This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, incidents and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
Dedication
Dedicated to my husband, Ed, for his love and sacrifice, and for believing in me enough to let me chase my dreams.
And to our two wonderful sons, Steven and Joshua. I love you both very much.
Chapter One
Kira glanced up at the silver eyehook screwed into the gym ceiling. Threaded through the two-inch hole was the other end of the rope she held in her trembling hands. She gave it a solid yank to test its strength. She could do this. It wasn’t like she was afraid of heights—she’d dance along the edge of a four-story building if it meant not having to climb this stupid rope. It had to be a mental thing, some unreasonable fear of—something—that kept her feet glued to the floor.
Coach Andrews stood a few feet away with her arms folded over her flat chest. “Today, Edwards!” She shifted her weight and tapped the toe of one worn out Sketcher on the wooden floor. “Before I lose my patience.”
“You can totally do this,” Lydia whispered from behind Kira.
Kira glanced over her shoulder to glare at her friend. “Easy for you to say. You can shimmy up this thing like a freakin’ monkey.”
“So can you, if you just try. Now go, before we both have to do laps.” Lydia flipped her long blonde braid behind her back and gave Kira a gentle shove. “Up.”
Kira wiped her sweaty hands on her shorts and gripped the rope with purpose. The entire class watched. Some girls sat on bleachers a few feet away, snickering, while others stood nearby, offering what seemed like genuine support, but was more than likely a morbid desire to see her colossal failure up close. Either way, she didn’t like the attention. She closed her eyes and pulled her body upward before clamping the rope’s slack between her feet, and pushed off with her leg muscles.
“Good job,” Lydia said. “Now reach.”
Kira still had her eyes closed, so felt above her head for her next hold. The rope pressed into her palm as she gripped it in her hand. Maybe she could do this. She pulled herself up and adjusted her feet again.
“You’re gonna fall!” Kira didn’t recognize the voice, but knew it came from one of the girls on the bleachers by the way it echoed off the gym walls.
“Shut up, Carla!” Lydia yelled.
“Girls!” Coach Andrews’s voice bellowed. “One more word and it’ll be laps for the lot of you! Now get up that rope, Edwards. You’ve got three weeks until graduation and I’m not passing you until you do.”
Silence filled the gym as Kira reached again, pulling herself up one more section. This time the rope tangled around her feet causing her hands to take her full weight. Her fingers burned as they slid a few inches and fumbled to find a sturdy grip. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes to see how to fix the problem.
Big mistake.
It wasn’t the distance between her and the floor that sent a bone chilling surge of fear through her, but what she saw after she untangled her clumsy feet and looked up. She was somewhere else—the rope, now tattered and thin, hung over the rotting beam in an old barn. The wood groaned and sagged with her weight, and a trickle of blood seeped from between her bound hands and dripped down the length of her arm.
Kira screamed, yanking her hands free from their restraint—and the rope hanging from the ceiling. Lydia broke her fall and both of them collapsed into a heap on the gym floor.
The bleacher girls erupted in laughter, while the others froze in place, their faces a mixture of shock and humor.
“Pipe down! Everyone to the showers! Now!” Coach Andrews crouched by Kira and Lydia. “What were you thinking? You can’t let go like that. You could have been seriously injured.”
Kira examined her hands for any sign of blood. Nothing. “I . . . um . . .” She glanced at Lydia who was rubbing a spot on the back of her head. “I slipped. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Might have a headache later, but nothing’s broken.”
Coach Andrews stood and motioned toward the door that led to the hall. “Come on. Let’s get you two to the nurse’s office.”
“No!” Lydia said a little too loud. She jumped to her feet, pulling Kira with her. “We’re fine. We don’t need a nurse.”
“Lydia, what about your head?” Kira tried to take her hand back, but Lydia tightened her grip and dragged her to the locker room door.
“Girls, it’s policy. I need to fill out an incident report.”
Lydia stopped and turned back to Coach Andrews. “What incident? We were just messing around. No harm done. Right, Kira?” Lydia jabbed an elbow in Kira’s ribs. “Right, Kira?”
“Um . . . right. Messing around. No incident.” Kira flashed a half-hearted grin before Lydia pulled her the rest of the way through the door and into the locker room—a maze of chattering, half-naked girls waiting to mock and tease. At least that’s what she expected. To her surprise, only one spoke—Carla—wearing nothing but a flimsy white towel.
“Nice fall, Edwards. Maybe next time you can make it more than three feet off the ground.” She laughed, starting a chain reaction through the locker room.
Lydia stepped between them. “You’re one to talk. I seem to remember it took you half the semester to make it up that rope and a whole herd of your friends to coax you down. At least Kira won’t whine for a week about how her sensitive hands were damaged by ‘hanging on for dear life’ as you put it.” A few distant giggles escaped from the other side of the room.
Carla’s sarcastic smirk faded into a scowl. She let out a huff of air and spun on her heels, disappearing into one of the shower stalls.
“You didn’t have to do that, ya know. She’s all talk and she doesn’t bother me.” Kira walked past Lydia, found her locker and dialed the combination.
Lydia let out a deep sigh, so Kira turned back to face her. “What?”
“Why do you let her say things like that to you? She’s such a—”
“Don’t say it.” Kira wasn’t sure how to explain how she felt about Carla. She didn’t hate her and she certainly didn’t want to fight with her. It was something Kira saw in Carla’s eyes. Something vulnerable and broken—despite the attitude. “Maybe she just needs a friend.” She sat with her foot propped up on the bench and untied her shoe.
Lydia joined her, prying her shoes off with her toes. “Are you nuts? Carla has more friends than anyone else in the whole school.”
“She has followers, girls who use her for popularity. Parasites. Leaches. Not friends.” Kira stood and peeled her shirt over her head.
“Maybe. But she still doesn’t need to pick on you so much.”
“Well, I figure if she’s picking on me, she’ll leave everyone else alone. I can take it.”
“Tough chick, eh?” Lydia flicked her on the leg with a twisted gym towel.
Kira jumped out of range. “Got that right. Now stop distracting me. Mr. Hall’s gonna kick my butt if I’m late for English again.”