Chapter 1 (That Girl)

    “You’re being really quiet.” Josh says as we clear a table.
    Josh is my eighteen year old brother. He’s tall and dark haired. He’s lanky but lean and completely over protective, even if he might not show it.
    I don’t respond.
    “Rox?” Josh asks.
    “I’m just tired.” I finally say.
    It’s not a total lie. I am tired. In fact, I’m totally exhausted. I got my eight hours of sleep last night, from nine to five this morning, but I had also skipped the coffee. So maybe the cut off from caffeine today has made me a little crabby.
    So has having to lie to Josh and Millie. Out of everyone in the family, we‘ve always been the closest. Having to keep things from them and lie is driving me insane. Also because, well, I had nobody else to tell these kinds of things.
    “Roxy!” Liam whines loudly. “Let’s go!”
    Liam is my seven-year-old little brother. Today is his last day of second grade and I know he’s excited.
    “Please.” Millie says, passing me. “Before I kill myself.”
    Millie is my older sister. Older, but most of the time she acts the same age as I do. Her straight blonde hair is tied in a pony tail at the back of her head, but most of it has escaped by now. We could have been twins had she been sixteen rather than twenty-six.
    “Go.” Mom says, touching my shoulder once I get into the kitchen. “Before he cries.”
    I hope she doesn’t notice the way I flinch away from her touch, the way I seem to be so painfully aware of. I’m almost paranoid, like she might be able to my heart beat faster and my palms sweat with anxiety.
    My little brother is sitting at a table in the corner of the diner, arms crossed and pouting.
    “Liam, what are you waiting for?” I demand with fake annoyance. “We’re gonna be late!”
    He jumps out of his seat and bolts out of the diner.
    I take my time grabbing my purse and books from under the counter so that by the time I get to my car, Liam is already sitting in the passenger seat, bouncing impatiently.
    We made our way down Church Street--named for the church on it--and I stopped outside Oceanview Elementary.
    “Have a good day, kiddo.” I say, tussling his curly blonde hair before he jumps out of the car and runs toward his friends on the playground with barely a “bye.”
    I take a deep breath and pulled away from the curb.
    My name is Roxanne Cardea and I’m that girl.
    I’ve lived in Oceanview on the coast of Massachusetts the entire sixteen years I’ve been alive, with my parents and brothers and sister. It’s like a town straight out of a book. Everybody knows everybody and their business seeing as we have a population of about 9,000 people. The only major mall is about an hour away and there isn’t really anything to do unless you like fishing or wandering off on your own around the quiet town or the shops along the coast.
    I’m the perfect girl from all the movies. I have blue eyes and wavy blond hair the ends a few inches under my collarbone. My skin is clear, I’m five-foot-five, and my body is flawless. I’m cute, athletic, and well-liked by everyone, including my teachers and I’m always dressed well.
    My Dad’s a surgeon and works practically eighty hours a week so he’s rarely home. With him being a doctor my family would still being doing extremely well in the money department even if Mom didn’t have the diner and my sister didn‘t have her clothing store.
    Typical rich girl stuck in a small town, right?
    Wrong.
    Because a lot of times, people fail to notice anything about me.
    I join clubs, but am never the president. When asked, I’m known to paint sets for the school plays, working at animal shelters, and volunteering at the local YMCA.
    I always have a date for the school dance, but only during Junior year was it with anyone special. I have a group of people I sit with at lunch everyday. I have a great relationship with everyone in my family and they’re my first priority.
    I have a 4.1 GPA and I’m a Senior even though I’m only sixteen.
    I’m nice to everyone. Even the people I don’t like.
    Sometimes it’s hard. Really hard. Like when Will walks toward me while I’m at my locker.

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems