Chapter 1
Callyn- Present Day
I get to start my senior year at a new school, in the Podunk town of Camden Falls, Colorado. A town in the middle of nowhere. We are surrounded by mountains and forest. I’m not even sure how my father found this place. But today is the first day of school at Camden Falls High, home of the Camden Kings. It’s my first day of senior year. I’m almost done just one more year. I can’t wait. I can forget all about this school, these people, and this life. I can start over, be someone else, be myself. I make sure I stay invisible at school, so people don’t question.
This new school will be no different. Being the new girl should make that easy. My home life is not all sunshine and apple pie. I’ll be eighteen soon, six months and two days to be exact, but who’s counting. I just keep telling myself, just make it to eighteen. After that first hurdle, I need to hang on until graduation in May. Then I’m gone, never looking back, never coming back.
It’s the first day of senior year. I should be worrying about having a boyfriend or friends. What parties I’m going to on the weekends, my hair, makeup, and what I’m wearing to homecoming and prom. Instead, I’m checking to make sure my shirt sleeves are long enough to hide the bruises on my arms and long enough to hide the welts and bruising on my back, should my shirt ever rise. I keep my long, red hair straight and down to hide my face. I’m afraid people will guess or see what is wrong. I can’t let them find out. It will only make things worse.
Have I thought about calling the police? Of course, but the fear I have has overridden any logical thinking. So, I suffer, for now.
I choose a black plaid, three-quarter sleeve, button-up shirt. I put a black cami on underneath, a pair of faded out blue jeans, and my black ankle boots. I don’t bother with makeup because the one and only time I decided to wear it is still etched in my mind. The way my father backhanded me across my face, calling me a whore, telling me I was asking for attention from the perverted boys at school. He followed that up with a belt across my back. That was the only time he touched my face. Those are the bruises that you can’t hide. Makeup can only do so much, but I can’t wear it. I learned over the years how to avoid him. Sometimes though, I still can’t.
When he drinks the beatings and hitting are worse. He was never like this before my mother died. He changed that day, and not for the better. I shake my head and take a couple of deep breaths and try to shove those memories away. I grab my bookbag and walk the six blocks to school. I could ride the bus, but then I would have to share a seat with someone, and I can’t have that. I like walking anyway. It’s good exercise, and the fresh air always helps clear my mind and gets me in the right headspace.
My classes this year are college prep courses. My last school didn’t have that option. If I take them now, then I don’t have to take them in college. I’m hoping to get a full academic scholarship, and I should with my G.P.A. I make a quick stop at my locker, leaving my bookbag, and only grabbing a couple of notebooks and pens. I head to chemistry, my first class. I always pick the same seat, middle near a window. I figure the seat is inconspicuous. Sitting down, I open my notebook, looking up at the right time to watch two of the hottest guys I have ever seen walk in.
They look quickly around the room and head in my direction. They take up the table in front of me. The classroom is set up like a lab. The tables are long enough to seat three people at each. There are drawers that house the chemistry equipment. In the back, in locked cabinets, are chemicals. The chairs are wooden stools. I keep my head down and peek up at them.
They are gorgeous. The one in the middle seat, his light brown hair is faded on the sides and long on top. His eyes, oh his eyes. They are like a gold hazel color. He has broad shoulders and toned arms. He looks good in his green t-shirt and blue jeans. His friend, on the other hand, has copper, wavy hair, just long enough to run your fingers through it. He has nice deep brown eyes. His build is similar to his friends, but not as bulky, but still has some muscle tone. Even his blue t-shirt can’t hide that. They talk amongst themselves, briefly glancing back once. I feel drawn to them. I don’t understand why. As much as I would like to talk to them, or anyone, I know it’s for the best that I don’t. I’m not sure I would even know what to say, or if they would even talk to me. My chemistry teacher comes in breaking through my thoughts.
He is younger than I would have thought for a chemistry teacher. I would guess he is in his forties. He is wearing black, shiny shoes, and blue jeans, a white button-up shirt and a navy blue, blazer jacket. There is a lot of gel in his blonde hair. It’s styled so meticulously, not a hair out of place. His brown eyes look kind. He does have a sharp jawline and a strong prominent nose. Overall, he is good looking. He sets his well-worn briefcase down on his desk.
“Good morning, everyone.”
Good morning rumbles from the class. Chemistry is not the best subject to have first thing in the morning.
“I’m Mr. Calloway and welcome to Chemistry. The majority of the work will be done in groups, which I am assigning.” A collective groan is heard throughout the class. “Yes, yes, I know, but this is to ensure that work will be done. Now when I call your names move to a table with your partners. This is how you should sit for the remainder of the semester.”
Mr. Calloway starts calling out names and the sounds of shuffling and murmurs can be heard. I sit patiently waiting for him to call my name. I’m going to have to talk to people. I start to panic. It will only be for this class. I can do this. I can do this. Then it happens.
“Callyn Silvers, Zeke Montgomery, and Lucian Harris.”
I glance around the room trying to figure out who they are, when I spot the two good-looking boys in front of me, also looking around the room trying to figure out who I am. I grab my notebooks and pens and move to the only seat left at their table. The spot next to the brown-haired boy. They both look at me with curious interest.
“Hi, I’m Callyn.”
“Zeke.”
“Lucian.” My fellow ginger.
I smile shyly and duck my head. The teacher goes on explaining what is expected of us for the semester and hands out our books. By the time he is done, the bell rings. I gather my stuff and look over to the guys.
“See you tomorrow,” I say quickly, then leave.
As I walk to my next class, I think about chemistry. I really said something to them and the world didn’t crash and burn. Maybe I can have a friend. Friends that I would only see at school. Maybe, but I need to slow down. I need to get comfortable talking to people first and chemistry is just my way to do it.