Deck of Lies: The Full Deck

By Jade Varden

The boxed set of edition of the Deck of Lies takes you even deeper into a life full of deceit, manipulation and money.

It all begins with a single lie that rips Rain Ramey away from her family. If everything about her old life was untrue, who is she going to be now? Rain's journey will take her into a world of madness, adultery, cover-ups...and court.

Get every single book in the Deck (Justice, The Tower, Death and Judgment), plus bonus material not available in the single-book editions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jade Varden
• Release date: Dec 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301024094

Jade Varden

Jade Varden is a teller of tales from Louisville, Kentucky. The Deck of Lies series is the first in several young adult series and stand-alone novels Jade will publish in 2012 and 2013.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Have you got your laptop?

Yes, mom.

Did I remember to give you lunch money?

Yes, mom, I grinned at her. It was a rare thing to see my calm, quiet mother so frazzled. She was more nervous than I was about my first day at Sloane Academy.

It’s okay, mom. She’s not going off to Harvard just yet.

Stanford, I corrected automatically.

My brother Aaron fell heavily onto his usual stool at the wide kitchen island, which was already set for breakfast. He pushed a hank of dark brown hair out of his eyes as he looked me up and down. I was wearing my school uniform for the first time, and feeling too nervous to eat the eggs and toast in front of me. Knowing me, I’d spill something down the front of my crisp white blouse, or slouch over the plate and get wrinkles in the grey vest. Nice outfit, Rain. You already look like a spinster librarian. The colleges will be calling any day now.

You leave her alone, my mother took a mock swipe at him with one of her blue and white checked kitchen towels. If you’d studied harder, maybe you would have a scholarship to one of the best prep schools in the country right now.

I don’t think I’d look very good in the skirt, ma, he answered with a laugh, shoving a huge forkful of eggs into his mouth.

I couldn’t help but envy how comfortable Aaron looked in his gold sweatshirt, hunkered down over his plate, getting crumbs all over his khakis. Students weren’t allowed to wear clothes with logos on them at his high school – my old high school – so he had about a dozen plain sweatshirts in UCLA colors. To this day, I can’t see a gold sweatshirt without thinking of Aaron.

This is just such a good opportunity for you. My mother’s large, brown eyes were wet with tears as she reached across the counter to take my hand. You were meant to go to fancy, expensive schools like this one.

I wish I had her confidence. My hands were shaking as I pulled my backpack onto my left shoulder and scooped my purse under my right arm. I just hate starting in the middle of the year. I should have waited until next year.

They said you could go ahead and begin attending classes, and there was no reason to wait to start getting the best possible education. When that hard expression came into my mother’s golden-brown eyes, I knew to give in – quickly.

Yes, mom, I sighed. It was something I’d heard before.

Besides, if you’d started last week this would all be familiar now.

I sighed again. Mom, I had to say good-bye to my friends and my teachers at my old school.

Well, you’ve had a week of good-bye and now it’s time to say hello to all your new friends and teachers at Sloane Academy. Hello, brand-new life, she sang.

I couldn’t help but smile at her optimistic enthusiasm as I scooped my bowl of yogurt off the place mat. Mom had added banana slices to the mixture today. She made her own plain yogurt by the gallon, a white, gooey mess that tasted terrible until the fruit and granola were added.

Ready for your card? While I was busy spooning the cold breakfast into my mouth, my mom had placed an old, beat-up knit handbag on the counter. Before I could answer, she dipped her fingers inside to pull out an old, worn deck of cards.

Oh, mom, I groaned. When I was little, I used to love watching my mother work with the cards. Her short fingers were never more nimble than when they were stacking, spreading and dealing from that colorful deck. The cards were dark blue, with little stars all over them. I used to believe they were magical. But today… I don’t want a reading.

We’ll just pull one, she smiled brightly, tapping the edges of the deck on the Formica countertop to get them all straight.

