The Beginning (The Life 1)

The house was relatively quiet, as is to be expected at ten o’clock on a school night. I don’t technically need to sneak out, but I didn’t want to answer any unnecessary questions that I don’t have the answers to. Personally, I want to see what’s in that book.

I’d spent yet another evening thinking about her. She’s the first thing in life that had taken my focus off the endgame, which is not exactly a good thing. I didn’t make provisos for being sidetracked because until one day ago, I didn’t think there was anything that could sway me from my path. But something about her situation keeps pulling at me, and I know I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of this shit.

I’ve already come up with a plan, but since I’m going to need the twins and Ma to help me out, I’m weighing the balance here. It’s not something I can do on my own, but telling them will only activate their nosy gene, and my life will be shit for the foreseeable future. Then again, if I don’t do this, I’ll never know what the hell is going on with her and that stepsister of hers.

I think I have a pretty good idea already, but I need to know the facts before making any preemptive strikes. My family can’t know what I’m up to because, well, that would only open a can of worms that’s better-left shut. As far as they know, I’m the quiet, scholarly type who has no interest in shit other than getting into one of the top schools in the country. I’ve done that for Pop because he wants it so bad.

Gramps, on the other hand, would be overjoyed that one of us was following in his footsteps. He sees nothing wrong with the way things were done in the old days, but that shit has been ingrained in him from an early age; it’s all he knows. The man who’d once denied me because of my blood was now very much holding out hope that I’d be the one to carry on the family tradition. Now here she comes, and my insides are like the fucking warring states of ancient Qing.

I deactivated and reset the alarm in my room and headed out onto the balcony before easing my way down the steps and heading for the garage. I didn’t even try to hide from the guys in the guardhouse because the shit they get paid to do keeps them extra vigilant. Besides, I already know how to slip by them unnoticed; I just don’t want Pop coming down on them for my shit again. The last time I slipped my detail, Pop and Gramps went on a rampage, and I had a new one a day later. I have no clue what happened to the guys.

This time I played it cool, so they won’t grow suspicious and sound the alarm. Losing the ones that were going to follow me is a piece of cake; they won’t tell; I won’t, and as long as I come back in one piece, all is good. I drove down the driveway at a snail’s pace, giving them the false sense that I was just going out for a late-night drive, something I’ve been known to do.

I started grinning when they started swearing when I flew down the street in Pop’s Lambo. I could, of course, hear them since Pop’s vehicles are wired for sound, not sure they know that, though. Whatever! I forgot them as I turned my lights off once I’d lost them and cruised through the familiar streets in a roundabout way to reach my destination.

Lancelot was already there, sitting on the hood of his car, chilling. Of course, he’d beat me here. He didn’t have to evade anyone to get here. He jumped down when I parked next to him and started his fifty questions shit. “So, what are we doing here? You forgot something?”

“Nope, something I want to have a look at.”

“And it couldn’t wait until morning?” I gave him my ‘don’t ask stupid questions’ look.

He didn’t question my picking of the lock to get in because he’d seen it before, but he did question why we were in this particular wing of the school. He swore when we got to the lockers, and he saw her name before I popped the lock. My heart started to race when I saw the book just lying there. There were some other things in there, but I wasn’t about to go through her belongings like some creeper fuck; I just wanted to see if she really had been drawing me.

I flipped to the last page and lost my breath entirely. She hadn’t had much time before she’d been interrupted, but from what little she’d drawn, there was no mistaking that it was me, but according to what she saw, I guess. “Damn, Gia drew that? She’s really good.” A sudden thought hit me in the gut, followed by an inkling of anger. Who the hell else has she drawn in this book? The answer had my knees going weak.