My Keeper

My Keeper

Book One

By Brenda Hickey

My Keeper

Copyright © 2016 by Brenda Hickey

Smashwords edition

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This novel is a work of fiction. All of the characters, events and organizations within this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE: Narcs

CHAPTER TWO: Fuzzy-stringy-pulling-thingy

CHAPTER THREE: Blood lust

CHAPTER FOUR: The Truth

CHAPTER FIVE: Not Again

CHAPTER SIX: Only Human

CHAPTER SEVEN: Training

CHAPTER EIGHT: Dreams and Wings

CHAPTER NINE: Dreams without Wings

CHAPTER TEN: Brother and Others

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Betrayed

CHAPTER TWELVE: Jump

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Serve and Protect

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Others

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Broken

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Stranger Things

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Seeing is Believing

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Party time

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Stolen

CHAPTER TWENTY: Taken

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: To be or Not

CHAPTER ONE

Narcs

Drumming my fingertips on my desk wasn't making time go by any faster. My eyes glanced from the dusty black and white clock on the wall to the cell phone hidden on my lap. If time could go any slower, I was sure I’d see Mr. Mullins, who was passing out graded essays, moving in slow motion. The beige walls of my English class were closing in on me. Even worse, the continuous drone of the emergency lighting system was getting on my nerves. Lately, even the faintest of noises were sensitive to my ears.

What's up with you, Carly? Bree whispered out of earshot of Mr. Mullins

Nothing, I lied.

Actually, I wasn't sure what bothered me. I felt off, and I couldn't put my finger on it. Except for the rumors circulating school and my parents drifting apart, what did I have to complain about? Plenty, I told myself. Fortunately, I didn't have to complain to Bree about any part of my dismal life. Because one thing was certain: Bree knew me better than I knew myself.

Mr. Mullins slapped my essay down on my desk with a hard thwack. The sound startled me and echoed around the quiet room. Of course, everyone turned to gawk at me and snicker, except for Bree.

Assholes, Bree murmured.

What's that, Miss Nolan? Mr. Mullins inquired.

Nothing, Mr. Mullins, just clearing my throat, Bree lied, and gave me an apologetic glance.

Mr. Mullins’ hand lingered flat against my paper. He was so close, his nauseatingly strong cologne wafted up my nostrils and burned so bad my eyes watered.

You can do better, Miss Travers.

Mr. Mullins raised his hand, and I saw the big fat C written in red ink plastered on the front page. Actually, red-pen markings cluttered the page. I sank a little in my chair.

Carly, you have a brilliant mind. Use it. Mr. Mullins spoke verbatim the words he'd written above my essay.

Hmm. All I could think to say was, You can grade better, Mr. Mullins. Giving him a halfhearted grin, Mr. Mullins shot back a don’t-mess-with-me look.

My grade point average had never been lower than a 3.5, so I could have done better. Mostly because I didn’t have a life. No dating, no driving, and there wasn't a sport out there screaming my name. Except for passing the written driving permit, I had nothing exciting under my belt. Perpetual teenage limbo; that was my life. Staring down at my paper, I tried to ignore the sideways glances and whispers. What the heck, I wasn't going to kick myself over one mediocre grade.

Jacob Dressler, who constantly self-proclaimed Tourette's syndrome, coughed out "slut" and the entire class broke out into laughter. My face flushed red hot, and all I could do was duck my head. Stupid rumors, I thought.

You shouldn't talk about your mom that way, Dressler! Bree shouted at Jacob. The class roared even louder.

Nolan and Dressler, out of my class now! Mr. Mullins shouted, his face red with anger. Unless each one of you want to write me another essay overnight, I suggest you keep your mouths shut! he added.

Bree stopped at the doorway and mouthed, "I'll meet you in art," then smiled and walked out.

Hell, it was the beginning of senior year and already the rumors were flying. Bree had always been my mouthpiece, always taking up for me, and glued to my side most of the time. She appeared angelic with her baby blonde curls and warm hazel eyes, but her tongue was sometimes sharp and snake-like. She could be straightforward to the point of offensive and about as delicate as a thorn bush, but she was my thorn bush. Feeling fortunate to have her in my life was an understatement. Bree was my one and only friend.

I wondered for a moment if Mr. Mullins would smother me, either with his cologne, or more probable, with one of his boring lectures on creative writing. Luckily, the bell rang. Not only did I jump from my seat in a hot second, but I made it to the door and opened it in another. As I rounded the corner, I glanced back, and Mr. Mullins stood with his finger poised in the air, his mouth agape, and ready to spew words of wisdom at me. He looked extremely disappointed. Bullet dodged, I thought.

