Finding Me (The Spy Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  But when I open the door, I find the house to be empty. Everybody is probably in their own rooms. So I walk to my own bedroom on the second floor, and shut the door. I carefully lock it, and then open my window, climbing onto the ledge. I’ve been inside all day at school, and I really just want a few minutes outside.

  I carefully jump from my window to the tree, and then climb down the tree. I’ve done it hundreds of times, so I’m not scared when I do it anymore. I’m confident that I’m not going to fall. When I reach the ground, I run away from the house, hoping that nobody is seeing me. I haven’t got caught yet, but I’m always cautious.

  I walk to the park close by. There are people there during the day time, so I avoid them and go towards the walking trails that are mostly deserted.

  Today, there is nobody walking on the trail, and I’m grateful for that. I’m not sure I could take more human interaction. Just yesterday, I was wishing for more, but now I’m scared. Scared, because I am not good at talking to people, but also scared my mom will find out.

  As I walk I look down at my feet, just incase there are people. If anybody sees me, they generally won’t approach me if I’m looking down.

  But while I’m looking down, I don’t notice a guy in my path, and I run right into him.

  “Oh my,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  The guy, who is holding a camera with a huge lens, smiles. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m Brett.”

  I look up at Brett, who is much taller than me. He’s got dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a smile that makes my knees a little bit weak. This guy is kind of cute. His dark framed glasses makes him look smart.

  Why do glasses make people look smart?

  “I’m Karlie,” I say. “Again, sorry about bumping into you.”

  “It’s really no problem,” he says. “Actually, there is a way you can make it up to me. I’m testing out a new camera. Do you mind posing?”

  “Ugh…” I’ve never had my picture taken before. At least not that I can remember. It’s such a normal thing. I see people at school doing it all the time, yet I’m not even sure what to do when I pose.

  “It’s okay,” Brett says, sounding disappointed. “I was just hoping.”

  “No. I’ll do it,” I say. “Where do you want me?”

  He points to a spot to the left of me, right in front of a gorgeous, old tree. I think it’s an Oak tree, but I am not certain. I stand in front of it.

  “Say sushi,” he says.

  “Sushi?” I ask.

  “I figure it’s better than saying cheese,” he says. “That’s just cliché.”

  “Cheese?” I ask, still feeling confused.

  “Have you never said cheese before taking a photo?” he asks.

  I shake my head, not letting him know about my lack of pictures.

  He doesn’t comment. “Turn to the left a little,” he says. I do. “Now tilt your head up slightly.” I do as he says, but he says, “No, no.”

  Brett walks over to me and takes my arm. He moves me to the right angle and then puts his hand on my chin, making me jump.

  “I’m going to tilt your head, okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice sounding small. He moves my head and then runs back to where he was standing before.

  “Perfect,” he says, and snaps a few photos. “Thanks, Karlie.”

  “No problem,” I say. “I hope the pictures turn out okay when you get them developed.”

  “They’re perfect. Want to see?” he asks, holding up his camera.

  Oh, right. I forgot that some camera have screens on them so you can see the pictures before getting them printed.

  I walk over and he shows me the pictures.

  “Wow. That’s me?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “I don’t look as sickly skinny on there as I do in real life,” I say thoughtfully. I really didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it’s already out there. I can’t take it back now.

  “It’s the angle,” he says. “But you are really skinny. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who obsesses over their weight.”

  I shake my head.

  “Good. Because if you were, we couldn’t be friends,” he says.

  “Friends,” I say, repeating the word. I’ve heard it many times over the past two days. I went from having zero friends to having three guys that want to be my friend. It’s all too much.

  “Yeah,” he says, then pulls out a yellow, cake looking thing from his camera bag. “You look like you could use this.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  His mouth falls open. “Please tell me you’ve eaten a Twinkie.”

  “Nope,” I say.

  He hands it to me. “Then allow me to be the first to introduce you to the best, most fattening, snack ever.”

  I open it, knowing that if I don’t eat it now and my mom finds it, she will flip out. I take a bit from the end. It’s very moist and there is some kind of whipped cream topping in the middle. It’s a little too sweet, but it’s good.

  “Do you like it?” Brett asks.

  “It’s awesome,” I say, taking another bite.

  “Does that mean you’ll be my friend?” he asks.

  “As long as you bring me more food,” I say, shoving the rest of it into my mouth. I’m joking. Sort of. Really, I do want this guy to bring me more food.

  “You got yourself a deal,” he says, grinning big at me. “Will you meet me here tomorrow and let me take more pictures? I’ll bring lots of food tomorrow.”

  “Maybe,” I answer. “It depends if I can sneak out of my house. If my parents are in a bad mood, probably not. They’ll have me scrubbing the floors or something. But most likely, they won’t notice I’m gone.”

  “They won’t notice?” he asks.

  “I’ll try to come meet you,” I say. “But I really should get back. Nice to meet you, Brett. Thanks for the… cake thingy.”

