Fate (New Hope Academy Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Author's Note

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  Author's Note

  Find Scarlett Online

  Acknowledgments

  Fate

  New Hope Academy, Episode One

  Scarlett Haven

  Copyright © 2016 Scarlett Haven

  http://scarletthaven.wordpress.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  This book is dedicated to my cousin, Savannah.

  Follow God with your whole heart and don’t let anybody tell you anything is impossible.

  This is episode one in the New Hope Academy Series.

  Enjoy the ride.

  ONE

  Weird American things.

  Life brings pain. How we deal with that pain is what defines us. Pain can make the nicest of people go mad. If you let it, pain can eat away at your soul until there is nothing recognizable left.

  Pain can also make us fierce. It can make a weak person strong. Pain helps us appreciate the good moments… moments we may have otherwise took for granted.

  Which of these I am, I can’t say. I suppose it depends on the day. Some days, I feel invincible, and others I want to hide in a closet and let the world think I have disappeared. I haven’t yet decided which I am today, though the closet is looking pretty good right about now.

  I look down from the small airplane window at the American city skyline. In a few minutes, I will be landing on American soil for the first time.

  “Almost home,” the guy next to me says. When I switched planes in Canada, he was the guy who sat beside me. He’s been on his laptop the whole time and only put it away a few minutes ago.

  I’m jealous of him. He’s almost home. I’m already homesick.

  “Is Pennsylvania home to you as well?” he asks.

  I turn to the guy, feeling surprised that this stranger is talking to me.

  “No. I won’t be going home until Christmas,” I answer.

  “Are you Russian?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  I’m half-Russian, half-British, though I was born and raised in Russia.

  “Are you here for college?” he asks.

  “I won’t start uni for two years,” I answer. “I’m here to attend New Hope Academy.”

  “That’s a nice school,” he says. “I hope to send my kid there when he’s older. If I can afford it.”

  I nod, knowing that it’s a nice school. I’ve heard nothing but how nice it is since my parents told me that I was enrolled two weeks ago. And even then, I think they only told me because they had to ship my stuff to the school. I think they would’ve waited to tell me I was leaving until today if it were up to them.

  “Are you not happy about going to school here?” he asks.

  “I’d rather be at home. With my mum, dad, and brothers,” I admit.

  “Well, I hope you like the school,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends.”

  “I hope so as well,” I say. This guy seems plenty nice and normal, but I’ve always heard Americans were strange.

  “I’m Marcus, by the way. Marcus Smith,” he says, extending his hand.

  At first, I’m shocked this guy is extending his hand. A lady is always supposed to initiate a handshake. But then I remember, I’m in America. Things are different here.

  I accept his handshake. “I’m Katerina Vasin.”

  Marcus smiles at me, which makes me a little uncomfortable. I wonder if smiling at strangers is one of those weird American things.

  “Tell me, Katerina, are all Russians so serious?” he asks.

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “I guess what I’m trying to ask is, do you ever smile?”

  “Never at a stranger,” I answer, feeling my face grow warm. “Women in Russia who do are considered promiscuous.”

  “In America, it’s friendly to smile,” he says.

  “I’ll try and remember that,” I say, feeling bad that I thought he was creepy for smiling at me.

  Still, Americans are weird.

  Say something.

  New Hope, Pennsylvania is a lovely town.

  But it’s small.

  Really, really small.

  As the limo drives towards the school, I look out the window, taking in the sights. There are people walking through town, going to shops and restaurants on the sides of the road. Just past the shops, there is the Delaware River, so the limo driver informs me.

  As I watch the people, I realize that maybe Marcus was right. Lots of people seem to be smiling.

  A few miles out of town, I see a large stone sign that says “New Hope Academy.” The limo turns onto the drive. We drive a little over two versts, or about a mile and a half, to the school.

  Along the way, I notice how well maintained the school is. The grass is well tended to, the trees are all trimmed neatly, and the drive looks freshly paved.

  For a moment, I wonder how much my parents paid to send me here. But I know what my father would say—there is no price too high for his only daughter.

  I have two older brothers, Dimitri and Alik. Dimitri is twenty two years old and is engaged to a wonderful woman named Elana. They are planning a wedding for the Christmas holiday. They were going to marry earlier, but I suspect they are delaying the wedding so I can be there.

  Alik is nineteen. He’s enrolled at a great university in Russia. I hope to join him there in two years.

  Not only am I the only girl, but I also the baby of the family.

  “We’re here, Miss Vasin,” the limo driver tells me, as we pull in front of the busy school. There are a lot of nice cars and limos around, dropping kids off or parking.

  I look at the school—there are a handful of matching brick buildings, and a large fountain in the front, with water spraying up. A lot of students are sitting around the fountain—some with friends, some alone. There is even a boy playing guitar.

  Everybody looks cheerful.