I suppressed a sigh. Just one, I mumbled around a mouthful of fruit and yogurt. I heard Aaron snicker, and shot him a glare out of the side of my eye. Aaron didn’t have the patience to watch Mom draw out her cards and read the meaning of each one. He couldn’t sit still and listen long enough to hear her explain what each stark, simple image symbolized. I used to love seeing her do her Tarot, especially when she gave big, full readings with a complete spread of cards – but today my mind was too full to pay attention.

With great fanfare, my mother stepped up to the island. Clear your mind, she instructed, as she always did.

This was the part I knew I would have trouble with. Clear my mind – when I was about to go to a brand-new school, far different from my old one? She might as well have told me to grow a pair of wings. But I did my best to close my eyes and breathe deeply, the way she’d taught me.

Think about your first day at school, my mother’s voice drifted to me from that otherworldly place she connected to so easily. I kept my eyes squeezed tight as she fanned the cards out on the island, but I knew if I looked down I would see dozens of little stars gleaming on top of midnight blue. Pick a card, she whispered.

My fingers inched out, and my eyes opened the moment I felt my hand make contact with the deck. My mother quickly plucked my selection from the counter, sweeping the remaining cards into a loose pile before she flipped mine, face-up, between us. We both leaned forward to look down at it.

The first thing I saw was the two swords, crossed as if in combat. A golden scale, perfectly balanced, dangled between them.

Justice, my mother intoned. I don’t know why, but I felt a little shiver go through me.

Yeah, what’s that one mean? Aaron grunted.

Consequence. Fairness. The righting of a wrong, she recited. For some reason, my mother couldn’t take her eyes off that card. The scales represent balance. The swords represent the blind eye of Justice – cold, impersonal, they strike swiftly and without warning.

"But what’s it mean?" Aaron demanded again.

My mother’s eyes were unfocused when she looked up at Aaron, staring through him more than at him.

But I didn’t have time to listen to one of her long Tarot explanations now. Quickly, I sat my bowl back on the counter. My mother jumped at the noise and seemed to shake herself out of her trance. I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late on my first day.

She was around the island in a flash, pulling me into her arms for a hug. You know how to get there, you’re sure?

I’m sure, mom. I’ll be okay.

If you have any trouble, use the GPS on your Blackberry. My dad advised as he entered the kitchen. He was just pulling his UCLA baseball cap over his dark brown head, hair the same shade as Aaron’s. I always joked that between the two of them, they were funding the entire athletics department because they bought so much stuff with the UCLA logo on it.

I will, Dad. I hugged him, too, before I gathered up my things and moved out the back door, casting a last look of envy at Aaron.

Have a good first day, honey, my mom cried.

Good luck with the rich kids, Aaron teased.

I’m sure you’ll do just fine, princess. My dad got in the last word, as usual.

The brave smile I gave them faded as soon as I stepped out of the back door. My stomach felt like it had turned inside-out, and my knees were watery as I walked down the driveway to my car. It was a 1964 red Corvair, one of my father’s many weekend projects. With a perfect interior, classic paint job and souped-up engine, the Corvair is the envy of car collectors around the world – so he says. Of course, mine didn’t have any of that. Instead, it had lots of character – in the form of ripped leather seats, a beat-up dashboard and multiple rust spots.

But the engine, while not souped-up, purred like a kitten. Substance over style is my mother’s all-time favorite saying. For the first time, I was hoping the engine wouldn’t start when I turned the key.

No such luck. The Corvair roared to life as usual, and my belly did a sickening flip-flop. I took a deep breath before pushing the gear shift into the Reverse position. It was time to face my first day as a student at the ultra-fancy, ultra-conservative Sloane Academy.

I’ll be okay, I repeated to myself as I backed down the driveway. I’ll be okay.

Forty minutes later, I was staring at the most unlikely-looking school building I’d ever seen. Once a private mansion, the Edgar P. Sloane Academy was a weathered grey stone structure surrounded by sycamore trees on all sides. The campus, fan like, sprouted around the central building in a maze of brick walkways, gardens and smaller buildings that were once houses for storage and servants. Sloane even had its own private stables and its own private lake, or so I’d been told during the brief campus tour I’d taken three weeks before.