  “Twinkie,” he says. “And you’re welcome.”

  I take off running back towards the house, hoping nobody noticed I was missing. When I climb back up into my room, I walk back downstairs and see nobody has emerged from their rooms yet. I start on dinner, knowing they’ll be asking for food soon.

  Tonight, I decide to make a nice salad, knowing it will make my mother happy.

  Maybe, just maybe, it is possible for me to have friends.

  Tuesday, August 15

  Hunter.

  “Karlie!” Mom yells from downstairs.

  Oh, no. She sounds angry.

  I take off running down the stairs, knowing it’s best not to keep her waiting.

  She’s in the kitchen.

  “Yes, Mom,” I say.

  “What is this?” she asks, holding up a plate that was in the sink. If looks could kill, I would be dead right now. She has her eyes narrowed and her face is red with anger. Even her hand is shaking.

  I look at the ground. “It’s a plate.”

  “And why is it in the sink? It should be washed and put away,” she says. Her voice is much too calm, and it’s scaring me.

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t there before I went to bed,” I say. “I did all the dishes from dinner.”

  She takes the plate in her hand and throws it on the ground. The plate shatters. “Clean this up before school. And you don’t get food for a week. That will teach you to skip out on chores and then talk back to me about it.”

  I lower my head, saying nothing.

  Mom storms past me, towards the master bedroom, and I grab a dust pan and a broom, careful to get every single piece on the floor. If Mom steps on a piece of broken glass, it would be World War 3 in this house.

  Once everything is cleaned up, I head off to school with my stomach growling.

  Guess I’m going yet another day without breakfast.

  Twenty minutes later, I am at school. I head towards my locker and walk past Gage. He looks up at me, and then follows.

  “Karlie, hey,” he says, pacing beside
me.

  “Hello, Gage,” I say back. I don’t want to be rude, and since I didn’t get in trouble last night, I can only assume my mom was bluffing about knowing if I talked to people at school or not.

  “You’re talking to me today?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Cool,” he says, then pulls something out of his backpack. “Do you like apples? My mom insists I eat one every morning, but I hate the taste.”

  “Yeah. I don’t get fruit often,” I say. “I love apples.”

  “Take it,” he says, holding out a big, yellow apple towards me.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking it from him. It looks so good that I could cry. But I won’t. Not in front of him. When we get to my locker, I take a bite before opening up. I grab my books and notice there was something else left inside.

  A Twinkie.

  Huh.

  “You like those things?” Gage asks, pointing at the Twinkie.

  I nod.

  “They’re basically just preservatives and chemicals,” he says. “That can’t be healthy.”

  “They’re calories,” I say. “And it’s better than starving.”

  “True, I guess,” he says. “Are you really that hungry?”

  I shake my head. “Not today.”

  We start walking towards the classroom together, and I continue eating my apple. I decide that yellow ones are definitely better than the red or green ones I’ve had in the past. It’s got a slight sour taste. I like it.

  “Your mom really gives you these every morning?” I ask thoughtfully.

  “Yep,” he says.

  “You’re so lucky,” I say, knowing I’m lucky if my mom let’s me have a one hundred calorie granola bar for breakfast.

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I wonder if he thought my comment was weird.

  “I’ll bring it to you every morning,” he says.

  “Really?” I ask, hating how excited I sound over a freaking apple.

  “Wow. Maybe I should bring you food all the time,” he says. “We will end up being best friends.”

  Best friends.

  My little brain literally can’t handle the term.

  We walk into the room, and the blond haired boy that sat beside me yesterday is already sitting there. He also sat by us at lunch, and I wonder if Gage knows him. I’ve never seen him before. Maybe he’s new too? I toss the apple core into the trash and go sit where I sat yesterday, beside the boy.

  I open the Twinkie and start eating it.

  “Not you too,” the boy says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Twinkies,” he says. “You like them?”

  I nod. “I had my first one yesterday. It’s amazing.”

  “I’m Hunter, by the way,” he tells me.

  “I’m Karlie,” I say.

  “Isn’t she great?” Gage says.

  I turn to look at him.

  “Gage,” Hunter says, in a warning tone, like they know each other.

  I turn to look at Hunter, now noticing his pale green eyes.

  “You look a lot like my neighbor,” I say. “His name is Jax. You have the same color of eyes. They’re so unique. I think he just moved into town. Are you related to him or something?”

  “Jax is my brother,” Hunter says.

  “He’s nice,” I tell him. “But he told me I’m weird.”

  “Sounds like Jax,” Gage says.

  “You know him too?” I ask.

  “I… ugh…” Gage says, hesitating.

  “We went to school with each other before,” Hunter says smoothly.

  “And you happened to move at the same time?” I ask.

  “I moved with him?” Gage says, but it sounds like a question.

  “Yep,” Hunter says. “His parents were moving to Germany for work, so he came with me.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Cool.”

  I wish my family would move to Germany without me.

  I feel bad for even thinking that.

  The warning bell goes off, and the classroom starts filling up with kids. I turn my attention forward, ready for class.

