Part 1-The Secret Chapter 1
"911, what's your emergency?" The phone shook in my hand as I quickly stared around, waiting for my angered mother to burst through my door at any moment. Trying not to waste another precious second, I quickly whispered into the speaker.
"My mom is in a drunken rage! She's hitting me again!" I winced as I heard the beer bottle smash against the wall, and tried not to imagine the newly formed glass that she could use as a weapon.
"I need your name, age, and address please." The woman on the other end seemed frighteningly calm, but I knew that it was part of her job. Trying to ignore my heart pounding in my throat, I gave her the information, hoping that the police would come soon. After reading back the information, she assured me that everything would be okay and that the police were on their way.
I hoped that "everything would be okay" line would actually work this time. Still keeping a type grip on the phone, I could hear my mom pound on the door. I leaped into my closet and shut it.
"Taylor!" she slurred from outside my tiny bedroom. "I told you to get your ass out here!" The door swung open; I could imagine her drunken eyes scanning the room for me. Suddenly, sirens approached the house, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Taking my chances, I opened my door and ran out, barely avoiding getting grabbed. My only thought was that I was home free as I reached for the front door and ran towards the red and blue lights.
"Thank god you're here," I smiled at the chief officer. He looked down at me with an emotionless face.
"We got a call about child abuse at this address?" I nodded happily.
"I called," I explained. "My mom's inside. She gave me this." Rolling up my sleeve, I showed the officer the newly formed bruise on my arm. He nodded his head once before giving the others the signal to go in.
"Taylor, what are you doing out here in the cold?" My mother approached me cautiously, wary of the police officers around her. I couldn't believe how easily she could go from a drunken rage to a lying, caring bitch. As she reached out her arms, I backed away quickly. She looked at the chief with fake worry in those deceitful eyes.
"Is there a problem, officer?" she asked in an innocent voice. That always pissed me off. He approached her and tipped his hat.
"We got a call a little bit ago about child abuse at this house." My mom used to be a thespian, so I wasn't surprised when she gave him a very shocked expression.
"Child abuse? I've never abused Taylor in any way," she tried to explain. I pointed at her accusingly.
"You might as well tell them the truth!" I shouted angrily. "I already showed him the bruise that you gave me!" She smiled and gently placed her arms on my shoulders, making me flinch.
"Honey, don't you remember? You got that bruise when you accidentally ran into the doorframe." Her face held the look of a kind mother reassuring her child, but I could tell that she was extremely pissed off at me for calling her out on it. She stood up and looked at the chief again. "I'm so sorry to bother you. I can reassure you that there has never been any form of abuse in this house."
They bought her words like they were doughnuts, and before I knew it they were in their cars and driving away. I fell to my knees, staring after them until they were long gone. I felt her cold fingers grip my shoulders tightly, and a chill ran up my spine as she whispered threateningly into my ear.
"If you ever try to call the police on me again, I will kill you. And this time, I won't fail."
The next morning, she woke me up and told me that we were moving. When I asked her why, she only glared at me.
"Just pack up what little shit you have and put it in the truck." I sighed, knowing that I'd have to put up with the who-knows-how-long drive to our new home. The little stuff I had had been bought with my own money, since, luckily, I had been able to get a job in town since my mom didn't supply anything for me.
Grabbing a box, I packed up the few articles of clothing I wore, my skateboard, my old iPod, and anything else I could find. The box in one hand and my electric guitar in the other, I walked out to the pickup truck where our worn-out couch was already placed, along with my mom's boxes. I put my stuff inside, closed the door, and got in the truck.
I was surprised that this truck still worked considering the lack of care it went through. But before I knew it, the long drive from our small, North Dakota home passed in the silent hours. It wasn't until we started driving through the Rocky Mountains that I finally broke the silence.
"Tell me again why we had to move?" She didn't look at me, instead taking another breath of her cigarette before responding.
"It's none of your damn business." I straightened up in my seat and glared at her.
"Mom, I'm not stupid," I told her. "I know that it was because I called the cops on you last night. You just didn't want to get called out again at the same house!" That got her attention this time, but she only responded by holding up the cigarette in front of me. My eyes widened before I decided to just shut up and accept that I can't win fights with her. Anytime she held up one of those stupid sticks, I always knew that she was giving two choices: put it out with something solid like a normal person, or put it out on my back and add to the collection of burns that had grown throughout the years. I was lucky if I even got the choice.
Just when I thought that she would keep driving forever, we pulled into a small driveway. When I got out and stared at our new house, I almost couldn't believe what I was staring at. The crap shack was even smaller than my old house, and, like all the other houses around us, looked poorly managed. I glanced up the street and noticed that on the other side of the railroad tracks were the bigger houses and stores. So we'd be living on the poor, rundown, nobody-lives-here part of the town.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard my mom calling my name, but I wasn't paying attention. While I had been staring half-heartedly ahead, I ended up catching the eye of a nearby kid. He stared back at me through his window, but thanks to his orange parka I could only see his eyes. My only thought was that I wasn't going to be the only kid back here.
"Taylor!" A sharp pain erupted from the back of my head as my mom smacked me back to reality. "Weren't you listening to me? Get the couch inside." Rubbing the back of my head, I quickly cast another glance at the house up ahead, but the kid had left. I sighed and prepared myself for the new hellish night in my new hellish town.
