Ethan's Secret E-Book

Patrick Hodges

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Kelsey Callahan is smart, tough and fiercely loyal to her friends. She wants nothing more than to follow in her father's footsteps, and be a detective like her hero, Sherlock Holmes.

A lover of mysteries, she finally gets the chance to solve something on her own when Ethan, a cute but mysterious loner appears in her class. Both fascinated and infatuated with him, Kelsey soon learns there are tragic, dangerous events at play in Ethan's life.

Events that, the deeper she digs, may end up threatening not only their relationship but their very lives.

FINALIST - 2016 READER'S FAVORITE BOOK AWARDS

WINNER - 2017 I.A.N. AWARDS - OUTSTANDING CHILDREN'S FICTION

Ethan's Secret is a standalone novel, and can be enjoyed even if you haven't read other books in the series.

Leseprobe

Ethan's Secret

James Madison Series Book 2

Patrick Hodges

Copyright (C) 2016 Patrick Hodges

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Glenda Rankin

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to all of the amazing people who offered their assistance, advice and opinions during every state of my book's creation, from the conceptual stage to the finished product, which you are now holding in your hand.

This book is dedicated, first and foremost, to my grandmother, Florence Delvalle, the matriarch of our family, who, sadly, passed away in April 2014, only months before my journey as an author began.

A million thanks to my incredible, loving, remarkably patient wife Vaneza, for giving me the inspiration, the time and the support without which I could not fulfill my dreams of creating stories for the world. Heartfelt thanks as well to my parents, Robert and Karen Hodges, who insisted that I use proper English even when I wanted nothing less, and for being a terrific Mom and Dad.

Thanks to Glenda Rankin yet another amazing cover illustration; she is an absolute gem to work with, and I don't think I'll ever use anyone else to bring my characters to brilliant, colorful life.

Thanks to the many voices that helped shaped my ideas into a cohesive story: Lisa Arroyo, for coming up with a brilliant title again; to my sounding boards, Bryan and Kayla; to all the authors and friends I have come to know and respect over the past year – sorry, there are too many of you to list, but you all know who you are – especially the members of YA Author Rendezvous on Facebook, who every single day remind me of why I love doing this, and why I never want to stop.

And lastly, thanks to you, for allowing me to share my story with you.

Reader's Comments

Hodges is an expert of transporting me back to my teen years with his realistic dialogue and awkwardness, giving me a wistful, nostalgic feeling that lasted long after I'd finished the book. And while the main plot revolves around extreme circumstances that's not a fact of everyday life, current issues for teens are addressed through secondary and supporting characters, making it not only an entertaining book, but one that has an important message: to accept your friends for who they are.  –K. Howarth

Patrick Hodges has this rare talent of transporting you into the midst's of his tales. You actually feel as if you are that eighth grader again going through all the angst, awkwardness and excitement associated with being a teen. His characters are real and utterly believable. His story focuses on so many aspects teens find themselves dealing with every day; acceptance, friendship, bullying, trust and first love. I cannot express how in love I am with this story. It will make you laugh, cry, gasp in disbelief, and bring back memories of Dirty Harry. Great job, Mr. Hodges. 5 out of 5 shiny stars! – M. Bryan

Once again, Patrick Hodges reveals a depth of insight into the human condition. Themes such as relationships, loneliness and love are explored with great compassion and empathy. The point of view switches between Ethan and Kelsey were interesting giving distinct voices and interpretations of the same world. The author uses humour and witty banter more strongly in this novel, which serves nicely to balance the dramatic and emotional scenes and increases its liveliness and believability. I highly recommend 'Ethan's Secret' for teenagers, parents and all those who teach and guide children. It's a must for the school library. –E. Cooper

Hodges' writing style stayed consistent from book to book, putting readers at ease from the very first pages. I especially enjoyed the prologue that helped readers make sense of what had happened three years ago to lead Kelsey to be more of who she is today. The side characters rounded out the cast of characters quite well, each helping to populate the story with personalities that were indicative of all the issues that plague teenage life - indecision, lust, courage (or sometimes the lack thereof), and even love. –B. Rodgers

I read Ethan's Secret and it blew me away! As a teenager myself, I thought that the themes were eloquently knitted into the plot and the characters were very believable. I found myself eating up every word, anxious to discover what happened next! Do yourself a favor and read this book! –C. Conn

Prologue

~ THREE YEARS AGO ~

Oh my God. It's happening again.

Today was my first day of fifth grade. I'd only moved to Phoenix two months ago. I didn't know anybody, and nobody knew me. I've always prided myself on my ability to think on my feet, to adapt to my surroundings quickly, and most of all, to make friends. When I stepped off the bus this morning, my first thoughts were: These are kids, just like me, and kids are basically the same wherever you go. Even though I'm the “new girl,” I'm sure I'll find a spot for myself here in no time.

I still felt bad about what had happened to Naomi. I'd tried one last time to call her before we left Denver, but she still wouldn't talk to me. Which is not surprising, given how badly I'd let her down.

Jackie Mitchell had tormented her, bullied her so badly that she'd transferred to another school. I'd tried to be there for her, to give her a shoulder to cry on, but it wasn't enough. When she needed me the most, to get off the sidelines and help her, I'd frozen up. Jackie was just too big, too mean. And I'd been too scared to take her on.

Right before my first class started, I went into the girls' restroom to check my face in the mirror. Not surprisingly, I looked exactly like I did before I left the house this morning: my hair was set in pigtails, and my braces were probably visible from orbit. But I still felt cheerful, happy to officially begin my “fresh start.”

And then it started.

“What are you doing in here?” said a voice behind me.

I turned around to see a girl looking at me. She was about my height, with dark, stringy hair, a tanned complexion and a large nose. She also had a smile on her face, and it wasn't a happy one. Neither were the smiles on the two girls right behind her, who were also staring at me.

“Just checking my face,” I replied.

“Well, bad news, it's still there,” said the girl, and her two friends giggled. She looked me up and down, then took a step forward. “Jeez … Freckles, braces and pigtails? What, were they having a three-for-one sale at the Loser Store?”

Wow. I was right. Kids ARE the same everywhere you go. And that includes bullies. Trying to keep calm, I looked her square in the eye. “Very funny. Who are you, anyway?”

She took another step forward, sticking her big nose inches from my own. “I'm Tonya Sykes. And I run things around here, metal-mouth.”

A couple of other girls came into the restroom, but upon seeing Tonya and her friends, they retreated back out the door. There was no one here but the four of us. “What do you want?” I asked.

Tonya pointed her finger at me. “When I want something, new girl, you'll know, and whatever it is, you'll give it to me. You get that through your spotty head right now, and I won't have to pound you.” Then she pushed her finger into my shoulder blade and gave me a rude shove.

This was so not how I wanted to start my middle-school experience. Meeting her glare, I hitched my backpack up my shoulder. “Can I go to class now, please?” I said this with as much sarcasm as I could put behind it.

She sneered at me for a few seconds, and then gradually stepped aside so I could leave. So did her two friends. Grateful to avoid any further trouble, I sped out the door and off to my homeroom class.

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful. My homeroom teacher seemed like a great lady, and though a few of my classmates shot weird looks my way, I made it through to lunchtime without incident.

And then …

I walked out of the cafeteria, and was about to enter the breezeway that led to the fifth- and sixth-graders' playground when I heard a familiar voice about fifty feet away. I turned my head to see Tonya, her two friends behind her, standing over two slightly smaller girls, who had their backs up against a brick wall.

I looked at Tonya's victims, both of whom I recognized from my homeroom class. One was skinny, with short blonde hair and a pink long-sleeve, and the other was slightly chubby, with long brown hair and a sky blue polo. They were both doing their best not to look Tonya in the eye. By the scared looks on their faces, I figured this was not their first run-in with Tonya and her crew.

I stood, shocked, rendered speechless by déjà vu. In my mind, I pictured Jackie, pushing little Naomi to the ground, laughing cruelly while Naomi cried her eyes out. I'd just stood there that day, watching it happen, glued to the ground in fear. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of getting involved.

And now, not even a year later, here I was, a thousand miles away from where my biggest mistake took place, watching the same thing happen. Again.

I scanned the area for teachers, but I saw none. Only a small crowd of kids that stood well back, watching Tonya and her friends do what I figured they'd been doing for a long time: push smaller girls around.

Time seemed to slow down, and the more I watched, the angrier I became. I could feel my breath getting faster, my heart start to pound, and my hands clench into fists. My eyes narrowed, and my teeth gnashed together.

No. I am NOT making the same mistake twice.

I walked toward Tonya, who had just about succeeded in making the other two girls start crying. “Awww, you want a Kleenex to dry your tears?” She turned back to one of her friends. “Ashley, you got a snot-rag for these two little babies?” Her friend just laughed.

I slowly closed the gap between us. Fifteen feet. I pictured Jackie's face. Ten feet. I heard Naomi crying. Five.

It was then that Tonya finally saw me. She turned towards me with a smirk. “Hey, it's the new girl! I'll be with you in just a –”

Without even waiting for her to finish her sentence, I stepped right up to her, swung my fist around and punched her in the nose as hard as I could. She staggered back, lost her balance and fell down on the sidewalk, landing square on her butt. She raised a hand to cover her nose, staring up at me with complete shock. A trickle of blood oozed between her fingers.

I stood over her, giving her my meanest look, a look I also shot at her two friends, just in case they got any ideas. I raised my fists up to show them I meant business, and they took a few quick steps back. Then I turned my attention back to Tonya, who still hadn't found her voice. Her shocked expression had morphed into one of fear, and a tear had formed at the corner of her eye.

I felt my face flush as I snarled, “I … hate … bullies.” She responded by trying to slide backwards on her butt in retreat. It was obvious no one had stood up to her until now. Good.

“You can call yourself the boss, the President or the Queen all you want,” I said, glaring directly into her eyes. “But if you pull that crap on me, or anyone else, ever again, you … will … be … sorry. You got that?” I held my fists up again, waiting for her to stand up and retaliate.

Without a word, she scrambled to her feet and took off running. Her two friends stared after her for a few seconds, and then hastily walked away in the opposite direction.

After a few more tense moments, I exhaled in relief, and I felt my blood pressure start to return to normal. I looked around, and was rather embarrassed to see about ten kids, mostly girls, staring at me in open-mouthed astonishment. I turned to the two girls on my left, who were still standing against the wall, and they were giving me the same look.

“Miss Callahan!” said a mature voice behind me.

Oh, sure. NOW the teacher shows up.

I turned to see Mrs. Hoffmeyer, my homeroom teacher, striding toward me with a very perturbed look on her face. When she reached me, she put her hands on her hips and said, “I saw that, young lady.”

The chubby girl took a half-step forward, pointing at me. “No, Mrs. H, you don't understand! Tonya was yelling at us! She stopped her!” The blonde girl, who still hadn't taken her eyes off me, simply nodded.

“Is this true?” Mrs. H asked me.

I nodded sheepishly.

She shook her head. “It's the first day of school, young lady, you should know better than this. I do not approve of physical violence between students!”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. H,” I said. “I just thought that, you know … somebody should do something.” I glanced at the two other girls, who were now looking at me with sincere gratitude.