It was one of the premier schools in the country, and until recently students had to be well-connected and wealthy enough to pay the hefty tuition (twenty-five thousand per year) just to get in the door. But this year, the school was opening up classes to five students who received academic scholarships by virtue of some new endowment from some wealthy alum.

I was one of them. The school alumnus I met with told me that more than thirty thousand applicants had been considered; more than ten thousand essays had been read. I was in a very small percentage of students who had been accepted from a very wide pool, and to hear my parents talk I was already on my way to becoming the next President of the United States – or at least a Senator.

But as I stood in the shadow of the main building of Sloane Academy, I just wanted to be nobody special again. I wanted to go to the high school I’d attended the week before – riding along in my brother’s pickup truck, dressed in a sweatshirt with my hair in a ponytail. I pressed forward instead, moving straight toward the front doors from the tiny student parking lot, shuffling my purse and backpack into position as I moved.

Sloane was even different from a normal school on the inside. The corridors were wide and wood-paneled, the floors carpeted. It was more like walking into a museum than a school building.

Rain Ramey?

Yes? I whirled to face a girl dressed the exact same way I was, only she was at least four inches taller than my 5’3". And thin. She had the build of a model, but the stiff way she held herself made her look awkward as she stood clutching a stack of books to her chest. She had big, hazel eyes, magnified by the most stylish eyeglasses I’d ever seen. How’d you know?

Laurel Riordan, she introduced herself. You have sort of a lost and confused look on your face. Come on. I’m your big sister for the day, and the lockers are down the stairs. She immediately started down the hall at a fast clip. I had to jog to keep up with her long stride. Other students were milling around the further we went down the hall, but Laurel’s brown head was easy to follow because she was so tall. She wore her hair in a straight, neat bob that fell perfectly to her chin. I’d taken thirty minutes to tame my wild blonde curls into something that looked like order, and following Laurel I felt hopelessly sloppy and out-of-place. Even her knee-high, grey socks looked like they’d been ironed. Mine were sliding down my calves as I struggled to match her pace.

She took me down a mahogany staircase to the basement. Here, the floors were tiled. Laurel led me past row upon row of wood-paneled cabinets before stopping at one with a small brass plaque that read 389.

This is you.

I just stared at her for a minute until I realized that these were the lockers. The revelation came when Laurel opened the cabinet next to mine (388) and started changing out books. There’s no lock.

Everyone at Sloane uses the honor system. But don’t keep anything in it except for books. The janitor ruined my friend’s Prada backpack last year with wood polish.

Um, okay. I opened up the locker to peer inside at a wide, empty space separated by a single shelf, watching Laurel out of the side of my eye as she jostled items around in her arms.

Ready? Good. Your homeroom is down this way.

Okay. I repeated, preparing myself to sprint madly down the hall after her.

My first day at Sloane, and I was off and running.

I’d never really been the new girl before that day. I’d followed Aaron from school to school, and practically everyone knew Aaron’s name. He played basketball and baseball, ran track and worked summers as a lifeguard at the public beach. I just had to introduce myself to make friends at our old high school.

Not at Sloane. The words drummed through my head all morning long. There were no blackboards at Sloane, and even the teachers looked like they were wearing designer shoes. I’d been in three classrooms so far, and none of them had desks. Everyone sat at solid wooden tables on cushioned chairs, typing away furiously at their laptops while I hunted and pecked my way across the keyboard. I’d begged my parents for a laptop for years, and the one I had now still had the unfamiliar, new feeling that comes with being two weeks old. After finding it on the school’s list of basic starting supplies, my parents had to relent and buy it.

But I wasn’t even excited about that anymore by the time the bell chimed for lunch. Laurel had materialized at my side after every single class, and I wasn’t surprised to find her standing outside my English class as students spilled out into the hallway all around us.