It was eight-thirty as the school bus pulled up to South Park Elementary to drop off its students. A majority of them got off the large yellow vehicle with half-closed eyes; Monday morning was the worst time of the week. Slowly following their classmates, Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, and Kenny McCormick stood side-by-side and stared at the building that loomed in front of them.
"I fucking hate Mondays," Kenny muttered to himself. Stan sighed and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
"What makes it even worse is that Mr. Garrison is going to give us a test today." Cartman's eyes immediately widened.
"Shit, that was today?" he exclaimed. Too tired to respond, Stan just nodded his head.
"So, on top of taking a hard ass test," Kyle said grumpily, "it's going to be another boring day at school." As the boys started making their way toward the front doors, Butters suddenly intercepted them.
"Hey, fellas," he said in an unbearably perky tone. "You wouldn't believe what I saw this morning on my way to school."
"Butters, we don't care," Cartman exclaimed rudely, pushing the boy to the side to pass him. Butters looked down at the ground and started twiddling his fingers.
"I was just going to tell you that I saw a new kid skateboarding, and that they were really good." No sooner did Butters mention this than did the boys turn around, along with everyone else, to stare at the figure coming towards them. The kid truly was a professional for their age, kick flipping and grinding across the benches they passed. The wheels of their skateboard clicked between the sidewalk spaces before skidding to a stop in front of the staring group. Judging from the clothes, everyone could tell that this new student was a boy: black converse shoes, dark blue jeans that were ripped at the knees, a teal v-neck shirt with a light blue jacket, and a matching light blue hat that completely covered up his hair. He ignored the stares, picked up his skateboard, and walked inside.
For the next half hour, the boys and their classmates sat in Mr. Garrison's classroom, looking through their history books for last minute studying. Everyone was nervous; this would be one of their hardest tests of the year. They all sighed in frustration as the nine o' clock bell rang, and their teacher walked in.
"Okay, class," he began. "As you're all well aware of, today is your history test on World War I. I know the test looks long, but it's multiple choice, and if you studied you should have no problems." A chorus of exasperated sighs filled the classroom as Mr. Garrison held up the two-page, front and back test. As he was about to pass out the papers, a knock on the door interrupted him. The students stared in his direction as he opened the door, only to be met by Principal Victoria.
"I wish I knew what they were saying," Stan whispered to Kyle as the principal quietly discussed something with Mr. Garrison. He looked back at the kids before turning to Victoria again.
"Yes, we have an extra seat," he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, making the students extremely curious as to what the two adults were talking about. After some more whispered discussion, Mr. Garrison finally turned around as the principal walked away.
"Class, I'm happy to say that we have a new student joining us today." Kyle's eyes widened slightly as a boy followed Mr. Garrison into the classroom, recognizing him as the kid who had shown off his skateboarding skills earlier. Cartman scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Great, we get the kid who thinks he's so cool," he muttered sourly. Kenny glared at him with annoyance.
"Really, Cartman? I thought we already had one," he said sarcastically. Cartman glared back as Stan and Kyle stifled a laugh.
"His name is Taylor Adams," Mr. Garrison introduced before being interrupted by Cartman's obnoxious laughing.
"Taylor?" he burst out. "That's such a pansy girl name! How embarrassing!" The new kid took a step forward.
"Taylor can be a boy's name too, you know," he practically growled at Cartman, but he only smirked.
"Really? Name one guy who's name is Taylor." His face dropped as Taylor put on a smirk of his own.
"Taylor Lautner, smartass." Unable to respond, Cartman only sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, refusing to look at Taylor. Mr. Garrison sighed, knowing that there would be future rivalries between the two boys, but continued to speak.
"Anyway, Taylor, the only available seat is between Kenny and Eric. Try not to let him get the best of you." Taylor nodded his head and sat in the empty desk. As Mr. Garrison started passing out the tests again, Stan and Kyle turned around.
"Hey, dude," Kyle said with a smile. "I'm Kyle. This is Stan, that's Kenny, and you've already met the fatass."
"Shut up, Jew-boy," he countered weakly. Taylor smiled meekly before looking up at his new teacher, who had handed Stan and Kyle their tests.
"Taylor, I hope you don't mind," he apologized. "We're having a test today, so you'll have to keep yourself entertained while everyone else takes it."
"What?! That's not fair!" Cartman burst out angrily. "Why should we have to take the test while he just sits there and does nothing?" Taylor glared at him and balled his hands into fists, a warning that Cartman should just shut up and leave him alone. Mr. Garrison let out an exasperated sigh, and was about to yell at the boy before Taylor spoke up.
"I don't mind taking it," he said, hoping that it would be on something he had learned recently. "What's it on?"
"World War I," Mr. Garrison clarified. A large smile spread across the new kid's face.
"Give me the test, Garrison." Mr. Garrison's eyes widened slightly, but he handed him the papers nonetheless. Kyle, Stan, and Kenny gave him a questioning look, silently asking if he really knew what he was doing or if he just wanted to prove a point to Cartman. Taylor only responded with a thumbs up before picking up his pencil to start his test.
