Chapter 1

Woo! New story!

If anyone found out she came here, she would kill him. After all, what would Patricia be doing at an open mic café? Singing? With a guitar? With musical notes and lyrics and just a bit of… passion?

Despite what everyone would guess, the bottle-dyed redhead walking through the door was indeed Patricia Williamson: tough cookie, aggressive, and rude. If someone really got to know her well, he would know that Patricia is really just strong, willing to protect her friends, angry, and just a bit insecure. Well, more than just a bit insecure. But no one knows her that well enough, maybe not even her best friend, Joy.

Technically, Patricia is supposed to be at therapy, but that just ended. Officially, she works at a restaurant for extra money. No one really knows how desperate the Williamson family is for money; after scrapping the last pound together to send Piper to music school, they need all the help they can get. On top of Patricia's needs, they are down to last bits of their savings, especially after her father left the family to fend for itself. Patricia should actually be a Roberts, for her mother's maiden name, but she did not change her last name because she did not want to be conspicuous, raise questions, or have to explain herself (and she kind of missed him). Piper kept her name because it was the name she grew up with, her identity, no matter who raised or would be raising her. Their mother seems to believe that her husband would come back.

Everyone assumes "working at a restaurant" means being a server, but who can honestly imagine Patricia being polite? No one questions it, which is all the better for her. She would never hear the end of it if the school found out she sang for a living.

Cold air rushes into her face as she opens the door to the café. As part of her scholarship, the school lets her move in early, so she doesn't have to worry about bumping into anyone she knows. Besides, they only really come on Fridays, open mic night. On Tuesdays, the stage is hers and hers alone. She makes minimum wage and gets to keep the tips. It isn't much, but it isn't nothing.

It's the middle of August and he's stuck in… England. With nobody. He's new and has no friends. Apparently, after nine years, his dad wants to meet him, so of course his mother begged him to go. "England will be good for you," she said. "Your father is dying to meet you. Who wouldn't be?"

Eddie Miller knew all of this was code for I miss him and I'm dying to see him again. Eddie didn't care about Eric Sweet, but his mother still did. Even after she remarried. He hated to leave her- he knew how angry her new husband could get when he was in a mood or a little tipsy- but he could see the way she begged him to take this escape. To find help. To bring Eric back.

So he ran.

And now he's stuck in England a month before school starts. He wonders where his friends think he has gone, how his step-father reacted to his leaving, and how he could start over at this new school. He no longer had to be cool or a bad boy or try to get girls or whatever. He only did that so he could cruise through school without gaining any extra attention, but now he didn't have to try to fulfill a stereotype to slip under the radar. He could remake his image. That sounds nice.

At least there is a cool café near the school he could walk to. It probably gets really crowded during the school year, but for now it's not too bad. They hire a girl to sing and play guitar. The atmosphere is cozy. The girl is pretty.

She's in the middle of a song when he walks in, and at the end, he finally shakes up the nerve to walk up to her.

"Do you take song requests?"

She cocks her head. "Sure, okay. As long as I know the song." He handed her a folded up piece of paper.

"You might not know it," he said. Patricia's heart skipped a beat when she deciphered the scrawl. Odd One by Sick Puppies. It's a song that she had completely memorized. It was a song about her, the only one she could completely relate to. Taking this mystery boy completely by surprise, she simply smiled and started singing.

It took Eddie a week to muster up the courage to give Patricia his phone number. He couldn't figure out what it was about her that made him so shaky- maybe it was the big green eyes, the way she looks so desperate about something, that little spark of understanding when they lock gazes. He remembered the way she jumped at his first song request- she was an odd one, just like him. In the end, he had written his phone number on a scrap of paper and slipped it in her tip jar.

With about a week before school started, Eddie started moving into his house after living with his dad.

"You must be Eddie Miller! I'm Trudy, your house mother. Come in, come in!" A kind lady ushered him through the door cheerfully. "The other house members went out for a swim, but they should be back soon. Why don't you get settled in? You'll be rooming with Fabian."

