by Emily Walker
REDWOOD HIGH
A Dark High School Romance
Copyright © 2020 by Emily Walker
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 1
I leaned forward, earbuds in place, as I peered out the car window watching the trees and hills go by. The air breezed through my hair. I could feel it’s satisfying sensation tingling at the very root of my scalp. I didn’t enjoy this all the time, or maybe I did, I was just too busy to notice. How could I? We were always caught in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. There has always been something about nature that spoke to me. Whether it was the serenity, the unusual and pure beauty, or the calmness that came with it, I had just always felt at home around nature, yet something about this one irked me.
Perhaps it was because my Mom and I had decided to leave our home in Los Angeles, California, and move to a small town in Virginia called Redwood. As someone who had been born and raised in a big, thriving city, it was a little hard for me to accept the fact that we were making a move to somewhere smaller and quieter.
Then again, I had never really been much of a social kid, nor did I make lots of friends. I was sort of an introvert, always finding social interactions awkward to begin with; that world was my parents’.
My Mom, Elena Dawson, was a social butterfly, one who thrived on society and everything it had to offer. She always attended parties, events, charity galas, and so on, yet she still found a way to manage to be a good mother and a good wife. My father also complemented her since he reveled in the fame that came alongside being a millionaire businessman. They always went to those events together, throwing parties of their own amidst it all, and I had never felt neglected in any way. It was no wonder my Mom had decided to leave LA after my father’s death. She just couldn’t handle staying in that world without her “partner in crime.”
The death of Grant Dawson, my father, was still something I couldn’t grasp, and it had everything to do with the circumstances of his death.
He had woken up from his nap on a Sunday evening, and we had all sat down for dinner. After some banter and a romantic dance with my Mom by the fireplace, he had planted a sweet kiss on my forehead. He announced he was going for a meeting with a business partner of his. Of course, my Mom had been hesitant to let him go that late at night, but he managed to convince her and put her at ease.
When he didn’t return that night, my Mom called the cops, who could only declare him missing after 24 hours, but we didn’t have to wait that long. A few hours later, my father’s car was found at the bottom of a lake, and there was no saving him.
They had written off his death as an accident, blaming it on the massive storm that had occurred that night. Something in my gut kept telling me my father had died under mysterious circumstances, but what could the words of a seventeen-year-old do to sway anyone?
It had been two months, and even though my Mom, so strong and brave, was all smiles as she drove us to our new home, I knew she missed him, and she was broken inside.
“Oh, Katrina, I can’t wait to start this new job. You know I’ve always wanted to be in fashion, right?” My Mom’s calm, angelic voice flowed into my music-free ears.
I rolled my eyes at her attempt to make it seem like everything was fine, but I could see through her, and then I turned to face her with a small smile.
“Yes, Mom, I know,” I replied.
“Don’t give me that look, Katrina,” she coaxed. “I know you’re not as excited as I am to move to Redwood, but I promise you it’s going to be amazing there, okay?”
Her assurances did nothing for me. It wasn’t that I hated the move; it just felt like we were running from everything that reminded my Mom of my Dad, but I didn’t dare say that. It would merely hurt her.
“I know it will be amazing, Mom, we’re going to be together after all.”
I smiled, this time genuinely.
“I love you, Mom, but you really should start calling me Kat now; new town, new life … remember?”
I had been trying to get her to call me Kat since I was five, but she never budged. Hopefully, she would now that we were headed toward a fresh start.
She chuckled instead, her beautiful brown eyes shining with a twinkle and her brown skin glowing underneath the sun. “You are always going to be my Katrina, bebé. It’s such a beautiful name; I don’t know why you insist on shortening it,” she said. “You know, your father chose that name…” Then she went on and on about my father, and I immediately put on music to tune her out.
It wasn’t that I hated listening to stories about my father. It was the fact that she spoke of him like he had been dead for years when it had only been two months, and the fact that she seemed to be over it grated on my nerves.
Maybe it was her way of coping, acting like nothing was wrong, or it had been long enough for us to move on with life, but it wasn’t mine. My father’s death was still so fresh in my mind, and the vast hole his absence had left in my heart wasn’t going to be healed anytime soon.
Memories of him flashed in my head as we zoomed past the sign that said Welcome to Redwood, and instead of letting them go, I embraced them.
Sounds of his boisterous laughter rang in my head. Images of him caring for me, dropping me off at school, kissing my forehead, and mussing up perfectly combed hair flickered through my eyes.
As I listened to The Pine Ridge Boys’ “You Are my Sunshine,” I felt hope bloom within me. Maybe, just maybe, this town would make a difference in my life, and things wouldn’t be so bad.
I leaned back and basked in the warmth of the sun as I looked forward to a new start.
Chapter 2
“Katrina, dear, wake up…we’re here,” came a sing-song voice that roused me from my disturbing sleep.