The cafeteria is down the hall. I always eat in the science lab. See you before fifth period. Laurel was already walking away before she finished her quick instructions, and I could only nod dumbly as she melted into the crowd. I wasn’t expecting to be left alone for lunch, but I let the tide of students carry me along in the direction of the cafeteria as I wondered into which pocket of my purse I’d stuffed my lunch money.

I was checking them as I drifted into the large room, which was filled with more of those solid-looking square tables, when I felt myself hit something soft.

A loud, female shriek immediately followed, and I closed my eyes. Under no circumstances did I want to look up to see what I’d done.

"Do you see what you’ve done?"

I shook my head back and forth, squeezing my eyes shut even more tightly.

That’s when I realized that the hum of surrounding students was gone. The entire room had lapsed into silence. I finally looked up into a pair of furious blue eyes and was immediately confronted with the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Once upon a time, I’d hoped I would grow into such a beauty. But where her blonde hair was sleek and shiny, mine was a mass of frizzy curls that sprouted in all directions, radiating away from my face like Medusa’s legendary tentacles. And her uniform was probably pristine…before I bumped into her, anyway, clearly spilling something bright orange all over her. It had fallen onto her blouse, her vest, her pleated skirt, her sheer knee socks, her shiny black heels…

I’m so sorry! I blurted. In the hushed cafeteria, my voice sounded loud and hysterical.

The blue eyes narrowed, and I thought I saw a sneer work its way onto her perfect features. I would ask you to pay for my brand-new Choos, but from your Payless specials I can tell you obviously can’t afford them. Look, Dee. It’s one of the scholarship kids.

That’s when I noticed the girl standing slightly behind her. She had a shock of auburn hair, so perfectly styled I couldn’t believe she’d been going to classes all morning and not sitting in a salon. I was too embarrassed to admit that I had no idea what the blonde was talking about. The rest of the cafeteria was starting to buzz again, but softly. The whispers made me feel like I was in a roomful of snakes.

I’m Rain Ramey, I offered weakly. I really am sorry about bumping into you. I was looking for my lunch money.

Lunch money! The blonde laughed, but there was something hard about the sound. She was looking for lunch money, she repeated it, evidently for the one called Dee’s benefit. Too bad the cashier doesn’t take food stamps. Another hard little laugh followed her cruel statement, and she nudged Dee with her shoulder.

As if on cue, Dee burst out into cold laughter, too. I felt my face flaming as they both brushed past me, each rudely knocking my shoulder as she breezed by. I stood looking after them, wishing I could vanish. Anything to avoid moving again. Maybe if I stood still long enough, everyone else would think I’d turned to stone…and then, they would stop staring.

No such luck. The whispers only grew louder, and everywhere I looked I saw faces pointed at me. I turned and exited the cafeteria as quickly as possible, practically running out of the room.

I didn’t know where else to go but my locker. Maybe I could act like I was poking around in there for the next thirty minutes, until the lunch period was over. Of course, I only had two books so far…but no one knew that but me.

I wanted to turn and run when I saw the back of another student, already buried in his own locker only two doors down from mine. But I really didn’t have anywhere else to go; I definitely wasn’t going back to the cafeteria. So I marched straight to the door of locker 389, wrenched it open and buried my arms up to my elbows inside.

New girl, huh?

The guy at locker 391 was movie-star handsome. His smile was pearly white, each tooth perfectly straight and even. He had a perfect tan and perfect blonde hair, not a single strand out of place.

Um, My mind went blank as soon as I looked at him, and I felt a flush creeping up my neck.

Owen Harper, he winked one of his green eyes at me. It’s always tough to be new. Pretty soon you’ll blend right in.

Yeah, right, I mumbled.

Just remember to look down your nose at everyone at all times, and you’ll fit in perfectly. He grinned, and a smile sprang to my lips in response.

I’m Rain Ramey. Finally I remembered my name, but he was already closing his locker.