Mrs. H's face softened slightly. “I applaud your spirit, Miss Callahan, but not your methods. I'm afraid I must ask you to accompany me to Principal Baird's office right away.”

I exhaled again. “Okay.”

I moved to walk away when the blonde girl spoke for the first time. “Thank you,” she said simply, her face breaking into a smile.

I stepped toward her, and smiled as well. “You're welcome.”

“Um … I'm Bryanna,” she said, extending her hand.

I took her hand and shook it firmly. “Hello.”

“I'm April,” said the chubby girl, reaching out for a handshake of her own.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking April's hand as well.

“Right now, Miss Callahan,” said Mrs. H impatiently, gesturing for me to follow her.

“Coming.” I turned away, but Bryanna's voice stopped me again.

“What's your name?” she asked curiously.

I looked back at her and April as I started to walk down the sidewalk toward the principal's office. I smiled and called to them, “It's Kelsey.”

Chapter 1

~ DAY 1 (Mon.) ~

KELSEY

“Bruno!” I yelled, throwing the bed-covers off.

With narrowed, tired eyes, I looked at the clock. It read 6:18 AM. I had twelve minutes until I had to get up, but as usual, Bruno had beaten my alarm clock to it. He was only two years old, but I'd already lost count of the number of times I'd been awakened by the sensation of his tail brushing my nose. I loved him dearly, but that didn't mean I wanted his furry butt to be the first thing I saw in the morning.

Bruno skittered into the corner, meowing indignantly, as if I was the one interrupting his day.

“Oh, don't even start with me,” I said, getting to my feet. “Summer's over, fish-breath. It's time to start school again.” He sat on his haunches, looking silently up at me.

In one motion, I whipped off the top of my PJ's and threw it at him. He darted out the crack in the bedroom door he had created upon entering.

I'd always been a pretty low-maintenance girl. I liked going from zero to presentable in as little time as possible, so it didn't take very long to shower, fix my hair, and achieve “smart yet alluring” in my bathroom mirror. I slipped on a new pair of blue jeans and a cool maroon-and-white striped top that I'd bought specifically for the first day of eighth grade, and wandered down the hall to the kitchen.

Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, cracking the pages of his newspaper. He'd already polished off his breakfast, but a mouth-watering plate of scrambled eggs and freshly-cut orange wedges laid waiting on the other side of the table for me, next to a generous glass of cranberry juice. I was starving. Sitting across the table from him, I picked up my fork and started chowing down. I guzzled the cranberry juice in one gulp.

Dad lowered his newspaper, looking at me with his usual paternal glare. “You know, Kel, I promise I won't think less of you if you actually chew your food once in a while.”

“It's your fault, Dad. These eggs are just sooooo delicious, I can't help myself!” I gave him a wink and a grin.

“You want the Tabasco sauce, or should I just pour it into your mouth?”

“Nah, I'm good,” I said through another forkful of eggs.

His face broke into a huge smile. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, Dad,” I said, pouring myself another glass of cranberry juice.

“Bruno got you again, didn't he?”

I smiled back. “He keeps doing that, I swear to God, I'm going to turn him into a pair of slippers.”

“Mmm hmm,” he said, still engrossed in whatever was on Page Three. “You ready to start your final year of middle school?”

“So ready,” I replied, sucking the juicy flesh off an orange peel. “High school's gotta be more exciting than anything that'll happen to me this year.”

He looked at me. “Like the man said, Kel, 'be careful what you wish for'.”

“Yes, but sometimes you wish for something amazing and that's exactly what you get.” I fluttered my eyelids at him. “It'll be great to be back with all the girls again.”

I'd seen my three best friends over the summer, of course, but there was always a certain electricity only present when the four of us got together, which we hadn't since May. I'd been looking forward to that all summer. “Anything interesting in the news?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking another sip from his coffee mug. “That import-export guy we arrested two months ago is finally going on trial.”

I looked at the headline, which announced in big bold letters, 'JURY SELECTION IN LYNCH TRIAL TO BEGIN TODAY.'

I certainly remembered the case. It was one of the most high-profile cases of my dad's career. He'd worked so much overtime during those months that I'd had to fend for myself most of those nights. I didn't mind, but the timing sucked because it coincided with my big brother Tom making arrangements to start college several hundred miles away. I was proud of my Dad having led the investigation to a successful conclusion, because it meant having him back home in the evenings.

“Great,” I said. “Are you going to be called to testify?”

“Probably not,” he said, shaking his head. “We turned everything over to the District Attorney's office the day we slapped the cuffs on him. There's still a lot to do before he's convicted, but thankfully, other cops will be doing most of the legwork.”

“Awesome,” I said semi-interestedly. “Did the D'Backs win?”

He beamed. “Three to two in ten innings.”

“Yay!” I said, gulping down the last bite. “The sun is shining, the D'Backs are winning, and all's right with the world.” I stood up, transferred my empty plate to the kitchen sink, and was just about to leave the room when Dad spoke again.

“Um … aren't you forgetting something?”

My eyes widened, and I ran to him, flinging my arms around his neck. “Have a great day protecting and serving!” I planted a big kiss on his cheek.

He kissed my cheek right back, his thick mustache tickling me as always. “Go kick some eighth-grade butt, K-Bear,” he said with a big smothering hug.

“Will do, Daddy Bear,” I said cheerfully. Within seconds, I had grabbed my backpack and walked out the door, heading for the bus stop.

For the first time, I'm going to school a teenager, I thought as I strode down the sidewalk. Some cute boy who's not a total loser has got to notice me this year. April can't be the only one in our group with something to brag about.

