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Prologue
SCAR
Fourteen YearsOld
Have you ever looked up at the moon and thought about how the entire world, every single person, shares the same one? In this expansive world, we only have one moon and somewhere out there, other people are looking at it at this exact moment.
I look at it, talking to a nonexistent person in my head. Are you lonely, too? Are you hiding away from the world, while knowing you can’t go far because we’re all together under this one sky?
I overthink too much. It’s just not fair that something so beautiful has to be shared with some who don’t deserve it.
Damn those boys for existing in my world.
I stop walking on the trail on the backside of our property, the flashlight of my phone pointed at the old treehouse my dad had built for me when I was eight years old. I told him I needed a place to escape, because we all do at some point. Three days later, he brought me back here and surprised me with the most amazing treehouse. Okay, it’s not that great, but it is to me, then and now. That small space positioned between two large oak trees was my sanctuary when I needed to get away from the noise of the world. And right now, I need it more than ever.
Moving my feet again, I head for the ladder. Since the full moon is offering enough light, I shut the flashlight off on my phone and stuff it in the back pocket of my jeans.
The wood is weathered, so I take care as I climb up, trying to avoid splinters in my hands. Mom’s already spent too many nights pulling those pesky things out of my fingers. I smile at the thought. So much time spent on such a mundane task. It’s those small acts that prove how much someone loves you. Even if right now I’m feeling all alone, deep down, I know I never am because I’ll always have my parents.
When I reach the top, I press my palms to the hard surface and crawl over to the battery-operated lantern, hoping the batteries still work. When I flip the switch and nothing happens, I breathe out a sigh of frustration.
I stand up to pull my phone out of my pocket, but the base of my skull meets a two-by-four.“Ouch,” I bellow, rubbing the sore spot on my head. It seems I’ve grown a few inches since the last time I was up here. Once I’ve got the flashlight on, I shine it around the small space. My eyes land on the ‘no boys allowed’ graffiti and I chuckle, even though someone did trespass and put anXthrough it with black spray paint. It’s comical that the words even existed because there were never any boys who tried to invite themselves up. Not even Crew, Jagger, or Neo.Nope. They don’t give a damn about me or this place. No matter how hard I try, I’m always on the outside looking in—except when I’m in this treehouse. Here, I’m on the inside looking out. I’m safe here. My thoughts are safe here.
Which is exactly why I let it all come out. Every tear, every sniffle, and every whimper as I cry into the palms of my hands. I cry until my throat burns and my chest collapses.
I’m running the back of my hand over my nose when I hear the crunching of leaves outside. My heart gallops in my chest, body frozen.
I finally call out, “Hello?”
Rubbing the palm of my hand on my jeans, I get onto my knees. Pressing my hands to the sides of the open space, I stick my head out.
Must be a squirrel.
I drop down on my butt and swallow the lump in my throat. More leaves crunch, and I find myself scooting away from the opening, instead of moving forward to look again.
That’s definitely not an animal. At least, not a small one.
Instead of hollering out again, I shut off my phone and I keep quiet. With my knees tucked to my chest, I hug my legs tightly. I’ll just wait it out. Whatever, or whoever, it is will eventually go away.
My breaths are shallow, eyes wide when, suddenly, the sound draws closer, and closer, and even closer.
Every bone in my body rattles when I hear someone coming up the ladder. The creaking of each wooden rung sends my heart into my throat.
Scooting farther away from the opening, my back bonds to the boarded wall.
“Who’s there?” I choke out, licking my dry lips and drawing in a shaky breath.
A head pops up in the opening, and in a knee-jerk reaction, I move forward, stretch my leg out, and push the toe of my tennis shoe into the intruder’s forehead.
“What in the world, Scar?” A guy’s voice rings into the small space.
I gasp. “Jagger?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” He pushes himself up, and I reclaim my spot against the far wall.
“How’d you know I was here? Better yet,whyare you here? Shouldn’t you be at the movies with ‘everyone who’s anyone’?” I quote the words used by Neo earlier, when he was pleading his case to Maddie on why she should go with them instead of roller skating with me.
“Gimme a minute.” He drops down against the opening and rubs his forehead, babying the spot where I kicked him, if you’d even call it that.