He shoved his stuff in the dresser and flopped on his bed. His phone buzzed with a text message: My friends made me go out with them and now I'm bored. Eddie smiled. He and Patricia have been talking for a little while now, and he realized that she was snarkier- borderline grumpy, even- than she appeared on stage. Patricia was a practical, no-nonsense, intimidating girl, and he loved her sparkling personality.

At least you have friends, he replied. No one is in the house and I'm lonely. ;)

My friends are stupid. They don't get me. Eddie frowned at her response.

I get you :P

Shut up. Eddie grinned again. Patricia also didn't do mushy-gushy stuff. She was mean and sassy and rude, but he liked her anyway (plus she was his only friend in the entire country…). She was tough but not cold. She had secrets, just like him.

There was a commotion at the front door. "Eddie! Come, dear," Trudy called. "Your housemates have arrived!"

"Who have you been texting all day?" a blonde giggled as she walked through the door. She was facing away from him, talking to someone behind her, but he could already tell that America wasn't the only country with its share of ditzy blondes.

"Leave her alone, Amber," someone else said. Average height, brown hair, and very shy, judging from the way his eyes were glued on a girl with long, messy hair.

"Looks like Trixie's got a new friend," Jerome snickered. The only reason Eddie knew of Jerome was because of all the times his dad had talked about him. He practically had a dartboard with his face on it.

"And who are you?" the girl with the long, messy hair asked. Eddie almost laughed out loud at how that guy with the brown hair glowered… until he realized that everyone was looking at him.

"Um, hi… I'm Eddie." Suddenly everyone stared at him, eyes wide.

"Wait, say that again," Amber said.

"I'm Eddie?" he was completely confused. Here was the entire house, clad in colorful beach clothes, hair dripping, some towels dropped on the floor in… shock?

"Say something else!" she demanded impatiently.

"Another American?" a voice grumbled from the back of the crowd.

"Ignore them; they're always shocked around foreigners. I'm Nina," Nina said kindly. "The ditzy blonde is Amber," she joked.

"That's Alfie," Amber added, pointing to a guy with… aliens? On his bathing suit. "Stay away from him; he's odd."

"And your boyfriend," Alfie interjected cheerfully. "That strapping young gentleman staring at Nina is Fabian, and he would be Nina's boyfriend if he would suck up the courage to ask her to step out with him." What does "stepping out" mean?

"W- y- I- Alfie! T-"

"Fabina!" Amber squealed. It seemed as though introductions were going to be in this sort of backwards, slightly amusing fashion until the grumpy voice from the back of the crowd came back.

"Okay, enough of this! I'm wet and need a shower. Hi, don't talk to me or call me Trixie. Have a good day." Was it a coincidence that her voice sounded so familiar? If only he could see her face… She shoved her way through the crowd to climb the stairs.

"Sorry about… her," Nina said to him. "She's kind of…" She reached the middle of the stairs and Eddie gasped.

"Patricia?"

"What do you wan-" she broke off her sentence when she finally looked at him, dropping everything she had in her arms, her stuff bouncing down the stairs. The ridiculous crowd of people clustered in the foyer started whispering. She composed herself in the blink of an eye. "How do you know my name? Creep."

Patricia was finding breathing difficult.

No one in the entire school knew about her job as a singer. No one could find out. She would be done for. All she wanted was to live her life without attention thrust upon her- no expectations, no pressures, no comparisons. She got enough of that at home with Piper and her parents. There was a reason she kept to herself: she didn't want anyone to find out about all of the problems she had. But suddenly, this one person showed up at her school- in her house!- and threatened to unravel all of the secrets she tediously kept to herself. It would have been fine if she could have known him as a friend outside of school; she rather liked him, but he was too close now.

She dug through her toiletries bag and popped a pill- if the school went into an excited frenzy about Patricia making a friend, then the entire planet would implode if anyone found out she took this. But she needed it. Life was too difficult without it. She had just two more years in this blasted school until she would be off the university and away from the nonsense of her family. Then this daft boy had to show up. Wonderful.