* * *

“So it's really true?” I asked, sighing heavily. “You and Trey Wilson are a 'thing' now?”

“As of last week,” April said. “We started talking at Amelia Lang's pool party last June, and just like that, he asked me out.”

“I know, it's all you've talked about all summer.” I glared at her indignantly. “Hold on a sec … you two have been boyfriend and girlfriend for a week, and you're just telling me now? We talk, like, every day!”

“I know,” she said. “I wanted to wait till school started so I could tell all you guys at once.”

“I hate you.”

She smiled. “No, you don't.”

“No, I don't.” I sighed again. “That's … awesome.”

“I know! Can you believe it?” She looked like she was about to burst.

I nodded. “Why wouldn't I believe it? He was on the soccer team, and you're a track star. Plus, you're my best friend, and I know you've had the hots for him since last year. But …”

“But what?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

Before I could answer, Bree and Penny came over and sat down at our table in the cafeteria. Penelope Collins had only been at James Madison Middle School for a year, and she'd been part of our group for almost the same amount of time. Bree had been the first one to not treat Penny as the “new girl,” and Penny had pretty much been glued to Bree's side ever since.

I was glad to have Penny around. She'd filled a large void in our group after the twins, Jessy and Riley, moved to Pennsylvania right after sixth grade when their mother got remarried. She had a very pleasant, carefree personality, which was complemented by her beautiful, wavy, shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair.

“Hey, guys,” Penny said.

“Hey, Penny. Hey, Bree,” I replied.

“Are we interrupting?” Bree asked.

“Not at all,” I said. “I was just about to tell April that having a boyfriend in high school is just asking for trouble.”

Penny's eyes widened. “Really, April? You and Trey Wilson are a 'thing' now?”

April nodded. “Since last week.”

A glare crept over Bree's face. “You've been boyfriend and girlfriend for a week and you didn't say anything? I hate you!”

I grinned. “No, you don't.”

Bree also grinned. “No, I don't. But still …”

April gave a dreamy smile. “I think he could be The One.”

Bree, Penny and I all looked at each other, and we simultaneously rolled our eyes.

“Hey, I saw that,” said April with a frown. “What's your problem?”

“No problem,” I said. “It's just that every time some cute guy smiles at you, you think he's 'The One'.”

April looked horrified. “Oh, that is so not true!”

“Remember Warren Simms?” Penny asked.

“Puh-leez,” April said. “That perv wouldn't be 'The One' if he was the only 'one' on Earth.”

“Kyle Crawfish?” Bree said, smirking.

April made a sour face. “Craw-FORD, Bree. And I was only nice to him because he's friends with Eric Springer.”

“Aaaaannnnd then there's Eric Springer,” I said, grinning mischievously.

April opened her mouth, looking like she was about to object again, but then her shoulders slumped. “All right, you got me there,” she said, smiling. We all laughed.

April was an awesome friend. She was one of the smartest people I knew, and the first to offer help when you needed it, but she'd always been self-conscious because of her weight. Ever since she hit her growth spurt and got herself into great physical shape, she'd gotten a lot more of the boys' attention. The boys were now looking at her for all the wrong reasons and didn't appreciate the smart girl within. She was fast and strong, and she was lucky enough to be more … developed than most of the other girls. She could easily pass for fifteen, possibly sixteen if she wore makeup. Her problem was that she hadn't yet learned how to be more selective with her crushes. But that's why she has the three of us.

“I'm not saying Trey's a bad guy, April,” I said. “I'm just saying that going out with a freshman is dangerous, is all. He's surrounded by high-school girls all day long, and you can't be there to watch him. You really think he's going to tell everyone in his class that he's dating someone still in middle school?”

“He only lives five blocks from me, Kelse. We'll see each other plenty.”

“And your parents are okay with that?” asked Bree.

“As long as I keep my grades up and don't miss any practices, they're cool.”

Smiling, I reached into my backpack, pulled out a thick black marker, and handed it to April. “Then you'd better take this.”

April took the marker with a puzzled look on her face. “What's this for?”

“For that,” I said, pointing at her backpack, which was on top of the table next to her lunch-tray.

We all turned to look at April's backpack, where “A.H. + E.S.” was still proudly displayed at the center of a perfectly-drawn heart. April's face turned as red as a raspberry.

Immediately, April uncapped the marker and started scribbling over the heart design. “Thanks, Detective,” she said. Penny and Bree just chuckled. Thank God she's got the three of us.

* * *

Right after lunch and recess was Mr. McCann's fifth-period Algebra class. I'd heard good things about him; he was like everybody's favorite uncle … you know, the goofy one that never really grew up, who doesn't visit as much as you want him to. He was cheerful most of the time, and even laughed when the students gave him silly nicknames, no matter how unflattering they were. By a happy coincidence, April, Bree and I were all in the same class. We made sure to immediately find seats near each other.

Mr. McCann came into the room, and the class giggled at his rainbow-colored wig, oversized glasses and clown nose. “Welcome to the exciting world of Algebra!” he said, way too enthusiastically to be serious. “Can I get a boo-yah?” Everyone smiled.

“Boo-yah,” a few less-than-enthusiastic voices replied.

He frowned. “Oh, come on, guys,” he said, holding his hands over his head, “can I get a boo-yah?”

“Boo-yah,” came the reply, only just slightly louder than before.

“Well,” Mr. McCann said, smiling broadly. “We'll work on that.” He picked up a clipboard from his desk. “I'm Roger McCann, but you can call me 'McClown' if you want … that's what my mom does!”

A few more kids laughed out loud, including me. This might be fun after all.

“And now that you know who I am, let me get to know who you are!”