Nice meeting you, Rain Ramey. Another flash of that perfect smile, and he turned to move down the hall. I stared into my locker, wondering if now would be a good time to just crawl inside. After all, it couldn’t be too bad to live in a locker if I could see a glimpse of Owen Harper from time to time.

There you are! I recognized the strident shriek immediately and jerked back out of the locker to look down the hall. The blonde, now garbed in her school gym uniform, was marching purposefully toward me.

Oh no, I whispered to my History book.

You’ll never believe what this trashy scholarship girl did to me in the cafeteria!

My heart sank. The blonde wasn’t coming toward me – she was heading right for Owen. Oh, no, I groaned again.

Carsyn! Why are you in your gym clothes?

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" The blonde – apparently, her name was Carsyn – was giving me the same look I once saw my mother give a beetle that found its way into our kitchen from the garden.

This is my locker, I answered.

You two know each other? Owen, poor guy, smiled at both of us.

Carsyn was annoyed by his cluelessness, or so her dramatic eye-roll suggested. "This is the girl I was telling you about. Look at my shoes," and she shoved them into his face. They were in her left hand; her feet were now clad in silver sandals.

You know, Carsyn, I heard Kate Moore say she thought they were last season. Maybe Rain here did you a favor, Owen suggested.

"Last season? Hardly. She probably doesn’t even know what that means. Wait a minute – Rain? Is that your name?"

Sure, she’s Rain Ramey, Owen spoke up when I only stared at Carsyn. And I think you look great in your gym clothes. He moved closer to her, and I felt my stomach flip over. Together, they made a gorgeously blonde, perfect pair.

Of course they were together. I should have known it the moment I saw Owen. Who else would date Barbie but Ken?

Come on, he had an arm around her shoulders now. I’ll walk you to your car so you can put those shoes in the trunk. See ya, Rain Ramey.

Bye, I muttered as they drifted down the hall together.

Laurel showed up about twenty minutes later. Have a nice lunch? She didn’t look at me as she moved books around in her locker. You have Biology next. Ready?

But she didn’t wait for an answer to the second question, either, just glanced at me before she took off toward the stairs. I sighed as I trotted after her, glad that her role as my big sister was a one-day-only event.

She paused with me at the door to class. I was stopped by the look on her face.

You can get to your last class from here. Your schedule card, she thrust a white index card at me.

Thanks, I quickly tucked it into my notebook. And thanks for showing me around.

I was assigned to you. Something in her voice made my smile of gratitude fade. I’m supposed to welcome you to Sloane Academy. I hope you get something out of it. Just don’t think about joining any of the academic clubs. I know you were probably some sort of brain at your old high school, because you won the scholarship, but you’re not one of us.

Shocked, I took a step back and stared at her with wide eyes. I beg your pardon?

You heard me. You can wear our uniform and attend our school, but you’re never going to be welcome here. She turned to walk away.

My anger erupted. A dozen thoughts filled my mind at once. Laurel– but she was already gone. I could see her brown bob moving through the bodies still packing the hall.

Things were going from bad to worse. I’d been hoping that Laurel might warm up a little. I was even thinking that maybe we could be friends. But she hated me, too. What did Sloane have against scholarships?

I was made to stand at the front of the Biology class, the same way I’d stood at the front of all my classes so far, while the teacher figured out where I would sit. He was a perfect picture of the word lanky, with a lean body that soared easily beyond six feet. Even his hands were massive, with long, slender fingers that wrapped around a notebook as he looked around the room.

Ah, yes. There’s a partner-less student and an empty seat in the back, his grey head dipped in that direction, and I was forced to move between several leering students before I finally fell into my newly-appointed seat. At least this room was a bit more like the science classes I was used to. There were only two people at every table, and the cushioned chairs had been traded for padded stools.

I couldn’t hold back the smile on my face as I settled into my brand-new seat…right next to Owen Harper.

CHAPTER 2

So, I guess you’re having an interesting first day. Owen’s smile lit up our murky little corner of the room.