As I hit the hallway, there were students pouring out of doorways like a faucet on full blast. About three steps in, I felt a hard smack to each side of my butt cheeks. Hey! I complained, nearly dropping my backpack.

Two freshman boys, whose names I didn't know, were running away. They dodged and bobbed through the crowded corridor, laughing at the top of their lungs. Feeling eyes on me, I looked around to find girls sneering their noses, boys laughing, pointing, and retelling their friends who had missed the action. The usual, I thought. Duck your head and keep walking, I told myself. Then my glare fell upon Hunter Brewster, who was staring at me. I was sure he'd orchestrated the whole incident. He adjusted himself, letting his hand linger at his groin as he stared with a pathetic grin and nodded.

Jerk, I whispered, and ducked my head. Stupid rumors, I thought again.

Further down the hall students were hooting and hollering, which got my attention. One boy, who smacked my butt, was flung high against a locker. Standing on my tip toes, I tried to get a better angle on the scuffle taking place, but there were too many students blocking my view. Internally, I smiled. Even though I'd never want to see anyone hurt, there was something about fast karma that brought me delight. Lowering my gaze back to the floor, I hurried to meet up with Bree.

Art was an elective I was glad I'd chosen for my first semester. Not that I was a great artist; I'd be considered fair at best. But, with Collin Greer in the class, my inspiration stayed peaked. Bree called him BOS, and he had no idea it stands for buns-of-steel. As crushes go, Collin was mine and had been for the last three years. He didn't know how I felt about him. I'd never even spoken to him because I was a big chicken. I'd often catch him smile at me. His seductive baby blue eyes were unnerving and always summoning me into his arms. I would stroke his long black hair and twist my fingers through the delicate waves at the ends, and then he’d kiss me. That was just my delusional fantasy. Honestly, I'd never felt shy; Bree would disagree. Still, when it came to Collin Greer, my inept sensibilities took over, and I either turned my head or walked away. There was something about him that stirred me from within. A draw from somewhere deep inside. He exuded passion, mystery and a little darkness. He was the reason I got up every morning, applied makeup, and went to bed early, just so I could get up and do it all over again. Sad he would never know it.

Although Collin didn't appear to be shy, it was strange; I'd never seen him raise a hand to answer one solitary question in three years. For that matter, I'd never seen him turn in an assignment. It was downright weird. Plus, you would think in a gossip-filled school like Valley High there would be at least one negative comment circulating the campus about Collin. And I can relate to gossip on a wicked level, but everyone adores him, including me. There was one thing I considered negative on Collin’s part: he was hooked up with my living nightmare, Jessica Doolittle. She was hot, and she knew it. It seemed everyone admired her too, me not included. She had inherent flaws, and ‘bully’ was at the top of a long list. She had made my life hell for the last three years. Nevertheless, I had the best seat in art, directly behind Collin. Glad he couldn’t see my daily butt ogling.

Oh my gosh, if I have to sit through another one of Principal Faulkner's lectures on how to conduct myself in class, I may shoot myself. Or better yet, you shoot me, Bree said at the doorway of our art class, giving me a pleading look.

Sorry, Bree, I don’t own a gun. Plus, what kind of best friend would I be if I shot you? I muttered.

Carly— Bree cocked her head to the side— you know I’d do it for you if you asked me to. What are friends for if not that? she offered.

And that’s why I love you, Bree. I snagged her free arm and led her into art.

At least in art, my view was great. We made our way through the brightly lit room to the back of the class. The smell of clay and paint pervaded the space. Misshapen clay pots and vases lined a display table along a row of tall windows. Wooden tables and easels were haphazardly situated throughout the room. Last year’s artwork still hung on the back wall. Everyone was either talking, or working on their projects. I left Bree to gather my canvas and paints.

I was painting a landscape of a house and garden where we used to live. A beautiful place on the coast of Connecticut and one of the best times of my life. My parents could make anything grow and flourish, except their marriage. The smell of gardenias and violets lingered in my memories. The roses and sea air were the best. I could still taste the salt on my lips, hear the call of the seagulls at dawn, and feel my toes nestled in the warm sand in the summer. Most importantly, we were happy, all of us. The reason for painting my memories was to gift the piece to my parents for Christmas. Maybe remind them of a happier time. I tried not to think about their sad eyes, or the nonexistent conversation at the dining room table, or all the late nights at the office and hospital. I didn’t want to know what the next step was. Still, the word divorce crept into my head. I shook my head, trying to banish the thought away. Thankfully, Bree saved me as usual.