  There are groups of girls talking in circles and groups of guys just hanging out. As I watch them, I wonder which group I will fit in with.

  The limo door swings open, making me jump. The driver stands there, waiting for me to get out.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Vasin. You will fit in just fine here,” he says, as if reading my mind.

  “Brilliant,” I say, then get out.

  The limo driver gets my bag from the trunk, and I grab it from him.

  “Goodbye, Miss Vasin,” he says. “And good luck.”

  The limo driver walks to get back in his car, so I walk forward towards the school. Unfortunately, I don’t notice the curb and I end up falling face first into something hard.

  “Hey!” an angry voice yells.

  “I didn’t see the curb,” I tell the guy, once I get my balance.

  He looks at me and smiles. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I love your accent.”

  “Okay,” I say, not knowing what else to say. I’m not used to getting compliments from strangers and to be honest, it’s kind of awkward.

  “You’re from Russia, right?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Kaiden Thornburg,” he says.

  “I’m Katerina Vasin.”

  “Katerina,” he says, repeating my name. It’s really weird heating my name with an American accent. Or
maybe it’s American. He sounds different than what I’m used to hearing in movies. “So what brings you to America?”

  “School,” I answer.

  “Yeah, but why New Hope Academy?” he asks.

  “My mum and dad picked the school out. I have no idea why,” I answer.

  “Your mum?” he asks. “Now you sound British.”

  “I am. Or half, anyway. My dad is Russian, my mum is British, which is why I speak English so well. We only speak English at home, unless we have company,” I say, explaining.

  “So you speak Russian?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Say something.”

  “Okay,” I say, looking him in the eyes. It’s then that I notice how green his eyes are. “U tebya krasivyye glaza.”

  “What did you say?” he asks.

  My face grows warm.

  There is no way that I’m going to tell him in English.

  “You will have to learn Russia and figure it out yourself,” I say.

  Because I can’t tell a guy I just met “you have beautiful eyes.” He would probably take it the wrong way. I’m not sure if American boys are as forward as Russian boys, but I’m not going to take any chances.

  “Challenge accepted,” he says.

  “Your accent if different. Are you from somewhere else too?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

  “I’m just southern,” he says. “You will learn that people from different areas in the US have different accents. I’m from South Carolina.”

  “I have no idea where that’s at,” I admit. “I don’t know much about American geography.”

  “Maybe you can come for Labor Day weekend. My parents will be out of town, as always. I usually bring all my friends,” Kaiden says. “We have a house on the beach. It doesn’t really get very cold there and rarely ever snows.”

  Isn’t the point of Labor Day to spend time with family? It’s weird that his parents are always out of town for it, but I don’t question it. Maybe American’s version of Labor Day is different than ours.

  “Does it snow much in Russia?” he asks, then immediately says, “Wait. Don’t answer that. It was a stupid question.”

  It does seem stupid until I realize that I don’t know much about American climates.

  “I better go,” I tell Kaiden. “I should probably unpack.”

  “Do you need help finding your way?”

  “No,” I answer, pointing to a sign that says “New students here.”

  “Oh. Well, it was nice to meet you, Katerina.”

  “You too, Kaiden,” I say, then walk off.

  At least all the Americans I’ve met so far have been friendly.

  I still think Americans are weird.

  After I get checked in, I head to my room to unpack. My roommate is already all unpacked. My stuff is all put together too—the stuff my mum shopped here. I don’t know who set it up, but I am glad I don’t have to. I hate unpacking.

  As I am in the middle of unpacking my one carry one bag, my phone goes off. I’m glad to see it’s my brother Alik and not my mum or dad. I’m mad at them right now.

  “Privyet,” I answer, saying hi in Russian.

  “Hey, Katerina,” he answers back in English. “You have a nice trip?”

  “As well as it could be, seeing I spent eleven hours in the air,” I say. “I miss you already.”

  “Miss you too, lil sis,” he says. “I’m leaving for uni in September, so it would’ve just been you, mum and dad at home. Maybe it’s best you’re in America. You know how they like to hover you.”

  It’s true.

  I’m the baby and the only girl in my family, so they are very protective. Though, it has been worse lately.

  “Still, I don’t like being in a foreign country all alone,” I say, feeling overwhelmed. I just want to go home.

  “You will make friends, Katerina. Lots of them. After you graduate, you probably won’t want to come home,” Alik says, obviously trying to cheer me up. But he’s not the one in a strange country.

  “If I was home, I’d be starting uni next year. Now I have two years before I can go,” I say, reminding him of how different American education is.

  “New Hope Academy is the best college prep school in America. You’re going to learn a lot and you will have fun. Just promise me you will try and make friends,” he says.

  “Alik…”

  “I’m serious, Katerina Mikhailovna Vasin.”

  My mum, whenever she gets onto me or my brother, uses our full name. So I know that Alik really is serious.

