everyone had to wear white polo shirts under their blazers, and was made to promise to wear the correct garment the next day.

  To top it off there were no extracurricular classes open that I was interested in. Thankfully, however, the secretary had promised me that she would work me into the school newspaper for my third-period class. If I couldn’t take the poetry class, at least I could do some kind of writing.

  Finally the older woman handed me my class schedule and a map of the school. “Your first class has already started, so hurry along. If you need to make any changes to your schedule make sure you do so by the end of the week or this one will be filed as final.”

  Picking up the sheets of paper, I glanced at the schedule and tried to refrain from rolling my eyes as I saw that it was trigonometry. Boring. I’d already taken trig back in Virginia, but obviously East Coast trig was so much different that West Coast trig and I had to learn it all over again.

  The halls were empty as I made my way to my first class. It took almost five minutes but I finally found the designated classroom and opened the door. As I stepped inside, the class became silent. The teacher, who had been standing at the front of the class asking a question, paused long enough to look at me.

  “Can we help you?” he asked in a bored tone.

  “I’m McKinley Montez,” I informed him as I stepped toward him, offering him the schedule so that he could confirm I was in the correct room.

  The teacher’s eyes widened and he gave me another once over before accepting my schedule. I knew he couldn’t be surprised that I was Scott Montez’s daughter. Malibu Academy was full of celebrity brats. So what was the big deal about me? Maybe because I looked nothing like my high profile father? Or was it because I’d never been in the tabloids with my father and no one had actually seen what I looked like until my mother’s death? Scott had played Abby’s death up to the media and had made my life even more hellish from the moment my mother had passed away.

  I was one hundred percent my mother’s daughter with my long willowy body, dark red hair, and big blue eyes. My skin tone was alabaster and, yes, I did in fact have some curves. No, they were not plastically enhanced like my step-monster’s were. If asked, I would admit that I was cute, but I wouldn’t say that I was necessarily beautiful.

  “I’m Mr. Blankenship. Go ahead and take your seat, Miss Montez.”

  I shrugged and took the only available seat, which was two rows over from the door and three chairs back. I kept my eyes on my desk until I was seated, then pulled out my notebook and a pen in case I needed to take notes, but I figured I was just going to be doodling until class was over.

  As Mr. Blankenship went back to his lecture, I heard a few whispers and giggles from behind me and gritted my teeth. Two seconds in my first class and I was already getting laughed at. Great. Rolling my eyes at yet another giggle from right behind me, I put an ear bud in my left ear and focused my eyes ahead so that I at least gave the impression I was paying attention. Wasn’t like I was going to hear anything out of my right ear anyway. I’d lost all hearing in it when I was a toddl
er. I’d had ear infection issues that had led to having to get tubes, but not before I’d completely lost all hearing in my right ear.

  If trig was boring, then my second class was a snooze fest. History was not my favorite subject. If anything it was at the top of my list of classes to torture me with. I was hoping for a seat near the back, but of course there wasn’t one. Instead I got stuck smack dab in the middle of everyone. As I took the seat, I felt everyone’s eyes drilling into me. I wanted to ask what they were looking at, but of course I didn’t. It was too soon to start showing my true colors. I didn’t want to freak them out with how outspoken I tended to be. Not yet at least.

  The bell rang and the teacher, Mrs. Crane, stood from behind her desk where she had been watching everyone dispassionately and started to lecture in her coma-inducing monotone. I really wanted to put my earbud back in, but history wasn’t exactly my favorite subject. As much as I hated it, I had to pay attention in this class.

  For a few minutes.

  “Hey,” I heard someone from behind me whisper, but I ignored them at first.

  “Hey, you. Montez.” A balled up piece of paper landed on my desk and I had no choice but to acknowledge the person behind me and to my right.

  Have you ever looked at someone for the first time, and in the moment your gazes meet realized that this person was going to be a major part of your life? I have had that feeling twice in my life before that moment. The first time was when I was four and I met Angie and Caleb for the first time after my mom and Carter had been dating for a few weeks.

  The second time…

  Well, I didn’t want to think about the second time I’d had that feeling. What I had thought was going to be the most important person in my life had destroyed my heart just weeks after my mother had been given the devastating news that she wasn’t going to last the rest of the year.

  But in the instant I met those dark eyes, I knew that this chick was going to be my new best friend.

  When I saw the girl seated there I blinked again, sure that I was seeing things. But no. She remained the same when I opened my eyes for the second time. To say this girl was beautiful would have been an understatement. She wore very minimal makeup that highlighted her nearly black eyes and long lashes. There was some product in her crazy curly hair, but that was to tame the mass of rich dark perfection. The only imperfection was the slight scar just above her lip and at the very bottom of it, but that just only added to her beauty in an odd way.

  “What?” I whispered back at her.

  “What lunch do you have?”

  I glanced back at my schedule. “First lunch.”

  She grinned. “Good. Wait for me after class.”

  I frowned but she just turned her attention back to Mrs. Crane and her lecture. Shaking my head, I tried to concentrate for a few more minutes before the teacher’s voice became to much and I put my Beats earbud back in. I pretended to pay attention while skimming over the chapter she was discussing and tapping my foot to the new OtherWorld single that had just recently been released.

  Chapter 3

  Kin

  I took my time packing up my messenger bag when the bell finally rang at the end of history. A glance over my shoulder showed me that the beautiful curly haired brunette was still packing away her things. So I waited until she was on her feet before standing. When she turned toward me I realized I was taller than her by at least a few inches, but that wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to. I felt freakishly tall at five foot eleven inches.

