My name is Lola Di Martina.

I live and work at my family's home-style Italian eatery in Manhattan, New York. I mean, they were my adopted family, but family nonetheless. Every day after school I came home to our bustling restaurant that had grown to be a local favorite over the years. This was my life, the way it always had been, and the way I expected it would always be.

But, I guess change is always bound to come, even when you least expect it…even when you really don't want it.

There was one night in particular that changed everything. It was little Matthew Hartley, the neighbor's son's, eighth birthday party and my older sister, Chelsea, and I were expected to attend to it. It was only for three hours; seven p.m. to ten p.m.

"Lola, you and Chelsea need to take out all of this trash…My goodness, that boy is spoiled, look at all this wrapping paper!" my mother exclaimed, throwing her hands up, as Chelsea and I had started cleaning up.

"That was sort of fun, though, he seemed so happy," said Chelsea, smiling. I had always been sort of jealous towards her. She was this pretty, outgoing girl and pretty popular at our school, whereas I was painfully shy and more of an outcast. She had no problem flouncing her shiny blonde curls wherever she went, while I felt more comfortable hiding behind my messy brown bangs.

"Y-yeah, I guess," I mumbled, as we got together a few big black trash bags and headed outside with them.

"I'll race you!" Chelsea exclaimed, as she started running down the dark alley next to the restaurant to where the dumpster was.

"Ugh! Cheals, wai-" I moaned. I freaking hated running. I was about to call for her again, but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard the sound of a trash bag falling to the ground, along with another dull thud. "Ch-chelsea?" I stammered, uneasily. Something was definitely not right.

I walked slowly forward and peered around the corner, my heart suddenly racing.

Shit! I noticed the trash scattered about the ground, right next to Chelsea. who was laying on the ground. What the hell? This was bad. Really, really bad.

I gasped and ran over to her.

"Cheals! Chelsea!" I shouted, trying to get her to wake up. What the hell? Was she- was she dead? Holy crap, she didn't even scream or anything! What the hell happened? I looked around cautiously to see if her attacker was still around. Then I looked back down and noticed a red stain soaking her side. She'd been stabbed. Maybe there was still time. She could…she could-

I was about to scream for help when I finally noticed a figure standing in the shadows. I bit my lip. I didn't know what to do. Chelsea was probably dead and her killer was staring right at me. Was I going to die too? Was this the end? Crap. Shit. All I could do was start crying like an idiot. I was so terrified.

"God, just kill me already, stop standing there!" I finally yelled at the figure. It was like a horrible nightmare. One of those where you try to run, but your feet stay glued to the ground, or you try and scream for help, but your voice is already shot.

To my surprise, the figure just laughed. I couldn't see his face or anything, I could just tell that someone was there.

"I'm not going to kill you. I didn't have orders to kill you. However, I will make it my own mission to destroy you if you tell anyone what you have seen." he said.

"Orders? Are you an assassin?" God, did I seriously just ask that? It was such a stupid question. But then again I was in not in the best state of mind to concentrate on intelligent questions.

"Something like that. Now, you're going to go back and explain to your lovely family that a thug ran by and stabbed poor Chelsea Di Martina, killing her instantly. You are to not tell anyone that you have spoken to me. Not your friends, not your family, nobody," He explained softly, a little too calmly for my liking, considering the situation. From his tone of voice, it seemed as though he were smiling.

I nodded shakily and he vanished. I felt like I was about to pass out. I couldn't believe this was all happening.

Holy. Shit.

Chapter One:

Once my parents found out that Chelsea, our beloved Chelsea, had been murdered, the rest of the weekend was a blur. We closed the restaurant for an entire week. They closed off the alley and many officers and investigators asked me what I had seen. I told them that a thug had stabbed her and that I couldn't tell what he looked like. They put out an alert that a murderer was on the about what the figure in the alley said told me that he meant business. If I said anything he was surely going to kill me.

After careful investigation, they somehow deemed that I was no longer safe in Manhattan. I understood that many people here were robbed and killed and stuff, so it didn't make much since that I out of many witnesses to other murders would be unsafe. Technically, none of us were safe…but I didn't tell them that. I was sent off to this little boarding school in a small town in eastern Connecticut, called Delmont's Academy for boys and girls. My mother drove me there in our family car- the old station wagon.

"I'm really sorry things ended up this way, Lola," she said, right before she was about to drop me off.

"It's…It's not your fault." I shrugged. I had had this numbing feeling ever since that night. I could still hear her murderer's voice resounding in my skull: You are not to tell anyone…not your friends, not your family…no one… I wanted to tell her so bad, but I knew that would be dangerous for the both of us. For all of us.

I knew there had to be a reason for Chelsea's death...but what?

Reluctantly, I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. My mom got out and unlocked it for me, then helped to get my suitcases and backpack out.

