Page 2 of Saving Tracey (Finding Hope #1)

Just come off cold and uncaring and no one will try to talk to you , I reminded myself.

I didn't get up like everyone else did. I just clenched my hands into fists under my desk and looked at a blank spot on the wall instead of looking at the rest of my classmates.

I had to be cold and indifferent.

"My name is Tracey Olive,” I began. "I live with both of my parents. I don't have any pets, and I'm an only child,” I stated in a deadpan tone of voice, desperately trying to be as evasive and as boring as possible about who I was.

Before anyone could ask me any questions, Kaleb spoke up beside me. I breathed a slight sigh of relief, silently thanking him in my mind for speaking up. "I'm Kaleb Brinson. I live with my mom. I have a twin sister and a younger little sister. I play football, basketball, and I run track."

No sooner than he sat back down in his seat did someone speak up to ask him a question. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Everyone here knew him. What the fuck could someone really need to ask him?

"Dude, how did you end up in here with the rest of us losers?" one of his friends that I recognized from the football team asked him.

Kaleb shrugged and sighed in agitation. "There wasn't any room to put me in AP History,” he told him. "So, I got put in here."

The teacher clapped her hands together to bring the class back to attention. I winced at the loud noise, my heart thumping erratically in my chest again. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm back down, clenching my fists as I imagined my fear and panic contained in them once again.

"Okay, everyone!" she said enthusiastically. "We're going to begin this semester by working on a project in partners." I opened my eyes to look at her, blowing out a harsh breath in annoyance.

A project with a partner was the last fucking thing I needed.

"Based on what I just found out about you, I'm going to pair you up with the person who is the least compatible with you.

You're going to hang out for two weeks, get to know each other, and learn how to get along with your partner.

After the two weeks are over, you'll have another week to do a two-page paper on your partner–what you learned from them, maybe some things your partner inspired you to do, and how your partner helped you to become a better person. "

Fuck. Me.

I was beginning to hate this class more and more with each passing second.

"How does this contribute to history?" one girl asked.

My question exactly.

"Beginning way back–even before America was colonized–people didn't get along all because they weren't willing to learn about other people, their cultures, and their civilizations. This exercise is about that,” she explained.

For fuck's sake, lady. This isn’t the fucking 1600s anymore.

When no one else asked any more questions, she began speaking again. "Kaleb, I'm going to pair you with the pretty girl sitting next to you,” she stated, struggling to remember my name, but eventually giving up.

It did make me feel slightly better knowing people couldn't remember my name, even the teacher. However, I still had to do this blasted project! Well, I didn't have to, really, but knowing Kaleb, he was going to hound me about doing it until I caved and participated.

Fucking golden boy.

"I'm going to allow you all the next hour and a half to get to know your partner better!" the teacher exclaimed, clapping her hands together loudly with way too much enthusiasm. I jumped in my seat, clenching my fists under my desk.

She really needed to stop doing that.

The teacher turned her back to us and sat at her desk, leaving us to begin our projects. I could feel Kaleb's gaze on me, but I didn't turn to look at him. I didn't want to work on this project, and I certainly didn't want to allow him to get to know me better.

"Hey, Tracey, you can't just leave me hanging,” Kaleb spoke up after a moment of us just sitting in silence. I clenched my jaw in agitation, still not looking at him. "My grades are important to me." As if I actually gave a fuck.

"Then ask for a different partner that'll actually do the work with you,” I snapped at him, turning my harsh glare on him.

He slightly recoiled back from the hatred gleaming in my eyes. "A little angry there, aren't you?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at me once he recovered from his shock.

I turned away from him. He was smart; I could give him that. He now knew my name, three things about me, and he knew that I was an angry person.

Just that little bit was far more than I was comfortable with him knowing. If my father got the slightest feeling that someone knew the tiniest bit about me, it would all be fucking over.