He went down an alphabetical list of students, all of which I knew; when I moved from Denver to Phoenix three years ago, I figured if I knew everyone's name, it would help me fit in better. It worked like a charm. Well, that and that other thing.

“Kelsey Callahan?” called Mr. McCann.

“Here,” I said, raising my hand.

Everyone knew me, and pretty much everyone got along with me. My showdown with a quartet of eighth-grade bullies three years ago was still talked about to this day, but had been magnified to almost ridiculous proportions over time. I occasionally had to remind kids that I didn't karate-chop the bullies into a bloody pulp, and my superhero cape was folded neatly in the back of my closet. Recalling that event also made me think of Joshua and Eve, and the friendship I'd built with them despite being three years younger.

“April Hendricks?”

“Here,” April replied.

I looked down at April's backpack, which had a huge ugly black splotch on it where the heart-design had been only an hour ago. I hoped that April's latest romance went a little better than the last one; finding out that Eric had secretly been sending love-texts to Elizabeth Cave at the time he'd been going with April required two hours of hand-holding while April cried on my shoulder. I really didn't want a repeat of that afternoon.

“Bryanna Rodgers?”

“Here,” said Bree.

Bree was like the sister I never had. She had short blond hair and a pretty face that to this day reminded me of some kind of elfin creature from a storybook tale. The two of us had managed to stay away from the whole 'boys' fiasco thus far; not because boys hadn't shown an interest, but because the boys that had done so had little to no appeal for either of us … or, at least, that's what I told myself. When you have a cop for a father, you have to pick your prospective crushes VERY carefully.

“Darryl Wyckoff?”

“Here,” said a boy on the far side of the room.

Roll call is soooo boring. But I knew Darryl was dead-last on the alphabetical list of students, so at least now we could get on with class.

“And finally … Ethan Zimmer.”

I sat bolt upright. I looked at April and Bree with a puzzled look on my face. They wore equally puzzled expressions, and were shrugging their shoulders. We were obviously all thinking the same thing: Who the heck is …?

“Ethan Zimmer?” Mr. McCann repeated after a long pause.

“Uh, here,” said an unfamiliar voice.

I turned around and looked behind me. Sitting in the back row was a cute boy that I'd never seen before. He had dark brown spiky hair and wore a black hoodie, a black Metallica T-shirt and black jeans. I locked eyes with him for a few seconds, and then he looked away.

I stared at him for a few moments. Ethan tried to act nonchalant as he watched Mr. McCann, surrounded by thirty total strangers.

I saw something during that brief moment of eye contact. Something sad. Something scary. Something … dangerous. In that instant, I felt a surge of blood rush right to my head.

Interesting …

* * *

For the rest of the day, I thought about Ethan, trying my best to keep my thoughts hidden from April and Bree. I watched as he made his way from Algebra to Mr. Chambers' English class. A lot of the other boys looked at him, obviously realizing they had a stranger in their midst, but no one took the time to greet him. Sucks being the new guy.

Lots of kids liked to chat me up on the school bus, especially underclassmen that were in awe of the tall tales that still circulated about me. Today, however, I wasn't in the mood, so I took my usual seat near the center of the bus and stared out the window as the bus pulled out of the school parking lot.

There was nothing I loved more than a mystery. My father got me interested in crime-solving stories almost as soon as I outgrew my “Disney Princess” phase: Harriet the Spy, Encyclopedia Brown, Nancy Drew, Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, I devoured any story I could find that had an air of mystery to it.

I hadn't yet decided whether I wanted to become a police officer like my dad. Plenty of time for that, I often thought. Trouble was, middle-school life lacked the mystery that filled the books lining my bedroom shelves. The chance to actually solve something real was tantalizing, and Ethan Zimmer might just give me that chance. Who was he? Where did he come from?

There was something about his body language that didn't seem to fit, even for someone fidgeting his way through his first day at a new school. And that look in his eyes … he seemed lost. Scared, even.

Maybe it's nothing. Ethan's an unknown, a new face in a sea of familiarity. Am I crushing on him? He is really cute. And it was bound to happen sooner or later …

“Soph, you're in middle school now,” a nearby voice said. “You can't go around hugging everyone you know anymore.”

I snapped out of my daydream, and found myself staring at two very pretty younger girls that were sitting in the seat just across the aisle from me. One of them had long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes that shone with fierce intelligence. The other, slightly younger girl had a round face framed by blondish hair set in a braided ponytail and glasses.

“But they're my friends!” said the younger one. “I haven't seen them in months! I missed them!”

“I missed my friends too, but I don't go around hugging them all.”

“I don't hug everyone, Kirsten. Just the people I really like.”

OMG. Eve's little sisters. I'd only spoken to Kirsten on the bus a few times last year, and the only times I'd ever seen Sophie were in the stands at Joshua's soccer games three years ago. Seeing them both together made all my fifth-grade memories come flooding back. “Kirsten? Sophie?” I said, smiling.

Both of them turned to face me. Sophie looked puzzled, wondering how this eighth-grader knew who she was. After a few seconds, though, a huge smile broke out on her face. “Kelsey!” she squealed, leaping up and throwing her arms around my neck. I also smiled, returning the hug. Kirsten smiled but remained seated.

“Still a hug-monster, I see,” I said after Sophie had peeled herself off of me.

Sophie giggled. “Only for friends.”

Kirsten shook her head. “Trouble is, she thinks everyone's her friend.”

I couldn't stop smiling. The two little munchkins had grown up and were now in middle school. My middle school. “You guys look awesome,” I said.

“So do you,” replied Sophie. “You're so tall now! And didn't you used to have braces?”