Hey, you, Bree whispered, and tapped me on the shoulder. Look who just walked in. She jerked her head toward the easel in front of mine. Killer BOS.

Yep, she saved me again, I thought. The last thing I needed was to have a meltdown in class.

Hmm, just who I needed to see, I whispered in agreement. Collin's sultry baby blue eyes made contact with mine as he turned to me and smiled warmly. On cue, I ducked my head and felt the red rising in my cheeks. Ignoring the stirring in my stomach, I mixed my paints while Bree uncovered her award-winning sculpture.

I shook my head at Bree and her contemptuous piece. That thing is hideous, I chided.

I know, right! Bree admitted enthusiastically.

She was also gifting her project to her parents. An ashtray. The funny thing is: Bree is totally against smoking and is doing it as a joke. The punch line: the ashtray is nearly as big as an end table and in the shape of a coffin. Subtle, not even, but that is very much Bree, I thought.

What are we doing on Friday? Bree questioned without even a glance at me. She sprayed the clay with water.

The usual. I didn’t need to look at her to figure what was coming next.

Oh, I see. A limo ride around Louisville. Dinner on the waterfront. You with— she jabbed me in the arm and winked toward Collin— "aka BOS. I'll be with pirate Johnny Depp. Add a little sexy dancing at Fourth Street Live. We can't forget the make-out session in the park under a cloudless moonlit sky. Oh, and the best part, your parents won't be home, which means a little touchy-feely and the clothes start..."

I cut in. Yeah, pretty much nothing. I sighed, mixing a little white and green together to make a shade of lime. I’m guessing it’ll be a movie or another round of crazy eights, if you're up to it?

Bree made a throaty Ugh, and kneaded the clay like it had wronged her in some way. Carly, if you and I don’t get a life, I’m afraid we’ll have to crawl in this coffin and bury ourselves. Actually, if I keep hanging out with you, I will die of boredom. She gave me a big toothy grin.

Me, seriously? If I did things you perceive to be cool, I’d end up in jail, or worse. Oh wait, I am in jail, I said sardonically. I'm seventeen. I bugged my eyes at her.

If I had the things you have, I’d definitely become a class-A snob. Bree ticked off one finger at a time. Huge house, pool, hot tub, in a totally rocking neighborhood. You know, if you can’t handle it... She trailed off.

Those things are yours too, and you know it. I smiled. What's up with the snob comment, though? I didn’t give her time to answer. If anything, you’d end up in jail when one of your neighbor snobs looked sideways at you. I rolled my eyes at her.

What? Bree gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look. I haven’t done one illegal thing in six months. She raised her nose in the air like a total snob, pursed her lips, and pinched her chin. "Except for that one photo of Jessica Do-Doolittle that I posted on Instagram." She giggled.

Bree, that’s not illegal. Try mean and on the verge of cruel, but not illegal. I raised my brows at her and smiled.

Well, let’s not forget why, and who I did that for, shall we. Bree raised her own brows at me, without the smile.

I don’t need you to take up for me, Bree. I didn’t even turn to her this time. I can take up for myself. I spoke almost too quietly. Bree heard me perfectly though and came back with a loud animated laugh, leaning back and swatting her stomach.

I was literally saved by the ringing bell and Mrs. Olive walking into the classroom. That was two bullets dodged in a matter of minutes.

Moving from Connecticut when I was eight had to be the worst period of my life. My mother took a position at University of Louisville Medical Center, in Kentucky, as one of their attending physicians in the emergency department. My businessman father was proud of her and embraced the move. I was proud of her too, but it was obvious my opinion on the move didn’t count. Eventually, Louisville grew on me. It’s a beautiful city. Nestled up against the Ohio River, the city stands magnificently above the water. The waterfront was always my favorite place. My dad said it was the bourbon that did it for him. My mom's favorite place to go was the Kentucky Derby. Even though she had only taken me there once, the horses at Churchill Downs always excited her, and she’d been many times. Louisville’s got it all, and I learned to love it. After all, that is where I’d found Bree. She had taken me under her wing. We met at a local skating rink where she knocked me down and said, Watch where the hell you're going. Obviously she saw something in me, because she immediately turned around to help me up, and we've been best friends ever since.

