Secrets, Tears, and Knives

Chapter 1: A Crush, A Rival, And A Biography

Secrets, tears, and knives; these are how the three words are defined in the dictionary:

Secrets: Kept hidden from knowledge or view, concealed.

Tears: A profusion of this liquid spilling from the eyes and wetting the cheeks, especially as an expression of emotion.

Knives: A cutting instrument consisting of a sharp blade attached to a handle.

My definition? Let me put it in one sentence for you, see if you can piece together the puzzle. Secrets kept from your closest friends lead them to tears when they find out the hard way, like knives used to stab them in the back. Does that clear the air a bit? No? Well, let’s see where I can begin… this all happened six months ago, the beginning of the summer fresh after graduation.

---------------------------------

The doorbell echoed through the quiet house, making me leap from my bed. This always happens to me, I can’t really explain it. Whenever I know my friends are coming over, I just don’t like to answer the door. I like to make them wait, make me look like I’m occupied with something, like I’m important. Stupid, isn’t it? It’s always been that way with my group of friends, my clique.

If I were to classify myself as one of the most common labels teenagers get, I would be the geek. Not totally one, mind you, but compared to my other friends, I was definitely the geek; the brainy one, as if my black thick rimmed glasses and always-in-a-bun hair didn’t scream the word. I was always the reasonable one too, not to mention responsible. Who do you think was the designated driver for my drunken pals? You got it.

“ Skye! Door’s for you!” my game obsessed brother, Noah, called from downstairs.

Skye Moraine, that’s my name; I think people have all these hopes, because the name sounds like someone gorgeous, someone popular. Though, when they see the real thing, it lives up to nothing really. It’s just plain old me, dyed black hair, dull grey eyes and glasses, and definitely not a celebrity like body. I had a small chest, and I was pretty damn skinny; no matter how much I eat, and I eat a LOT, I just don’t gain anything. Maybe that’s a plus…

I slipped on my yellow flip-flops, and checked myself in the mirror. Tyson was coming to pick me up, and I’ve always had this little crush on him. He wasn’t the most muscular guy, pretty scrawny and lanky, actually. He had the most amazing long light brown hair, and great cheekbones, but it was the eyes that attracted me the most. Those ice blue eyes that held a mystery, waiting for someone to figure him out. Tyson Miller wasn’t the most easy guy to read, nor to understand how he was feeling that day, or ever. I know that I wasn’t in his league, but hell, I could give it a try, right? I’m not as pessimistic as I sound.

As I headed down the stairs, with my suitcase in tow, my crush leaned against the doorway, sunglasses on, and that wonderful lazy smile of his spread across his face. It looked like he just got out of bed and threw on a striped t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, and I loved it. Could this man do no wrong?

“ Hey, Gorgeous,” he greeted, in that low voice of his. Gorgeous? He’s never called me that before. “ Ready to go?”

“ Yeah,” I said, still reeling from the Gorgeous bit.

My mother’s blonde head popped out from the kitchen doorway, “ Leaving now, hon?”

I nodded, as she came to give me a hug, and said, “ Have a lovely trip, and you too, Tyson,”

“ Thanks, Mrs. Moraine,” he did a little bow with his head, and gave her his signature smile.

I rubbed my brother’s curly red hair, “ Have fun without me, geek,”

“ Will do,” he gave me a weird look, and went off to play some more of his mind reducing games.

“ I’ll take that,” he insisted as he took my suitcase from me. “ Guess what we’ll be driving in?”

“ I’m assuming that junk pile crap you bought as soon as you got your license,”

He laughed as we made our way out the door, and looked at his new vehicle with pride, a brand new classic red Cadillac convertible.

My jaw almost dropped, “ Where the hell…”

“ My parents got it for me for a grad present… awesome, no?”

“ Hell, yeah!” I exclaimed, trying to contain my happiness, only because I was the first one he picked up.

“ Hop in to the chariot, milady, and I will put your belongings in the trunk,”

“ What a gentleman,” I joked, sinking into the comfy leather passenger seat. “ Who’s next to pick up?”

“ Sierra,” he answered, a little distracted by the start of his new car. Tsk, tsk, boys and their toys.

Then it dawned on me… Sierra? My heart sunk a little; Sierra was a beautiful blonde… and I knew she had a crush on Tyson too. She was someone definitely in his league.

Now, before you assume, Sierra and I are great friends. We both know we like Tyson; I think secretly we’re almost in this contest for him. Though, Sierra tries harder, as if I’m major competition. It tends to piss me off, but I think she secretly loves to rub it in my face how much better she is in the looks department.

On the way to Sierra’s, it’s quiet, and Tyson doesn’t really notice how much my mood has sunk, even though I’m trying not to dampen my excitement.

He doesn’t notice either when we get to her place, and I am pushed to the backseat, that my mood has sunk to the lowest point.