“Got 'em off last year.” That was one of the happiest days of my life, and I followed that up by getting my shoulder-length, chestnut-colored hair styled properly. No more dorky pigtails. I now stood a respectable five-foot-four, and even though no boy had specifically paid extra attention to me, I wasn't completely against the idea. Too bad all the cute boys were taken. Or jerks. Or both.

“I didn't see you on the bus this morning,” I said.

“Eve got her license this summer,” said Kirsten. “She and Joshua drive us to school in the mornings.”

“Still going together, are they?” I asked, my eyes widening.

“Are you kidding?” Sophie said, beaming. “There's no stopping those two. They go everywhere together.”

Kirsten smiled. “You wouldn't even recognize Joshua, Kelsey. He's as tall as our dad now.” She dug a cell phone out of her backpack, pushed a few buttons and handed it to me.

I took the phone and gasped. On the tiny screen was a picture of Joshua and Eve, standing in front of what looked to be a brand-new car, judging by the huge bow that was on top of it. They had their arms around each other, of course, and Eve was holding up a set of car keys in celebration.

Three years ago, Joshua was a small, skinny kid, only a couple of inches taller than me. That had all changed. Now he was tall, well-built and handsome as hell, even with the glasses. And Eve … My God, she looks phenomenal. I hope I look half that pretty when I'm sixteen.

“Wow,” I said, handing the phone back with a huge smile. “They look amazing together. I couldn't be happier for them.”

“They haven't forgotten what you did for them,” said Kirsten.

“That's good to know.” I sighed. “Tell them I said 'hi,' okay? I miss them.”

“Don't you talk to them anymore?” asked Sophie.

I shrugged. “We text each other sometimes. Nothing long, just 'hey, how ya doing, goodbye,' that kind of thing.”

“Look at it this way … next year you'll be in high school with them,” said Kirsten.

I brightened. I hadn't thought of that. “That's true.”

“So … what have you been up to?” Sophie asked.

My mind struggled to come up with even one interesting thing that happened to me over the summer, or, indeed, since fifth grade, when I became something of a minor celebrity.

“Um …” I mumbled. Geez, has my life really become THAT boring?

Chapter 2

~ DAY 1 (Mon.) ~

ETHAN

This isn't my bedroom ceiling. Where am I again?

I opened my eyes all the way, scanning the room for something familiar. I saw a dresser, a desk, and a chair. No other furniture. A few posters hung on the walls, depicting rock bands that I'd barely heard of and had never had enough interest to listen to. I tapped a button on the ancient AM/FM clock radio next to the bed, silencing the annoying-as-hell buzz that insisted on waking me every morning.

Oh, yeah. Right. This IS my room. It's been three weeks, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. Sigh.

I missed my old room. It wasn't much, but at least it was mine. I missed my old neighborhood, my buds, my routine. I even missed going to school.

School.

Oh, crap.

I leapt out of bed, pulling on the black denim jeans that were draped over the chair. Grabbing the cleanest-looking T-shirt I could find off the pile in the corner, I turned the knob of my bedroom door. My father was standing there, smiling. I appreciated that he was trying to reassure me, but it was going to take more than a smile to do that. A lot more.

“Yeah, Pop, I'm up, I'm up,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “Go get yourself ready. Make sure your brother's ready too. Breakfast will be waiting for you.” He turned and walked back down the hall.

I put my shirt on, then knocked on the door of the room right next to mine. “Who is it?” came a voice from within.

I sighed. “It's the Tooth Fairy. You ready to go?”

“I don't wanna go to school,” said the voice. “It's not my school anyway.”

Damn, I hope he's not in one of his moods. “It's not my school either, Sketch, but I'm going.”

The door opened, and my ten-year-old brother emerged with an angry frown. “Can you please not call me that anymore … Ethan?”

“Dude, chill,” I said, smiling. “It's a compliment. Your drawings are awesome, you know.”

“Whatever,” he replied. “I still don't like it.”

“Fine. Let's get ready for our big day, Logan.” My eyebrows went up. “Happy now?”

Together we went into the bathroom. I glopped a healthy dose of hair gel into both my scalp and Logan's. By the time it dried, we looked about as close to being spiky-haired bad-boy loners that we were ever going to get. I still felt like it was a complete stranger staring back at me from the mirror.

Logan had his head turned, looking at himself in the same mirror. “How do I look?” he asked hopefully.

“Like a stud,” I teased. “Those fifth-grade girls will be all over you.”

He made a disgusted face. “Ewww. Girls can stay the heck away from me.” He raised himself up on the balls of his feet. “Not bad,” he said in self-admiration. “What's the big whoop about girls, anyway? They're gross.”

I sighed. “Betcha a month's allowance you'll feel completely different before the school year's out.”

“You're on,” he said, grinning.

Too easy.

The kitchen table had our traditional Monday breakfast on it: a bowl of Frosted Flakes, a piece of lightly-buttered, slightly-burned toast, and a glass of OJ. “Hey Pop,” Logan said, shoveling cereal into his mouth.

Pop, already dressed, was sitting on the sofa watching the morning news. “Hey boys. We're on the road in ten minutes.”

I sighed, looking around our sparsely-furnished house, at Pop, and at my brother. None of us were smiling.

My name is Ethan Zimmer, and my life sucks.

* * *

From the back seat of the car, I stared out the window as we drove to school. The neighborhood was nice, I guess, but it felt so weird. Out of boredom, I looked at the names of all the streets we passed, trying to memorize them. Logan was fidgeting as usual, staring out the other window.

“You'll like this school, boys,” Pop's voice said from the front seat. “James Madison has a good record for academics, and it even has art classes.”

I smiled at Logan, who wasn't paying attention. “Hear that, Sketch? Art class!”