I guess so. My big sister just told me I can’t join any of the academic clubs. Not that I was going to, but it was sort of a weird way to end the conversation.

He grinned. Let me guess. Laurel?

How’d you know! I cried, then remembered where I was and cast a guilty glance toward the front of the room. I wasn’t even paying attention to Mr. Stevens, who was droning on about a page in the textbook we were meant to be studying.

Don’t worry about him. He couldn’t care less what we do, Owen assured me.

So how’d you know? I repeated the question more quietly this time.

He shrugged. That’s Laurel. She’s the queen of the nerds.

The nerds have a queen? I smiled; I couldn’t help it. Owen’s grin was infectious.

He nodded. Here at Sloane they do. And Laurel rules with an iron hand. She’s the head of every academic club the school has, even though she’s only a junior. She dictates who’s in and who’s out.

Well I guess it’s not a total loss if I don’t get on the chess team, I tried to laugh it off.

Owen smiled back. Sure no big deal. If you’re worried about padding for your college applications, you can always join the drama club. Laurel doesn’t have the art geeks on lockdown. And some schools go for that artsy junk.

You’re already thinking about your college applications?

Owen looked at me strangely. Man, you really don’t fit in here, do you? Just when I was feeling completely out of place, he gave me that glorious smile yet again. I like that about you, Rain Ramey. You’re unique. I don’t know anybody else who could make an enemy out of Laurel Riordan and Carsyn von Shelton both in the same day.

Carsyn von Shelton, I repeated him. It seemed to fit the perfect blonde from the cafeteria. She never told me her name.

She doesn’t need to. Carsyn’s sort of the queen bee around here. And now you have both the school queens against you. I guess that sort of makes you a rebel.

I’m definitely not a rebel, I answered quickly.

Well then, an outsider.

Yeah, that fits, I whispered.

I didn’t feel like smiling anymore.

Hey, don’t worry. Owen said, dipping his head to meet my eyes. Everyone knows that Laurel is a complete bitch. She single-handedly kept me off the Debate Team because I’m dating Carsyn, he added bitterly.

I was a little startled by the hard edge that had come into his voice. Well, you can always argue with me if you like, I answered lightly.

Owen looked at me strangely. I need to be on the Debate Team, Rain. My dad says it’s perfect practice for litigation, and it’ll help when I’m applying to law school. Laurel Riordan and her clique are a real problem.

You already know that you want to be a lawyer? I was amazed that he had his life so well mapped. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do during Spring Break, only weeks away, and here he was already planning law school applications he wouldn’t need for years and years.

Owen looked toward the front of the classroom again, where Mr. Stevens was talking about the homework assignment from Friday that I knew nothing about. It’s what my dad wants.

I shivered at something in his tone, but just as quickly as it came the darkness that stole over his face vanished. He turned to me with one of his dazzling smiles.

I’ll just have to figure out a way to get Laurel to relax her stranglehold on all the school clubs that will help me. No big deal.

I tried to smile back. Owen Harper’s problems were easy enough to solve. Mine were just beginning.

I managed to get through Biology without saying a word to anyone but Owen, and my final class of the day was gym. I spent the last hour of school playing volleyball, and I was actually feeling better as I walked out to my car wearing my crimson and grey Sloane Academy shorts and matching T-shirt.

A blonde wearing the exact same outfit was perched on my back bumper.

Carsyn von Shelton. I stopped several steps away from the Corvair, too intimidated even to approach my own car. This was the first time, in the three months I’d been driving, that I hated my personalized license plate with the drawing of a storm cloud and pouring rain. And Dee, is it? I nodded to the girl who’d been with her in the cafeteria.

Carsyn straightened and sauntered toward me, with the sort of swagger only a beautiful girl could have. I thought maybe you’d like to have a second chance to make a good impression. Owen tells me you’re his lab partner now that Thad’s gone. And since you’re new at Sloane, I thought maybe you’d like to get off on the right foot. You would like that, wouldn’t you?