When high school rolled around, Bree gave Valley High School my address so she could attend school with me. Otherwise, she would have had to go to a different school district. She actually lived about five miles away. We didn’t see any harm in it. My parents didn’t mind, and hers never really cared what she did. Which was great for me, but at the same time it made me sad for her. I always felt a marked resentment from her parents. They looked at me with contempt, and I didn't know why. Bree never talked about her lack of parental guidance, but I knew it bothered her. Thankfully, my parents made up the difference; they loved Bree, and she has been the sister I never thought I'd have. Taking up for me gave Bree delight, and I let her do it. Who was I to take away her sunshine? At least that's what I told myself

Hence Jessica Doolittle, Collin Greer’s girlfriend. Jessica hated me and made it clear in no uncertain terms. The rumors were the worst. So far, I’d given the entire basketball team hand jobs in the boy’s bathroom. I had sex with my cousin, and of course, I can’t forget about the banana rumor. Everyone thought I was a slut. Not only with the entire male population, but apparently with fruit as well. I’d never even gotten to first base. Not unless I counted the time Drew Simpson dared me to kiss his butt when we were ten, and that was through a thick pair of jeans. I hadn't done one solitary thing to piss Jessica off. I couldn't figure out why she hated me so much. Bree said, She's a bitch with a capital ITCH. I guess that description was good enough for me.

Hey, look at that. Bree nudged me and motioned with her head at Collin, who was bending over picking up his pencil off the floor.

I came around the side of my painting and lowered my hands in a mocking attempt at some air butt squeezing. Just as my hands were in the squeezing motion, Jessica walked into the room. Her glare was heavy on me, and I ducked back behind my painting. I’d definitely been caught. There would be repercussions. I heard Bree say bitch under her breath. Shushing her, I peeked up over my painting and saw Jessica whispering in Collin’s ear, but she was fixed on me. I would have been dead if her eyes threw real daggers.

Miss Doolittle, shouldn’t you be in your own class? Mrs. Olive said as she peered over her red-frame reading glasses.

Yep, I’m out of here, Mrs. Olive, Jessica said in a sickeningly sweet voice, her hatred still bearing down on me.

I never understood why Jessica was so contemptuously cruel. I was always reticent about my feelings for Collin. That couldn’t have been her reason for hurting me, because Bree was the only one who knew how I felt about him. Bree held all my secrets, and I trusted her reverently. Jessica eyed me once more before she left the room. It made me wonder what the next rumor would be. I guessed it didn't matter; the damage was done. What could one more rumor do? Just completely destroy me, I thought. What Collin saw in her, besides her perfectly flawless skin, was beyond me. They always sat close together whispering in each other’s ear. Maybe blonde hair and brown eyes turned him on? Perhaps he loved her award-winning personality? Whatever the case, her muddy brown eyes oozed with hatred. Bree told me I was so much cuter, and he was a jerk for not wanting me over her. That wasn’t happening any time, ever.

I put away my paint and washed up. Glancing over, I caught Bree shaking her head at me.

Where are you off to in such a hurry? Bree asked.

Bathroom break, I simply said, trying to avoid her eyes.

Right? Bree said condescendingly, while narrowing her eyes at me.

Giving her an apologetic look, I told Bree I would meet her at the bus after school and asked Mrs. Olive for a bathroom pass. Bree shook her head as I was leaving, and I mouthed the words don't judge. Bree knew I was running to the bathroom to hide from Jessica. Carly, you’re such a wimp, I thought to myself.

Once I made it to the bathroom unscathed, I took a relieving breath. The stale air smelled of cigarette smoke and strong soap. Wrinkling my nose in response, I ducked into one stall in the back and sat down. I didn’t have to go, but I needed to pass the time so I didn’t meet up with Jessica in the hallway. Only a moment later, the bell rang and other students filed in. I figured if I hid until the next bell, my chance of getting a broken jaw was slimmer. But there was more tension going on in the bathroom too. The chatter was of a spiteful nature. At least two girls were making fun of another girl, who they thought was overweight.

Ever heard of Jenny Craig? said a girl whose voice I didn't recognize, followed by giggles and hushed whispers from the crowd of onlookers.

Peeking out of the crack in the stall door frame, I saw the nasty girls standing in front of the mirror-lined sinks. Cigarette smoke rose from their lips as they continued their barrage of insults.

The fat bitch needs a gym membership, said the friend of the first girl. Again, laughter and whispers poured from bystanders taking in the scene.

You got that right, said the first girl.