"Hey, try to just enjoy it, okay? Don't think about things too much," she said, as I slid the straps of the back pack over my shoulders.

"Okay…"I said.

"Well, I guess I'll see you over winter break. You have your phone with you, so you can always call when you need it," she assured me, suddenly grabbing me and wrapping me into a warm, tender hug. "I'll miss you, Lola. Please stay safe here."

"I'll try," I mumbled against her shoulder.

"Bye, sweetie," she said, kissing me on the forehead, officially sending me off. I sighed and walked up to the school. It looked like a freaking detention center. The last place on earth I wanted to be was at this place. I groaned and trudged inside.

Speaking of which, it was a hell of a lot nicer on the inside –a total relief for me. The tiled floor was nice and clean- cleaner than the ones back at my high school in New York- and the staircases were carpted. I noticed two large halls on one side of the main foyer, each specifying a gender-specific Dorm hall. And it must have been in between classes or something, though, because many guys and girls approximately my age were bustling through the halls, as if there were places they needed to be. I also noticed- much to my dismay- that they all donned navy blue sweater-vests and, for the girls, tan skirts and knee socks. I rolled my eyes and just decided to start looking around for the principal's office.

"Are you lost, hon?" an elderly woman with stringy grey hair came up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Uh…y-yeah, I'm new here. I'm looking for th-the..uh…the main office," I stammered. "I'm new here."

"Hmm, well I thought we had a deadline for enrollment, but I suppose Dr. Rosenthal has made an exception this time…follow me, dear, I'll show you where the office is. In fact, I was on my way there, anyway," she said, leading me down a long, empty hallway to this office area with a large empty desk, three red chairs and a door adjacent to the hall they had just come from. On it was a blue and white plaque that read:


"He seems to be in the middle of something…you can just sit in one of those chairs until he's ready, then." She instructed. I didn't say anything, but went over to sit in the middle red chair as the woman went over to sit at the secretary's desk. Her name plaque read "Mrs. Hampton".

I waited a good ten minutes before that door finally swung open. However, the guy that emerged looked to be a student, not the principal. He had short black hair and almost yellowish-hazel eyes. He was on the taller side,and had sort of an athletic build. He glared at me before roughly seating himself in another one of the chairs. I bit my lip, wondering what he was looking so pissed off about. Negative energy just seemed to ooze out of him. He seemed incredibly pissed off about G-d-knows-what. His presence made me feel almost small and insignificant.

"What?" he snapped when he caught me staring at him. I didn't even notice I was doing it, but felt awkward once he had brought it to my attention.

"S-sorry I was j-just…um…sorry," I stammered. He was so angry, but so…pretty. I didn't know how else to describe him.

"Yeah, well, it's rude to stare," he grumbled. We sat in an awkward silence for about two whole minutes. In those two minutes I thought really hard about how this was a new school, and, in a way, a chance to be outgoing. No one here knew me, so I could technically be whoever I wanted to be. . .right?

"So, ah…what's your name?" I asked, my face turning bright red. Instead of anger, though, his face seemed more surprised than anything.

" Zachariah." He replied. He gave me this weird look, like he felt obliged to be talking to me, not because he actually wanted to. "And…yours?"

"L-Lola Di Martina," I said. I slapped myself internally. Why the hell did I have to sound like a dork and tell him my full name. He studied me for another, rather uncomfortable, minute.

"Well…I'm gonna go now." He said. He didn't say goodbye or anything, he just informed me that he was leaving and left.

Greeeaaat, Lola. Good job on trying to make a good first impression here.

"Now, you must be our other new student, Lola Di Martina, correct?" he asked. Other? Did that mean Zachariah was new, too? Well I guess that meant I hadn't completely blown it yet.

"Yessir." I said, anxiously.

"Well, then, welcome, I have here in this pile, your schedule, a map of the school, your dorm room assignments, a list of extracurricular activities and a packet filled with anything else you may be interested to know about Delmont. Also, We have here a couple of fall/spring uniforms for you as well as a winter one. Here." He passed me the large pile of stuff as he went on to explain other aspects of the school about their 'mission' and expectations and all that. I sort of tuned it all out though, because it was kind of boring.

"And, if you ever need anything, feel free to stop by here," he said. I thanked him despite the fact that I had no idea what he just said, and turned to try and stuff all of those annoying papers and junk into my backpack. I had a bad feeling that I was going to hate it here.

A/N: Soooo this is actually a story I wrote back in freshman year, but I changed it around a lot and I think probably for the better. It was one that never made it out of my notebook, but I'm curious to see what people think of it. I ididn;t like it much when I first started it, but, as they say…One man's trash is another man's treasure….(at least I think that's what they say…ahaha)

Please R&R I would love to know your opinions and whether or not you would be interested in reading more :)