Kaleb sighed tiredly. "Come on, Tracey. I'm not going to ask for a different partner just because you don't want to do the work.

" I clenched my jaw angrily. "You should be concerned about your grades, too.

Aren't you going to college after you graduate?

" he asked as if everyone he knew would want to go to college.

I mean, everyone he hung out with probably would, but I wasn’t one of his friends, and I certainly wasn’t like everyone else.

Nope. Instead, I hoped to be in a coffin by the time graduation rolled around.

"No," I said harshly, turning my glare on him again. "Now stop fucking talking to me,” I snarled.

Damn it; I had just answered another one of his stupid fucking questions.

"Is there a problem here?" I heard that nasally voice ask from above us.

I tensed up and flinched away as the teacher put her hands on our desks. She was way too close for comfort, and I could feel sweat beginning to build up on my back.

Back up. Back up. Please back the fuck up.

"She won't cooperate," Kaleb told the teacher. Fucking tattle-tale. "Could you get her to cooperate with me, please? I really need this grade,” he begged her.

"Give him another partner,” I retorted before she could say anything to me, just wanting her to move back from my desk and give me some space.

She sighed and leaned in a bit closer. I scooted back in my seat a little. I didn't like people being close to me. It put me on edge.

And this teacher was way too close for comfort.

I felt like being sick. My heart was beating so fast that I thought it might just beat right out of my chest and fall into my lap. My palms and back began sweating even more.

Please, just back the fuck up , I begged silently.

"Tracey, I'm not re-assigning partners. Work through your differences. That's the whole point of this assignment,” she told me in exasperation.

She walked away, and I blew out a breath of relief that she was finally gone and that I had my personal space back. I put my head on my desk tiredly.

I couldn't do this project. I couldn't hang out with him. I couldn't tell him anything about me.

If my dad found out that I was interacting with him, even for a stupid project, I would be beaten to within an inch of my life, if I even managed to fucking survive it.

"Have you ever played any sports?" Kaleb asked me a moment later, refusing to give up.

I sighed.

He really was a persistent mother fucker, wasn’t he?

I figured the best way to get rid of him would be to just answer his stupid questions. It wasn't as if he could ask anything harmful, right? I always covered my bruises and scars, and so long as he didn't notice those, then there shouldn't be any reason for him to ask any dangerous questions.

I pushed past the aggravation that I was feeling and shook my head at him. "No. I've never played sports," I told him honestly.

"Have you ever wanted to?" he asked me as he studied me, which was extremely unnerving.

I looked over at him for a split second, noting that he was writing things down about me as I spoke to him.

Fucking lovely.

In answer to his question though, I had wanted to play sports when I was a kid.

I had wanted to play tennis, and I had wanted to learn to dance.

I remember when my dad would work late when I was little, I would use one of my books and hit a tennis ball I had found at school back and forth at my wall.

However, as I got older, I realized I couldn't ever play a sport. My lifestyle didn't allow for anything, really.

And definitely not for tennis , I thought grimly, my mind flitting to the tennis skirts and the bruises covering my legs.

"Yeah. I wanted to play tennis,” I admitted softly.

Kaleb watched me carefully, his eyes running over my face. I quickly turned my head away from him and made sure my hair hid my face from him. I hated feeling like he might look right through me and see what I so desperately tried to hide from the world.

"Why didn't you ever play? You look like you have the physique for it."

Physique.

Now that's a word that would probably never be used in my vocabulary.

"I had other things to tend to," I told him evasively.

He changed the subject after that, realizing pretty quickly he wasn't getting much more from me on that subject. "How come I've never noticed you before?" he asked me bluntly, making me freeze up as he asked one of the questions that I had been dreading him asking me.

Panic gripped my chest. I couldn't tell him the real reason for that. I couldn't tell him I wasn't allowed to speak to anyone, to make friends. I couldn’t tell him that I lived in constant fear every day of my father finding out I even had someone look in my direction. I couldn’t let him know that I wanted to do nothing more than kill myself, and I didn’t want friends because I didn’t want anyone to miss me.