  As we left the room together, my new friend offered me her hand. “I’m Lucy.”

  “McKinley. But you can call me Kin.” I tossed my messenger bag over my shoulder. I only let those closest to me call me Kin, but I already knew that Lucy and I were going to be close.

  “I heard about your mom,” Lucy said as we passed a bay of lockers. “Sorry for your loss.”

  My jaw tightened. I’d tried not to think about my mom all day and for the most part I’d succeeded. But now she was forefront in my mind. “Thanks.”

  “Shit, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lucy sighed. “Way to go, Lu. Try to make friends with the chick and you end up alienating her.”

  My jaw loosened and I nearly grinned at my new friend, all thoughts of crying evaporating. “Are you seriously talking to yourself?”

  She grimaced. “Yeah. Coping mechanism. My shrink says it’s healthy. I think it just makes me look like I need to be in a psych ward with a straightjacket strapped on.”

  “O-kay.” The grin broke free and I couldn’t help but shake my head at her. “So, is the lunch any good here? It isn’t that vegan crap, is it? I need red meat and grease.”

  My subject change instantly put Lucy back at ease. “The lunch here is high end. As in, world class chefs from Italy, France, and Japan. There is a vegan selection, but there is a lot more to choose from than that. But you aren’t going to find any grease on the menu, and red meat? Only on Fridays.”

  As we walked I noticed several people stopping to stare while I walked next to Lucy. Some eyes lingered on me, but it seemed the braver of the onlookers kept their gazes on Lucy. My new friend, however, seemed oblivious to everyone. Keeping her eyes on me as we walked into the cafeteria and picked up our trays, she explained the best foods to go after and which ones to avoid at all costs.

  Once we had our meals—mine was grilled chicken strips and sweet potato tots while Lucy had Greek yogurt, half a club sandwich on wheat bread and some carrot sticks—I stopped to look around for somewhere to sit. Without a word Lucy led me to a table in the back that was completely empty. Glancing around, I saw that almost every table was overflowing with students, but this one table? It was empty?

  And the stares just kept coming.

  “Do I have something on my face?” I asked Lucy as I took my seat beside her with my back to the wall so that I could people-watch.

  Lucy frowned, then followed my gaze to the people around us. Sighing, she opened her bottle of Voss water and took a small sip. “Maybe I should warn you. I’m kind of the oddball here.”

  Her confession didn’t even faze me. If this chick was odd then I was mental, because honestly, she was the only one who had spoken to me today besides my stepsisters when we had first arrived at this freaking over-the-top, expensive private high school. But still, my curiosity was piqued. “What’s that supposed to mean?” To look at her she seemed above normal to me. Exceptionally beautiful, nice, obviously smart from the intelligence shining in her eyes.

  “Well, it’s not me, per se, but my family.” She sighed again and picked up her cup of yogurt. “Everyone here is a kid of a celebrity in some shape or form. Like Piper over there?” She nodded her head to a girl who was sitting at a table crowded with a mixture of guys and girls, but honestly, to me, she looked like she was all alone in the world the way she was eating her apple and reading something on her Kindle. “Her mom is some kind of princess, both literally and figuratively. Her mom does some reality show about being royal. Thinks she’s the next Kardashian or some crap… And Brody? His dad is a famous soccer player in England, but his mom lives here.” Lucy’s head inclined toward a table several yards to our left and I saw a boy who was maybe my age with the darkest hair I’d ever seen in my life and a face full of freckles. It should have looked odd, but surprisingly it didn’t. Maybe it was the smile on his face as he winked at the girl sitting on the opposite side of his table.

  “There are politicians’ kids here. Sports stars, pop stars, supermodels and, you name it, I’m sure that there is at least one kid here who has a parent in the movie biz. Much like you, I guess, since your dad is the top director these days and only does a few movies. And then you have me…” She grimaced and took a bite of her yogurt.

  “So what do your parents do?” I raised a brow, more curious by the minute.

  “My dad’s a Demon.”

  It was a day for lots of blinking. “A demon? As in he’s demonic and worships the devil or whatever the crap the
y do? He has superpowers and you can turn into some scary chick with horns and a tail?”

  That produced a laugh from my new friend. “No. Not that kind of demon. He’s the drummer for Demon’s Wings…”

  I’m sure she would have said more, but my scream stopped her. “Holy crap!” I turned in my chair and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You are LUCY THORNTON!”

  It was Lucy’s turn to blink, but she didn’t get as far as opening her mouth again before a firm hand touched my shoulder and my head snapped up. “Release her. Now.”

  My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I got a closer look at the man standing over me. If you’ve seen bodybuilders in suits, then you might begin to understand what the beast of a man who was staring down at me with cold, emotionless eyes right then looked like. His hair was cut short, as if he were in the military. His eyes darkened and narrowed on me as if I planned on chopping Lucy’s head off and scooping out her insides to do some kind of voodoo spell on the entire school. Veins bulged out of his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt and suit jacket.

  “Um… Okay. Okay. Sorry.” I lifted my hands, leaving them there in an ‘I surrender’ stance.

  Lucy grimaced. “It’s okay, Marcus. Kin was just really excited. She wasn’t going to murder me.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Marcus kept his eyes on me while he directed his question to Lucy.

  “Yes. I’m fine. If I need you, I will scream. Don’t worry.”

  After another tense moment Marcus backed away and then disappeared as if he had a secret passage to hide in. I hadn’t seen him coming, but it was obvious he had to have been watching Lucy like a hawk. To hide my discomfort, I picked up a chicken strip with my fingers and dunked it into the container of ranch dressing I’d snatched from the salad bar. “Sorry.”