Of course. My reply came immediately. I already had an enemy in one Sloane Academy queen. If I could get Carsyn to forget her gripe with me, maybe I could survive the rest of the school year.

Great! She smiled. Come with us, then. We’re going to Veronica’s.

I didn’t dare ask what Veronica’s was – I figured I’d find out soon enough. I fell into step next to Dee, and we both tagged along behind Carsyn all the way to her convertible.

So where do you live? Carsyn screamed at me as we sped down the street. The wind whipped at her blonde hair, and it bannered out behind her like a flag to catch the sun.

Sutton Street. I went to Sutton High before I transferred.

Where’s Sutton Street? I thought I heard Dee ask from the backseat.

It’s on the south side, I think, Carsyn answered. She seemed like the kind of girl who always had the answers. So, what kind of music do you like? Here, she reached up to the visor, pulling down a CD-laden sleeve. Pick something out.

Carsyn’s CD collection was mostly pop – Katy Perry and Lady Gaga seemed to be her favorites – and we talked about various bands all the way to our destination. Veronica’s soon revealed itself to be a large department store near the downtown area of town, a brick monument to shopping with a dozen wide, gleaming windows.

We get lots of stuff here, Carsyn chirped as she turned the ignition, silencing the purring engine.

Sometimes the clerks hide special stuff just for us, Dee added as she climbed out of the backseat.

I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder and followed them inside.

I’ve often wondered what would have happened that day if I’d told Carsyn von Shelton no, thanks. Just two simple words, and the course of my life would have been entirely different. Why did I climb into her convertible that day, why did I walk into the store?

No matter how many times I ask the questions, I can’t get good answers. I wanted her to like me. I wanted to fit in at my new school. I should have already known it was impossible. I should have just gone home.

But I didn’t. And because of that, I never really went home again.

We were offered refreshments immediately, and straightaway two clerks appeared to show Carsyn and Dee the latest fashions. I was intimidated by the gleaming stone flooring, expensive wooden paneling and the hushed, reverent way the clerks acted around Carsyn. Apparently, she wasn’t just the queen of Sloane Academy – the two women were fawning over her like she was the Queen of England. I hung back, taking my cues from Dee and Carsyn.

That’s something else I would hate myself for, later.

Carsyn and Dee made their minds up very quickly; with one remark, Carsyn either adored or dismissed the various items that were shown to her. Finally she waved the clerks away and the three of us moved through the store alone, taking a glass elevator up to the second floor.

This would look great on you, Carsyn, who had been buried in a rack for the last five minutes, turned around in a whirl of blonde to present me with a pale pink minidress with black accents. Go try it on, she encouraged.

Pink wasn’t my style, but I shrugged and accepted the hanger. Okay. Be right back.

We’ll be back there with some more stuff in a minute, she promised. I nodded and walked across carpeted floors to the posh dressing rooms.

They came in moments later, giggling and whispering over something known only to them. I was in a world of pain inside that tiny room, and it was growing smaller by the minute. The tutu-like skirt could only be entered through the tiny little waist opening, and no amount of twisting would get the garment over my hips. All around me, my own reflection spun and whirled. Every time I caught my expression, I looked a little more frustrated.

How’s it look, Rain? Carsyn chirped.

Mphrf. I finally managed to heave the dress into place and held it over my chest with both hands to keep it from draping down. It’s fine.

Let’s see it! Dee cried.

I wrestled with the door one-handed. Carsyn spun me around first thing to get the dress zipped up in the back. Both of them enthusiastically praised it when I turned to face them.

You should get it, Carsyn encouraged.

It didn’t really fit and I wasn’t keen on the color, so I shook my head. I don’t know where I’d wear it, and it’s really not comfortable. I think I’ll keep looking.

They were outside the dressing room when I exited a second time, re-clad in my school uniform.

Here, a smiling Carsyn held up something shiny that she quickly fastened around my wrist.