I could never tell him the truth, and yet, I was so terrified that he would look right through me and see everything that I was trying so desperately to hide.

My name was called over the intercom to come up to the front office to leave before I could give him some sarcastic, half-assed answer. My heart stuttered in my chest. Goosebumps crawled over my skin, and chills shot down my spine. I felt myself break out in a slight sweat again.

This wasn't good. This meant he'd had a bad day. A bad day meant that there was a very high possibility that I wouldn't be able to make it to school tomorrow.

I'd much rather stay behind and play twenty questions with Kaleb , I thought grimly.

I slowly got out of my seat, desperately trying to hide the panic clawing up my throat, making it hard to breathe.

"Because I never wanted to be noticed," I told Kaleb in answer to his question before I hurried out of the classroom.

I blinked awake in the darkness, instantly grimacing at the pain and discomfort radiating throughout my entire body, specifically in my lower regions.

Gathering my senses, I realized that I was in my bedroom, and my clothes were lying on the floor beside me.

A sheet was covering my body, and I was in a terrible amount of pain.

Every single part of my body hurt.

I forced myself off the dirty carpet and wrapped the sheet tight around my frame. There was blood on the carpet where I had been laying. I forced myself to look away from it when I felt the nausea roll through my stomach, remembering what I had just endured a couple of hours ago.

I was always his first option for a release.

Walking into my bathroom, I stood in front of my mirror, letting my eyes trail over my body. Whereas my body was bruised and blemished, some parts even swollen from the blows I had received, my face was clear of any marks.

My face was always perfect. It was the only thing he could tolerate about me—that, and he knew bruises on my face would be hard to hide.

Someone banged on the front door, and I cringed at the loud sound. After tugging on some sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, and a scarf, I jogged down the hall to the door. It hadn't seemed like my parents were home, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I'd much rather they be gone.

I opened the door a tiny bit and peeked out to see who was standing on my front porch. Kaleb stood on the cement blocks that made makeshift steps to the front door. My eyes widened in alarm, and I internally panicked.

He couldn't fucking be here!

"Can I help you?" I asked him, my tone coming off cold and void of any emotion as I kept the door open only a crack.

"Yeah. We're supposed to hang out,” he reminded me. I swallowed hard. "I asked around to see if anyone knew you, but they didn't, so I asked my mom to get me your address." He looked around him, looking a little uneasy.

I couldn't really blame him for his uneasiness.

I didn't live in the best neighborhood. It would take a blind man to miss the graffiti covering the sides of buildings and houses and the smashed beer bottles on the side of the street, by the curb, and on the sidewalk.

This wasn't Kaleb's kind of scene, and I knew it raised questions in his mind as to why I lived here.

But it wasn’t any of his fucking business, and I needed him to leave.

"I'm not hanging out with you,” I sneered, bringing his attention back to me. "You should go home, and don't fucking return," I added on at the end.

"Tracey, who's at the door?!" I heard my dad shout from within the house.

I squeezed my eyes shut as nausea swirled in my belly and fear crept up my spine. Why couldn't he just have been gone like I'd thought he was?

"Go. Home,” I snarled at Kaleb.

I slammed the door closed in his face and turned to face my dad as he came down the hallway. He was still naked from his time spent with me, and I forced myself not to cringe or cry as I quickly remembered what he had done to me only a little while ago.

"It was no one," I told him, keeping my eyes fixed on his hairy chest. "Someone was asking me if I had seen their cat,” I lied.

He nodded, buying it easily enough. I breathed a slight silent sigh of relief. "Your mother should be home in a little while. Clean yourself up,” he commanded.

I nodded and rushed down the hall to my room, desperate to get out of his presence. Besides, if my mom wasn't home yet, maybe I could actually accomplish what I had been trying to do for three years now.

I forced the pills down my throat.