  Do you need to be rescued?

  “Are you busy tonight?” Hunter asks me, as we sit in the corner of the cafeteria on the floor. The two of them don’t ask why I sit on the floor, they just sit with me. Maybe they don’t think it’s weird.

  “Um…” I say.

  “Gage, Jax and I are going to the movies with some of our friends. You should come with us,” he says. “My treat.”

  “I… can’t. I’m sorry,” I say.

  “You have something else going on?” Hunter asks.

  “I’m not… allowed… to go out…”

  “On a school night?” he asks.

  “Ever.”

  “Ever?” Gage asks. “You mean you’re not allowed to hang out with friends?”

  I don’t want to admit that I’ve never had friends before them. And if my mom knew I had friends, she would starve me. Maybe to death. So I just shake my head.

  “Why not?” Hunter asks.

  I shrug.

  “Over protective parents?” Gage asks.

  If you call getting bossed around, starved, and occasionally locked in your bedroom without food and water for days being over protective. I decide to just ignore the question, and take a bit of my food.

  “How do you eat school food?” Hunter asks, looking at my tray like it is the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen.

  “Are you kidding?” I ask. “This is amazing. I mean, not as good as what I cook at home, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

  Plus, when I get home tonight, I have to cook dinner for my family and I don’t get one bite of it. This is my last meal of the day and I am going to savor every last bite.

  “You cook?” Gage asks. “Sweet! This definitely makes you my best friend, cause I love to eat.”

  Hunter smacks Gage on the back of the head.

  “You need to keep in line,” Hunter says.

  I just look between the two of them curious. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Gage says, looking away.

  “Okay,” I say, taking another bite of food.

  “You know, I live across the street from you,” Hunter says.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “I saw you yesterday.”

  I swallow my food, nearly choking on it. “Saw me what?”

  “First, I saw you jump out of your window onto a tree and climb down it,” he says. “And then thirty minutes later, I saw you climb back up and in your window. You live on the second story, you know. That’s dangerous.”

  “How did you even see me?” I ask. “My window faces the opposite side of your house.”

  “I was… I… happened to be back that way,” he says.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Where did you go?” Hunter asks.

  “For a walk,” I answer.

  “Where to?” he asks.

  “The park. There is a trail back there,” I say. “There’s hardly ever anybody on it, and it’s nice to just walk around. Clear my head. Plus, I just wanted to get out of my house. It’s worth the risk to climb down a tree if I get a little bit of freedom.”

  “Your mom and dad won’t even let you go to the park?” Gage asks.

  “Mom and stepdad,” I correct. “Tom… he’s… he’s… he’s not my dad.”

  “Do you see your real dad?” Hunter asks.

  “I don’t know who he is,” I answer. “But it doesn’t matter. He abandoned me, so how good can he be anyway?”

  I say it. But part of me wonders if he even knows about me. My mom isn’t exactly a nice woman. Maybe she never told him about me. Or maybe I was the result of a one night stand. Maybe if he knew I was out here, he would want me.

  I’ll never know, though. So there is no use in dreaming or wishing.

  When I was little, I used to dream that my dad was a superhero. He was staying away to keep me safe, until he killed the villain. When I was sev
en and my mom locked me in a closet for two days without letting me out to eat, drink, or even use the bathroom, I realized that he wasn’t coming. I was on my own then, and ten years later, I still am.

  “Do you want to find him? Maybe we could help you,” Gage says.

  “How?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter. I’m seventeen. It’s a little too late for him to rescue me.”

  “Rescue you? Do you need to be rescued?” Hunter asks.

  I shove the last bite in my mouth, and get up from the floor. I walk off before having to answer his question.

  Now that I’ve started talking, I really need to learn when to not talk.

  Nolan.

  Later that night, after I cook dinner, I sneak out my window. My bedroom door is locked—from the outside this time. Mom says I’m not allowed to come out all night, so I might as well sneak out. Who I am going to see, I don’t know yet. Maybe Hunter. Or maybe Brett.

  I climb down the tree and jump when I get close enough to the bottom. I land on my feet, as always.

  “I’m not sure if that is impressive or really stupid,” I hear a male voice say.

  I look behind me to see a guy that I’ve never seen before. He has brown hair that almost looks like it has red highlights in the sunlight. He has green eyes, but they’re different than Hunter and Jax’s. They’re dark green and very pretty. He’s also really tall, like, probably a foot taller than me.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  Maybe I should be screaming for help, seeing there is a strange man in my yard, but I do not want my mother to find out that I snuck out of my room.

  “Nolan,” he answers.

  “Why are you in my yard?” I ask.

  “I’m here to see you, Karlie,” he answers.

  “You… you know my name,” I say.

  He nods.

  I back against the tree, but still don’t scream. Somehow, even if he is here to murder me, it sounds better to have it over quickly than being slowly being starved to death by my own mother.

  “Shouldn’t you be screaming or something?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not scared of you.”