I'd seen the girl who was being mocked around school. She was beautiful and confident, and she didn't seem intimidated at all. She was wiping away smudged mascara from under her deep brown eyes. Once she had finished she turned to them.

Wow, and I thought I could get through one whole day without realizing that there are judgmental idiots that still have to bully others to get attention. What a disappointment, the pretty girl rebuked as she turned and walked toward the door. By the way, fuck off! she added.

Total silence. That shut them down and cleared out the bathroom. Many of them leaving, were whispering and snickering about the two bullies. Bravo, I thought. If it were me, I'd have turned and walked away, not being much for confrontation. Honestly, I was glad my name hadn't been mentioned. The rumors were piling up, and I'd been the brunt of many jokes.

When the bathroom had cleared out, I slid the latch to the open position. Picking up my backpack, I eased the door partially open. Then a beautiful voice permeated and echoed throughout the room. Make that, one beautiful voice and one hateful voice. Collin and Jessica had walked into the girl’s bathroom. Biting my lip, I quietly hopped up on the toilet, hunkering like a coward. I heard one of them pushing open a few stalls, checking to see if they were alone. Thank heavens, they stopped before reaching my stall. I stayed as still as I could, listening.

Jessica, why do you torment her like that?

Because I don’t like Carly. Is that why you brought me in here? Her voice was a little on the sour side.

Although I hadn't considered I'd be the hot topic of their conversation, it looked like that was the case. Why were they talking about me, I thought?

That’s exactly why I brought you in here. What makes you think tormenting her, spreading rumors, and humiliating her helps the situation she is in? You know the danger she faces. Collin's voice came out rough.

It makes me feel better, Jessica trilled. Why do you care so much anyway? Maybe she'll grow some thick skin, she scoffed contemptuously.

There was a long silence. They were definitely talking about me. My legs were aching a little. My breaths were almost nonexistent, but I continued to hold perfectly still.

What? Jessica whined. Obviously getting some kind of look from Collin.

Look, we are here to watch her and wait for it to happen. She doesn’t know what she is. It doesn’t help either of us for you to belittle her. Once it happens, you know what must be done. I want you to stop this, now! Do you understand, Jessica? Collin badgered.

She's constantly eying you up and down, batting those big green eyes. It makes me sick. She made a gagging noise.

Why do you care how she looks at me? Collin didn't wait for her to answer. Get it straight, Jess: we are not together. I only recruited you because of her status. So unless you want to go back to night-watch, I suggest you act like a professional. We’re here to do a job. Nothing more, got it?

"Yeah, got it. But we don't even know if she is the one," Jessica mocked.

I know she is, and that's all that matters, Collin argued.

I still don’t like her, Jessica repeated.

You don’t have to. Just do your job!

The anger in Collin's voice sent a shiver down my spine. I'd never heard him speak like that to anyone. It scared me, but I was happy it was directed toward Jessica.

Fine, Jessica finally said, and huffed out a noisy breath.

I was frozen and totally shaken. What the hell had just happened? What danger was I in? What job were they doing? Watching me? Were they planning on doing something to me? Why had they called me a what? Wait for what to happen? I was totally freaking out, and the questions were rolling around my mind. My hands were visibly shaking, and I was losing my balance as a result. I didn’t hear them anymore, but I couldn’t bring myself to peek over the stall either. Right then, my foot slipped off, and I stumbled into the door. The lock banged against the metal frame and echoed with a clang throughout the bathroom. I gasped and bit down on my lip. My face filled with blood and heat. If they were still there, I was in trouble. I froze one foot on the toilet and one on the floor. My breath caught in my throat. When no one came to check out my noisy mishap, I eased the door open. I peeked around the frame, screamed, and jumped a foot off the floor. My first period teacher, Ms. Merick, was standing there with her arms folded over her chest, glaring at me.

Carly, why aren’t you in your class? Ms. Merick asked sharply.

I took a minute to speak. My throat was tight and dry, and I couldn’t get the words to form a complete sentence. Um, I was just... I’m done now. I gathered up my backpack and started toward the door, still trembling.

Carly, you forgot something. Ms. Merick was still glaring at me, and I was totally confused. You didn’t wash your hands, she added, scowling.

I looked down at my hands and glanced back at her. For all intents and purposes, I had been in the bathroom stall, even if I'd not actually used it. But she didn't know that. I ran over to the sink and quickly rinsed my hands off in a show of good hygiene. Still shaken up, I attempted to grab a paper towel, only to have an inch square of it tear away between my fingers. Gosh, I