I had had a weird dream where an unknown masked man was chasing me while continually repeating the words, “You are next” as I ran for my life.
I jolted awake to the sound of my Mom’s voice, happy that I had somehow been released from the grasp of that horrible nightmare.
Opening my eyes to my Mother’s perfect teeth and movie-star smile, I peered out of the car to look around my surroundings. I was met with the sight of a house with a porch, white picket fence, rocking chair, garage, and everything. A small garden peeked out proudly from the side, and I would have bet my entire trust fund that there was a swing set in the backyard. It was the ideal American home and a far cry from the mansion we had lived in, but I had always thought the mansion was simply too big anyway.
I opened the door to the car and stepped out, breathing in the clean air of Redwood while my Mom joined me.
“Oh, I have a good feeling about this place,” she gushed, clapping her hands in excitement while I lugged our suitcases out of the back seat.
If I hadn’t seen her broken down in tears with a bottle of vodka clutched underneath her arm the night before my Dad’s funeral, I would have sworn she couldn’t have cared less about his death. Did she? She never cared about him? Or did she? However, I had seen her that night. I was also a first-hand witness
to how much they had loved each other, so there was no doubt she had been devastated. What amazed me was how fast she seemed to have gotten over it.
We had explored the house while waiting for the moving truck to arrive, and when it finally arrived, I was stationed inside, making sure the boxes were being taken to the correct rooms when I heard my Mother yell for me.
There was something in her voice that I hadn’t heard before, and I was suddenly worried. I hurried out of the house, my Vans squeaking on the floor. I could see my Mom staring at something behind the truck, but I couldn’t see what it was, so I jumped off the porch and ran. By the time I got to her side, I was breathless and had to crouch, hands on my knees and head bent, to catch my breath. I finally raised my head, and my breath caught again at the sight before me.
Standing before my Mother was a boy that seemed to be around the same age as me or a little older. He had on a baseball cap, but I could see a mop of dark hair peeking out from underneath, and he stood with his hands in his pockets, looking me over with interest.
I instinctively put up a hand to tame my long, curly mass of blond hair, feeling a little self-conscious about the fact that my nose was slightly crooked from falling off a friend’s treehouse in middle school. There I was, dusting the smear of dirt off my clothes, painfully aware of the sweat that glistened on my forehead from carrying and arranging boxes. Yes, I knew I was beautiful, but the Mom jeans and dark wrinkled band t-shirt I was wearing, coupled with my tired appearance, did nothing to build my confidence.
Next to this six-foot-tall Adonis, I looked like a scruffy ten-year-old tomboy. I had never felt the urge to dress up as other girls do until this moment. Suddenly, my subconscious began to chastise me for not smacking on at least a little lip gloss and a dab of foundation when we’d gotten up this morning.
I threw a reproachful glance at my Mother, trying to convey the message A warning would have been nice.
She was completely oblivious.
“Katrina, bebé, I wanted you to meet Jake Grayson. He and his Mother are our next-door neighbors.”
My Mom beamed as if she had just told me Christmas came early … and I loved Christmas.
“Kat, Mom,” I mumbled.
“I prefer Kat.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be rude, dear, shake hands,” she said.
Alarmed, I turned to look at the boy, Jake and realized that his arm was outstretched, something I hadn’t noticed before. I felt my cheeks redden as I took his hand, and I could swear I felt a jolt.
Maybe he did too, because his smirk got even more prominent, and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Katrina.”
He drawled my name, intentionally ignoring the fact that I had openly said I preferred it shortened. I glared at him, but he continued, unbothered. “We are going to have so much fun.”
His grip on my hand tightened, his boyish smirk remaining in place. I was sure my entire face was now red while my Mom simply stood there, beaming at our interaction.
It didn’t take being psychic for me to know that Jake Grayson was going to be trouble.
Chapter 3
Monday mornings were my least favorite day of the week; at least I had that in common with the average teenager.
I stood before the mirror, trying so hard to comb my usually soft blond hair, which, for some reason, had a ton of tangles this morning. That and the fact that I had found my favorite Vans chewed by a rat, probably, increased my fear of this turning into a bad day for me.
I considered those two occurrences bad omens because I never had a problem combing my hair regardless of the weather, and I had been wearing those Vans for two years now without ever having an issue.
Ugh, I just knew being the new kid was going to suck. Like his face screamed, ‘I suck!’ or better ‘I am gonna suck.’ Not that I’d ever experienced it, but I had seen how awkward it had been for new kids at my old school to adjust.
A knock on my door made me turn. “Come in,” I said and looked at the mirror once again with a satisfactory nod.
“Bebé, are you done? You are going to be late,” my Mom drawled in that thick Mexican accent of hers as she peered into my room, opening the door halfway.
