Page 2 of Secret

“It's Izzy, my friends call me Izzy. What’s your name?” I ask him.

I’m still looking at his face, trying to see the truth behind his words. I get the feeling he is a closed book as far as emotions go, but I can see some kindness, and that's enough for me to try to relax.

“I’m Harley King, nice to meet you Izzy.” He smiles, and it takes me a minute to realise he kind of looks like I do in pictures when I smile.

I stand up quickly, putting some distance between us because it’s a little bit too much.“What did you mean when you said you would take me back with you, and custody?” I try to ask calmly and kind of fail when my voice is high-pitched and squeaky as I talk.Real smooth, Izzy.

“I meant that you’re coming to live with me, as you have no other blood relatives as far as I know. I have custody of you, so it’s all above board. I have custody of my three younger brothers, too,” he pauses, “well, your brothers, too.” I watch as he scratches his head with a huff, and he sits down on the sofa and straightens his suit jacket before saying, “I know this is hard for you to believe, andtrust me,this whole situation is difficult.

“Our father is dead. I took over when he died. I was twenty, and the twins, Sebastian and Elliot, were fifteen. Luke was fourteen. It was difficult, but I made it work. I later found out–from a letter from Dad’s will–about you. It had the results of a DNA test done when you were a baby, and an old address and number of yours. Of course, it's taken me two years to find you due to all the moves you, and your mother, had taken.” He stops talking and looks up to meet my eyes, “I'm sorry for your loss by the way.”

I nod and sit next to him, taking it all in.I have four brothers.I guess he is right about us moving when I think about it. My mother just liked to see new places, and I was taken along for the ride. Yesterday, I had no one, now I have a family, and I am moving away from my crazy, foster family.This shit seems unbelievable.

“All right, I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve done everything I can to leave my crazy, foster parents. So, this could work for me. I mean, moving to your place, and then we can see how things go. I guess I would like to meet the rest of you and learn about you. How old are my brothers now?” I ask, looking at Harley, who looks around twenty-three.So, they can’t be that old.

“The twins are seventeen, like you, and Luke is sixteen. I'm so glad you’ll come. I thought I'd have a massive fight on my hands with getting you to come with me,” he says with a grin, which makes me smile too.

He stands up, claps his hands together, getting the attention of my head teacher, and starts talking to him about sending my paperwork over for the switching of my school. I notice he makes a very a large payment to the school to help hurry up my paperwork. I look at him now, in his perfect suit, and frown. I glance down at my baggy hoodie and shabby jeans then finally to my worn trainers I have had for at least two years.I'm not going to fit into their world.

As we head to my house in his massive, black SUV–which is shinier than most of the cars in my small town–I sit wondering what Harley will think of my foster parents or their home.Let’s hope the place doesn’t still smell like vodka when we get there.

Chapter2

IZZY

“Izzy, we need to go soon. I understand if you want to wait until tomorrow to pack and say your goodbyes,” Harley comments while pulling the car into the parking space next to the house.

I sit back and glance around at the house I’ve spent part of my life living in. The front of the house has long grass, which is mostly weeds, covering the small, front lawn and cracked pavement leading to the door. The house, itself, hasn’t been worked on for years, and it’s clear from the outside. My lazy, and possibly crazy, foster parents wouldn't bother leaving the house to do any work on it. Well, they didn’t care enough to make me mow it or risk neighbours seeing me working my ass off for them. It’s a nice neighbourhood with decent people living here, and they need to keep up some kind of appearance. So many memories are bad here, but also, in some ways, this place made me stronger.

“No. I only have a bag of things. So it will only take me half an hour to pack. Do you want to wait?” I ask, hoping he will stay. I secretly don't want to be alone with them when they find out I'm leaving. They have never hurt me, but throwing things near me and screaming at me is normal for them. Frowning, I think of times when it had been worse when they’d been drinking, which I’m guessing they have been by now.It is midday.

“Yes. I need to tell them about you leaving with me,” he tells me and then frowns. “Well, your foster parents should have received a phone call or letter explaining anyway.” He hesitates as he stares at the house. “Why have you only got one bag? What about your clothes and, well, girl stuff?” he asks while pulling out the car keys.

I nearly sigh in relief that he's not leaving me here, and I reply quietly, “I don't have many clothes or other things.” I try to get out of the car, not wanting to discuss this anymore, but a large hand on my upper arm gently stops me. He huffs, bringing my attention back to him as he moves his hand.

“Seb is going to love spoiling you with my credit card. Money has never been a problem for us, and you might hate us for spoiling you, but we are going to,” he says with a cheeky grin, and then he laughs loudly as he gets out of the car.

I frown at his statement about spending so much money on me, but my nerves get the best of me and don’t let me think about it anymore. I straighten up and walk into the house, with Harley following me. We walk into the living room, where my foster dad is passed out, face-down on the sofa with a bottle of vodka in his hand. I’m guessing Vivian is at one of her friends’, as she is nowhere to be seen.

“I wouldn't wake him up if I was you. I’ll go and pack,” I say in a whisper, shrugging at Harley as he glares at Fred on the sofa. He looks around the room in disgust before smiling at me with a look of pity behind his gaze.

As I walk past him, he tells me to hurry up. I suppress a smile at that and run up to my room. I throw my three pairs of jeans, four tops, and my leggings into a bag. I get all of my underwear and the necklace my mother gave me. It’s the only thing my foster parents haven't sold of mine. The memory of my mother comes rushing at me as I hold the necklace.

I know I shouldn’t be looking in Mum’s jewellery box, but everything is so pretty. I’m only seven, so Mum won’t be too mad. I open the worn, wooden box, and inside are pretty, little earrings I’ve seen my mom wear, and, in the middle, is a very pretty, purple necklace I’ve never seen. I pull it out, holding it up in the air as it sparkles in the light from the window, making me giggle.

“Elizabeth,”the angry voice of my mother makes me jump and turn, and I see her standing in the doorway.Her white-blond hair is up in a messy bun from cleaning, and she is wearing a pretty, red dress.

Her face softens slightly before she lets out a long breathand comes over to me. She kneels in front of the stool I’m sitting on and takes the necklace out of my hand gently.

“It’s real pretty, Mummy,” I say, frowning at my mummy’s sad face.

“It is, isn’t it? I haven’t looked at this in years. It’s called a sapphire,” she tells me.

“Who gave you it, Mummy?” I ask as she stares at the necklace in her hand. The sapphire is about the size of her thumb and shines like my mummy’s blue eyes.

“The man who still holds my heart, baby. I just can’t let this go,” she whispers the end part to herself, then she stands up, putting the necklace back into her box and holding her hand out to me.

“Do you want to go and get ice cream? Mummy could use some chocolate ice cream,” she smiles, making me laugh.

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