Patricia climbed out of the awful one-piece bathing suit she had forced her body into this morning. She hated the way it highlighted her imperfections more than it covered them up, but she had to hide the ridges across her lower back. There was no way she would ever tell anyone- not her parents, not her sister, not her doctor, not her therapist, not even Joy- about them. They were her greatest shame. She swore to herself that she would never damage herself ever again.

It's a promise she can't keep.

Eddie woke up the next day feeling feverish and groggy. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, sighing as the cool water hit his skin. He finished washing himself, leaning back to turn off the water but slipping and knocking his arm against the knob. He pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants and went down for breakfast.

As he reached for the orange juice, Mara suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my god, Eddie! What happened?"

After a moment of panic- did they see the scars his stepfather left across his body?- he realized she was looking at the dark bruise that covered his arm. Frowning, he said, "I actually have no idea how that got there."

"It looks like you hit it against something really hard," Fabian offered. Eddie had plenty of bruises that he could never explain to his friends, but they were never inexplicable; he just didn't want anyone to know about them. This, however, was truly baffling.

"I think I knocked it against the shower knob this morning," he said, remembering. "But it couldn't have been that hard. Whatever, guys, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

Just then, Trudy walked in carrying a jug of yellow liquid. "I made you sweeties some lemon juice!" she sang.

"Lemon juice?" Eddie wrinkled his nose. "Who drinks lemon juice?"

"Everyone, you doofus," Jerome says. It's something Patricia would say, but for some reason she has stopped talking to him. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he could see her laughing at him.

"But why?" Eddie questioned. "It's all sour and gross!"

"Not when you put sugar and water in it…?" Alfie looked at him confusedly. In fact, everyone was looking at him confusedly until Nina came to the rescue.

"They mean lemonade," she stage whispered dramatically.

"Finally! Someone who speaks my language!" Eddie caught Patricia rolling her eyes.

"Americans," she muttered. Picking up her plate, "I'm going up," she announced.

"You barely ate!" Eddie protested.

"Don't question me."

"Yeah dude," Alfie said. "Just… don't ever question Patricia." Eddie rolled his eyes. He quickly put his plate in the sink and hurried after her.

Eddie pounded at the door. "Come on, Patricia, open the door!" Hearing no response, he barged right in and saw her sprawled across her bed, staring at the ceiling, and listening to music through headphones very loudly. It was a wonder that she didn't go deaf already. He took the time now to finally get a closer look at her. He had a suspicion that she dyes her hair red every so often and straightens it as well, and every time he saw her she wore dark jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing difficult, nothing fancy, nothing high-maintenance. If she noticed him moving over to sit on her bed, she did nothing to indicate it. He pulled out a headphone and asked, "Would you tell me why you are ignoring me?"

She glanced at the door before replying, "None of them know that I work as a singer. They think I'm some kind of waitress or something."

"Okay," Eddie blinked. "So?"

"No one can know that I do something as soft and gushy as singing to earn money," she scoffed. "If you haven't been paying attention, I'm Patricia, I'm tough, and if you bother me I will punch you in the face."

"Pretending to be someone you're not is exhausting."

"And you would know?" she leered.

"I would know," Eddie nodded. Did he like the girlfriends and the hook ups and the drugs and the parties and the pretending? No. He was done with succumbing to peer pressure.

"I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not," Patricia said defensively. "I've got problems and secrets I don't want anyone to know about- not that anyone would want to be bothered with them anyway." She stood up to leave. This conversation was getting too personal too quickly.

"Don't you think your friends want to help you?" he demanded. "Isn't that the point of a friend, anyway?"

Her body facing the door, she turned her head just to say, "The people who were supposed to help me either didn't understand or let me down. I've learned that I can only depend on myself. I'm alone and I like it this way." She stomped out the door.

"You'll never be alone, not when I'm with you," Eddie promised.

Patricia didn't hear him.

Okay, this story will be much more organized than Scar(red). Promise.
I already know how I want it to end, but if you want to see something in particular happen, let me know!
This story will focus on Patricia and Eddie, without all of the wacky Egyptian stuff.
Please review if you think I should continue!

xoxo