“I’m done, Mom.” I strolled to the bed and picked up my brown leather satchel. “We can go now.”
She raised a brow at my response, for some reason, and wrinkled her beautifully pointed nose.
“That’s what you’re gonna wear? Katrina, what happened to the clothes I picked out for you?”
I looked down at myself, wondering what she was talking about. I had on a plain white T-shirt and dark skinny jeans paired with my tan Chelsea boots. My hair, which I had managed to untangle into its soft curls, was up in a ponytail. I had on a silver chain with a heart-shaped pendant my Dad had given me when I was twelve. In my opinion, I looked good and ready to go.
However, my Mom, ever the fashionista, thought otherwise. “But it’s your first day, darling, and I left you that cute little dress and those elegant heels I got you. It’s a good thing those Vans of yours got ruined. They were beginning to drive me crazy, and at least now you get to wear your designer boots. I bought those for you eons ago.”
I simply gaped at her. “Mom, did you…?”
An eye-roll followed my unfinished question. “Don’t worry; I didn’t do anything to your precious Vans. It was probably a rat, and I said I would call the exterminators, Bueno?”
“Okay,” I said but still kept a suspicious eye on her before I was satisfied that she hadn’t taken her frustration out on my shoes.
“Did you sleep well?” It was our first night in our new house, and I wanted to know how she was doing.
A broad smile graced her lips. “Oh, honey, I slept wonderfully. I get to start my new job today too, so I couldn’t be more excited.”
I sighed. “Mom…” I just couldn’t believe she could be that happy, considering the circumstances.
She walked into the room and placed both manicured hands on my cheeks, her bronze skin a slight contrast from my cream-colored complexion. “I’m fine, mí hija, you don’t have to worry. Like I said before, our life here is going to be simply amazing.” She kissed my forehead and pulled me into a hug.
“I love you, Mom,” I mumbled from being squished in her arms.
“Té amo, bebé,” she whispered before stepping back and brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You’re so beautiful, Katrina, and your eyes, my God, they shine so brightly, just like your father’s. You are all your father, my sweet girl.”
I beamed at the comparison, but deep down, I knew there were some similarities between my Mother and me also; they just weren’t as vivid.
Standing at five feet four, I got my height from her, unlike my father, who had practically been a giant at six foot five. Another feature I got from my Mother was my figure.
Though not as fully developed as her mouth-watering curves, mine was a little too daring for a seventeen-year-old, although they sat well with my frame. The rest of me was from my Dad, except he had pale skin, while my cream skin was a mixture of both parents.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She nodded, her smile still in place. “Come on. You have to eat breakfast before I drop you off.”
I groaned; I should have known. If there was anything my Mom loved, it was cooking and feeding people, so instead of arguing, which I knew would get me nowhere, I trailed after her obediently and sat at the table to eat the perfect English breakfast she had whipped up.
“When do I get a car, Mom? I wouldn’t want you to get to your new job late because you have to drop me off every morning.”
I watched her closely, so I saw the shadow that fell briefly on my Mom’s face. “I’m perfectly fine with dropping you off at school every morning, Katrina. I think you’re going to be fine without a car for now,” she said, putting her smile firmly back in place.
“But Mom, we talke
d about this,” I protested. “You promised to get me one when I began my senior year.”
“I changed my mind, okay? You don’t need a car.” Her sharp tone cut through the air around us, causing my spine to go rigid.
I nodded, and the rest of our breakfast was eaten in silence.
Twenty minutes later, my Mom’s BMW rolled into the Redwood High School parking lot. As I reached to open the door, I felt her hand rest on my arm.
I turned to look at her. “Yes, Mom?”
Her face took on a remorseful look. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier, Katrina. It’s just I don’t know this town that well, and I need to be sure it would be safe enough for you to drive around in before I got you a car.”
I placed my hand over hers, understanding the real reason she had snapped. After all, my father’s car had ended up off the road and at the bottom of a lake.
“It’s okay, Mom, I understand,” I reassured her with a smile and a quick kiss on her cheek before opening the door and stepping out.
“Katrina!”
I turned back.
“Make friends, okay?”
I nodded, not so sure of myself before striding toward the entrance.
Make friends, huh? That was the one thing I sucked at the most.
Chapter 4
My head was spinning, and it had everything to do with the piece of paper I had clutched in my hand. I adjusted the strap of my satchel and walked down the hall for what seemed like the millionth time. How hard could it be to find Room 401?
It would have been nice if the receptionist had given me directions alongside my schedule. Instead, the red-headed woman who couldn’t be bothered had merely handed the paper to me as her gaze focused on the computer game she had been playing.
“Ugh,” I groaned out in frustration, but then I spotted a sign that pointed the way to a row of rooms containing 401.
Following the sign, I scanned for 401, but I stopped when I reached one particular room, not because it was the right one, but because of its occupant.