  “Okay, Alik. I will try.”

  “Promise?” he asks.

  “Promise.”

  “Good,” he says. “I’m going to get off here. But I promise to call again soon.”

  “Okay. I love you, Alik. Please tell Mum, Dad and Dimitri too.”

  “Love you too. And I will,” he says. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” I say, as the line goes dead.

  I want to take a minute to cry, but instead I finish unpacking.

  When I go back to Russia after graduation, things will be different. I’ll be going to uni and probably getting married soon. My family won’t be the same and it’s scary to think about.

  Not that my family has been the same since my brother, Eduard, died.

  Still, growing up is not always fun. I miss the simplicity of being a child. And I know I’m only sixteen, which some might consider a child, but I’m not. I know pain that most adult have never felt.

  When I was younger, my mum used to tell me, “beauty is pain.” Usually when I was complaining about wearing heels. After my brother died, she stopped saying it. I think she realized that sometimes, pain is ugly. Sometimes pain leaves behind scars.

  I finish putting away my stuff just as the door opens. I look behind me to see a blonde girl walk in.

  The girl is kind of pretty. She has dirty blonde hair, light brown eyes, and she’s tall—I’d say about 170 centimeters. She’s also wearing a pair of yellow jeans. I know enough about American culture to know that she’s wearing skinny jeans. They’re so tight, I don’t see how they could be comfortable. She’s also wearing a black Star Wars shirt.

  “Hi,” the girl says. “You must be my new roommate.”

  I nod.

  “I’m Savannah Arrington,” she says.

  “I’m Katerina Vasin,” I say.

  “Cool accent. Where are you from?”

  “Russia,” I answer, wondering how many people are going to ask me that question.

  “Cool,” she says. “I’m from Chicago.”

  “Do you have a lot of siblings?” I ask.

  “Nope. Only child. What about you?” she asks.

  “I have thr… two older brothers. Alik and Dimitri,” I tell her.

  “Cool,” she says.

  I think Savannah likes the word cool.

  “I have a cousin who goes here,” she says. “We’re close. He’s like a brother to me.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.” I don’t have any cousins. Or none that I know of. My dad’s parents died when he was just a baby, so he never had any siblings. And my mum has a sister, but I’ve never met her before and my mum doesn’t like speaking of her. So maybe I have a cousin and just don’t know it.

  “Yeah. Well, do you want to meet some people?” she asks. “I can introduce you. It’d be more fun than sitting in the dorm room.”

  “Sure,” I say, remembering my promise to Alik.

  I follow Savannah out the door.

  “So how is your English so good?” she asks. “Do you visit America often?”

  “My mum is British,” I answer. “This is my first trip to America.”

  “Cool,” she says. “Are all Russian girls as pretty as you are?”

  “Ugh…” I’m not sure what to say. I feel like that’s an awkward question for her to ask me.

  I feel like I look like the stereotypical Russian woman—blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Ironically, I get my hair a
nd eye color from my British mum. My dad has dark hair and dark eyes.

  “It’s a compliment.”

  “Thanks,” I say, remembering my mum saying that English people like to be thanked.

  “There’s my cousin!” Savannah says, getting excited.

  I look to where she is pointing, but it’s a group of people. We walk up to them.

  “Asher, hey,” Savannah says, giving a guy with dark hair a hug.

  The guy I’m assuming is her cousin doesn’t look like her at all. He has dark hair and dark blue eyes. But then again, I don’t look anything like my brothers.

  “I missed you,” Asher tells her.

  “How was summer in Paris?” she asks him.

  “Eh, you know,” he says.

  She laughs. “No, I don’t. I spent my summer in Chicago, bored out of my mind.” Savannah looks over at me. “Asher, this is my roommate, Katerina.”

  “Pleased to meet y…” Asher stops talking, as he looks me in the eyes. “Wow.”

  Savannah giggles.

  Asher just stares at me.

  “Hi, Asher. Nice to meet you,” I say, hoping he will start speaking.

  His mouth falls open.

  “She’s Russian,” Savannah tells him.

  “I may like Russian accents better than French ones,” he says, as he continues to stare.

  “Is your cousin mad?” I ask Savannah.

  “Mad? Why would he be angry?” she asks.

  “Mad… like crazy. Not angry,” I say.

  Savannah laughs even harder.

  “Sorry,” Asher says. “I’m usually much better with words. I’m Asher Arrington. It’s nice to meet you, Katerina.”

  “You too…” I pause. “I think.”

  Savannah, still laughing, points at a boy next to Asher. “This is Asher’s friend, Seth.”

  Seth nods his head at me. “Hey. My step-dad’s mom is from Russia.”

  “What part?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders.

  “You’ll have to excuse Seth. He doesn’t realize that there is a whole big world outside of the east coast,” a girl beside him says. “I’m Amanda, by the way.”