Treasured Secrets (The Coveted Saga 1)

"I guess I have no choice. I've come too far to turn back now." I half smiled as we headed to class.

It was so crowded. McKee pointed to the seat beside him. The teacher went on to explain the work we were about to do after he stumbled and stammered over my name. My mother thought it necessary to give all five of her children every multi-syllable, mouthful name she could find. I'm glad my dad found a way to shorten our exhausting travesties.

I finished the assignment within twenty minutes.

I realized everyone was still working, including McKee, so I pulled out a book to read while I waited. The teacher stared at me impassively, though I could tell he was measuring my actions.

"Ms. Weislen, are you confused by the assignment?" he asked, showing his suspicion.

Crap. All eyes on me.

"No, Mr. Leeson. I’m… finished." My voice was shaky as I stuttered nervously. It was incredibly uncomfortable and extremely nerve-racking to be called out in the middle of class.

His look seemed to become even more suspicious now. Several students turned to look at me, staring at me as though I was a beast with two heads. One girl even rolled her eyes at me and snorted derisively.

I squirmed awkwardly in my seat when I became an unwilling spectacle. Finally, Mr. Leeson spoke with uncertainty in his voice.

"Well, then you need to turn in your work." He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for me to bring my work up to him.

I walked slowly, hoping not to trip and make this even more awkward and embarrassing than it already was. I handed him my work and went back to my seat with a bit more haste.

I continued to read my book. A few minutes later, a shadow leaned over me, disrupting my light. I looked up and Mr. Leeson handed me back my paper, graded. I hadn't gotten a single question wrong.

"Impressive, Ms. Weislen."

He smiled at me admirably. I let out a sigh of relief. I looked over at McKee, who looked up just as I did and flashed me a smile.

The bell sounded, finally, letting us know it was time to go. Mr. Leeson had assigned us homework, but I had already finished it and turned it in on my way out the door.

He smiled at me, shaking his head and snickering slightly. However, this time he seemed pleased. I just smiled back.

McKee came up and draped his arm around my shoulders, giving me a couple of butterflies. "I guess I know who my calculus tutor will be." Then he laughed. "Spanish is next though, and I had it last year. It's pretty tough."

I laughed a bit at his comment before I responded. "I'm actually fluent in Spanish. So I should be okay, I guess."

I didn't feel as confident about that as I should have. I didn't want to sound overly confident, and then find out I didn't know as much as I thought I did.

"Wow. I'm thoroughly impressed right now. Why are you fluent in Spanish?"

His arm was still draped around my shoulders, and the stares from the other girls were even more hateful than they had been earlier.

I tried to ignore the death glares I was getting as I replied to him. "I lived in South America my whole life." I could feel myself blushing from his appraisal.

"Did you have to get a green card or something to come here?" He nodded at Everett walking by. He was staring intensely at McKee and me.

I could hear the distraction in my voice. "No, my mom…" I trailed off for a moment and then finally I broke away from thinking of Everett's peculiar behavior, cautiously watching him pass us completely before continuing. "My mom came back home every time to have us, so that we would be U.S. citizens. So I have a birth certificate, a social security number, a driver's license, now... the whole nine yards."

His lips turned down in a quizzical manner. "But no accent?"

I shrugged, understanding his curiosity. It was a valid point.

"Well, my mom and dad grew up in the states. They were the ones who taught me to speak, so I guess I just adopted their dialect instead of the locals. Not to mention, there were a lot of other Americans in the village I lived in."

"Not much of a South American tan either," he said, motioning to my golden skin.

It was true. I didn't have the deep, rich tan the natives did, but I wasn't pasty either. It almost felt as though he was questioning my honesty. I didn't like that.

"No one in my family tans very well. This is about as dark as we get."