He turned to me, made a face and then punched me in the arm as hard as he could.

“Ow!” I cried.

“Don't call me that!” he yelled.

“Knock it off, boys,” Pop said firmly. “Please don't make this any harder.”

“He started it!” said Logan.

“Enough!” Pop screamed, turning back to face us. “This move has been tough on all of us, but we have to make the most of it, okay? We need to pull together as a family if we're going to make it through this.”

Logan's shoulders slumped. Pop was right. Like it or not, we were in a new city, with new lives.

The car passed through an open entry-gate, and I could see the words “James Madison Middle School” proudly displayed on the front of the main building. We drove through the parking lot, pulling up to an empty space near the curb.

Pop pointed to a door right below the sign. “There's the main office. They'll tell you where you need to go.” His face softened, and he tried once again to smile reassuringly. “It'll be okay, boys. You can do it. You wearing the watches I gave you?”

“Yeah, Pop.” I showed him the new wristwatch he'd given to both me and Logan the day we moved into the new house. It was cool, but it didn't really go with everything else I was wearing. At least the sleeve of my hoodie covered it up.

I sighed, opening the door and stepping out. Logan also jumped out.

“Pick you up at 3:45 right here, okay?” Pop said.

We nodded, slamming the door shut. A few seconds later, the car sped out through the exit gate.

Logan and I collected our course schedules and our books, as well as a crude map of the school. The fifth- and sixth-grade students had their classrooms on the south side of the school, whereas the seventh- and eighth-graders had theirs on the north end, with the cafeteria in between. Logan was lucky enough to have one teacher for all of his classes except Math, but I had five different teachers and six classes. It was pretty basic: Social Studies, Science, Literature, Phys Ed, Algebra and English Comp.

We stepped out onto the main sidewalk of our new school. I was just about to head off to find my first class when Logan grabbed my arm. “Ethan, I don't know if I can do this.” His eyes glazed over, and I could see terror in his eyes.

I crouched down so I could look him in the eye. “Can I let you in on a little secret, Ske … uh, Logan?”

He nodded, his eyes moist.

“I don't want to do this either,” I said. “I want it all back the way it was. But this is how it is now. You and I have our jobs to do, just like Pop does. And we have to do it for him. The two of us have to stick together. We're the Zimmer boys, and we're tough. You understand? We'll get through this, you and I. Promise me you'll be tough?”

“But what if I can't?” A lone tear appeared on his face, which he quickly wiped away.

“You can, Logan. You're the toughest little sister I've ever had,” I said, smiling back at him.

“Hey! That's not nice,” Logan said, a smile cracking through the look of fear.

“You're gonna be fine, little brother … I'll see you in a while. Good luck with your classes. Make some friends, okay?”

I playfully tousled his out-of-control hair and sent him down the main sidewalk. For a moment, I forgot about how bad I felt. As hard as this was for me, it had to be harder on him. I had to make sure he was alright; he was my little brother, after all.

* * *

Pop was right: this was a nice school. The other kids were well-dressed, there was no graffiti on the walls, and a couple of the girls I caught looking at me out of the corner of their eyes were actually pretty cute. I was glad that I was tall for my age, or I'd probably be getting razzed as the 'new kid' already.

The one thing this school didn't have was any familiar faces.

I sat in the back row of each of my classes. By lunchtime, I'd gotten used to people staring at me. You'd think they'd never seen a guy in a T-shirt before. The cafeteria was full of kids, and it took me a moment to realize that for whatever reason, the boys and the girls were eating their lunches in separate sections. I figured this had to be a school rule, because all the kids looked comfortable enough obeying it. None of the boys invited me to sit next to them when I walked in, so I just went to an unoccupied table on the edge of the boys' section. I ate facing the window so I wouldn't have to watch my new classmates sneaking glances at me.

Most of my teachers were old and stuffy, but Algebra class was different. The moment I caught sight of Mr. McCann in his clown get-up, my mood improved. Here I was, a stranger in a new school, and it took a silly math teacher to make me feel welcome. It was hard not to break out laughing, but I kept it in. If I was going to be a 'bad boy,' I wouldn't be the troublemaking kind who broke every rule he could … I'd be the kind who just didn't give a crap. That I can pull off.

I started thinking about Scotty Davidson, and how I picked on him when he was the 'new kid' back in sixth grade. I was such an a-hole back then. Bet he would laugh his butt off if he could see me now. Sigh.

“And finally … Ethan Zimmer,” Mr. McCann said.

I blinked my eyes a few times, taking a few seconds to remember where I was. Oh yeah, Algebra. Mr. McCann was reading off names of students. Did he just call my name?

“Ethan Zimmer?” Mr. McCann repeated.

“Uh, here,” I said, raising my hand slightly. A few kids chuckled that I couldn't even seem to remember my own name. Just then, a girl sitting three seats in front of me turned around and looked me directly in the eyes. Not a mere glance, but a full-on stare.

She had straight, shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes and a few freckles. She was definitely cute. I'd known a few girls with freckles, and most of their faces looked like maps of the moon. This girl actually made freckles look good.

As we looked at each other, I suddenly wished I'd paid attention while Mr. McCann was taking roll call. Whoever this girl was, she seemed to be much more curious about me than everyone else was. After a few seconds, though, her unwavering attention crossed the line from flattering to uncomfortable, so I looked away. My thoughts raced. There's something cool about her. I don't know what, but there's definitely something …

I watched her for the rest of class, wondering – hoping? – she might turn around again, but she didn't.

The rest of the day passed with relatively little else interesting happening. James Madison was definitely not the worst place in the world. Just a sea of faces in a new school, in a new life, on a new planet.

At twenty minutes to four, Logan and I met on the main sidewalk in front of the school to wait for Pop. “So, bro, how'd it go?” I asked.

Thankfully, he seemed to be in a much better mood than this morning. “Not bad,” he said with a slight smile. “I found both my classrooms, and I met a really cool guy who loves video games as much as me. He already said I could hang out with him during recess.”

“That's awesome,” I said, nodding. How about that. He made a friend, just like I said. Now maybe I should follow my own advice.

* * *

“So how was your first day?” Pop asked, sliding a plate of microwave spaghetti in front of us. Logan immediately started chowing down.

“Good,” he said, talking with his mouth full.

“How about you?” Pop asked, turning to face me.

“Okay, I guess,” I said, idly twirling my fork through my spaghetti.

“Did you make any friends?” Pop asked, cracking open a beer he'd gotten from the fridge.

“I did,” said Logan. “His name's Sean. He's in the sixth grade. He talks with a really cool accent … I think he's English or something.”

“That's nice.”

Logan continued, “His brother Sebastian's in the eighth grade, and he's in a band. Sean's actually heard of …” he trailed off, reading the shirt he wore to school, “… Poison. I had to pretend I liked them too. But now he thinks I'm cool.”

Pop grinned. “Maybe I'll give you my old CD's to play, so you won't have to pretend.”

I grimaced. “How about a PlayStation? There's nothing else to do here but watch TV.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Pop said, nodding.

“And how about a cell phone while you're at it?”

Pop frowned. “That's not gonna happen, and you know it.” He paused. “Did you meet anyone today?”

“Not really,” I said, which was the truth. But at that moment, all I could picture was the face of that girl with the freckles.

Chapter 3

~ DAY 8 (Mon.) ~

KELSEY

“Okay, guys, it's been a week. Have you found out anything about Ethan?” I asked.

April, Bree and Penny just shook their heads.

Dang it. I loved solving puzzles. Dad used to buy me those little word-search books that he found in the supermarket check-out line, and I'd finish the entire thing in less than a day. Crosswords, cryptograms, logic problems, even Dad's old Rubik's Cube didn't pose much of a challenge to me. But solving the puzzle that was Ethan Zimmer was becoming frustrating.

“Nothing? At all?”

“What do you want, Kelse? The guy doesn't talk! He doesn't even sit with anyone at lunch!” April said, taking a swig from her bottle of flavored water. “I've walked by him on the concourse, even smiled at him a few times. He looked at me, but didn't smile back.”

“He sits pretty close to me in sixth-period English,” said Penny. “I said 'hi' a couple of times, you know, just to be friendly.”

“And?”

“He said 'hi' back. That's it. He was polite about it, at least … it was a nice 'hi,' not a 'hi, now get lost' kind of 'hi'.”

“And that's it?” I asked.

“That's it. He doesn't even raise his hand in class. Like April said, he just doesn't talk.”

I glanced over at Bree, who was staring at me. “What is it, Bree?”

Bree didn't respond; she just kept staring.

I met her gaze for a few seconds, but Bree didn't change her expression. “Bree!”

That snapped her out of it. “What? Oh, sorry, Kelse. What were we talking about?”

“Ethan Zimmer … you know, the new guy?”

“Oh, him,” said Bree, finally looking away. “What's your deal with him, anyway? Maybe he's just shy. Maybe he doesn't want to fit in. Did you think of that?”

“Of course I've thought of that,” I said. “But I don't know … something tells me that there's more to him than that.”

April smirked. “You're totally crushing on him.”

“No, I'm not!”

“You kinda are, Kelse,” Penny said, popping a Frito into her mouth. “Let's put it to a vote … everyone who thinks Kelsey has a crush on Ethan, raise your hands.” All three of my friends raised their hands in unison, though I saw a frown on Bree's face as she did so.

I sighed, my face reddening. “Okay, maybe a little. He is pretty hot.”

“I guess,” Bree said, a little more dismissively than I expected.

“You don't think so?”

“He's not really my type. All-black clothes and spiky hair? No thanks.”

I thought for a few moments. “Bree, do you even have a 'type'?”

Bree frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “In all the time we've been friends, I've never heard you say that any guy was cute.”

April looked at Bree. “Neither have I.”

Bree suddenly looked nervous. “Why should I be into any of the guys in this school? None of them seem to be into me.”

“That's not true!” April said. “Didn't Tyler Wilcox ask you out that one time?”

“He only did that because I sat next to Tawny DeBlasio in Computer Lab,” Bree retorted. “They'd only broken up the day before. That slut gave me crap about it for weeks.”

“That sucks, Bree,” said Penny with an equally sad look. “But that doesn't mean there isn't someone out there who … likes you.”

“No, just no one with the guts to tell me they do.”

“Come on, Bree,” I said. “Just last week, Savannah Hoover told me in P.E. class that Carly Nowak told her that she overheard Ryan Butler telling Keith Mansfield that he thinks you're cute.”

Bree looked surprised. “Ryan Butler from the yearbook committee?”

“No, the other one. Of course, the one from the yearbook committee!”

“He's … okay, I guess,” Bree said, looking down at the table. “But then, Carly's been known to exaggerate. A lot.”

“That's very true,” said Penny. “I wouldn't believe her either.”

Not helping, Penny! “Well, we can talk about that later. Does Ethan ride on any of your buses?”

One by one, they shook their heads.

“Maybe he rides a bike,” said April.

“Maybe,” I said. “Penny, can you follow him after sixth period today and find out?”

Bree exhaled. “You're really going to do this, aren't you?”

“We're in the eighth grade, Bree, it's not like our lives are that exciting anyway,” I replied.

“Whatever.”