I examined a thin gold bracelet, so fine it looked like one of the fabled threads of gold from a storybook I read as a little girl. It’s beautiful, but I’m sure I can’t afford it.

Of course you can’t, Carsyn waved her hand dismissively. I’d noticed the gesture was a habit of hers. That’s why I’m giving it to you. She gave me a little wink. It’s nothing, really.

Really, Dee echoed with a little giggle.

No, I couldn’t possibly. Carsyn had attached the bracelet to my left wrist. As a lefty, I was finding it impossible to undo the tiny little clasp with my clumsy right hand.

Don’t worry about it, Carsyn laid her hand atop my fidgeting one.

I’ve often thought back to that moment. What was in her eyes, then? But I can’t remember. All I can remember is that sweet little smile of hers, and how hopeful I felt that perhaps I’d made a friend. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad at Sloane after all.

Okay, I smiled and shrugged. After all, it was such a thin little bracelet, how much could it really cost?

Let’s go to that store on First instead, Carsyn suggested. Dee nodded quickly and trailed after her out of the dressing room.

Don’t we need to stop at the counter? I murmured as Carsyn breezed through the store.

I’ve already taken care of it, she announced airily. Another little wave accompanied the statement.

I followed Carsyn and Dee out of the lush store, my feet feeling light as they floated over the polished floors. Laurel’s locker was right next to mine. Maybe tomorrow, I could make amends with her, too, and overcome my first bad day at school. Things were going to be all right after all.

It was the last thought I had before I felt the hand clamp down on my shoulder.

Excuse me, Miss, but we need you to come with us. Two security guards in black had materialized out of nowhere, and they were both giving me a hard stare.

I looked over my shoulder for Carsyn and Dee…but they were already gone.

CHAPTER 3

The swift sword of Justice had descended, just as my mother had predicted that morning. It felt like ages and ages ago.

What? My heart was pounding as I looked up at the man with his hand on my shoulder. Maybe man isn’t really appropriate – he was only 20, at best, and looked almost as nervous as I was. His tanned skin glistened with sweat; it made his brown hair cling to his forehead in a row of small, wet curls. The dark-haired guy behind him was perhaps 23, and looking at me with a deep scowl marring his forehead.

Come with us, he repeated.

I fell into step behind him. He lead me to a small room near the front of the store that I hadn’t noticed before; I saw a bank of monitors to my left as I fell into a seat before the wooden desk. The first guard followed me inside and shut the door. When I turned over my shoulder, I saw that the second was posting himself outside the portal just before it closed.

What’s going on?

What’s that on your wrist? He countered.

I’d half-expected him to say it, and the words still gave me a sinking feeling. This isn’t mine. Not really.

I know that. But you tried to wear it out of the store.

Carsyn gave it to me. That girl I was with. She said she’d already taken care of it. If you had just stopped her instead, I’m sure she would have told you. Maybe she’s still out there. Maybe her and Dee didn’t see you stop me. Maybe they’re out there looking for me right now.

I thought, for a moment, that I saw sympathy in his brown eyes, but his gaze skipped away from mine. It doesn’t matter who took it off the shelf, Miss. You’re the one who carried it out of the store. You’re the one who’s going to be charged for shoplifting.

Shoplifting! I felt my heart stop beating. It seized up in my chest, becoming a tight knot of muscle. Shoplifting!

I’m sorry. He did briefly meet my eyes then. Maybe you can get it straightened out down at the station.

I frowned, not understanding. What station?

The police station.

Police station? I started hearing a ringing noise in my ears, and for a few sickening moments I felt as though I was staring at him from the other side of a long, long tunnel.

Miss? Miss? His voice was fuzzy at first, but as he repeated himself it became louder in my ears. Are you alright?

Yes. Yes I’m fine. I pushed myself to my feet; my knees felt wobbly. Do I have to wait for someone or do I go now?

He looked at me for a long moment before he nodded and stood. I’ll take you. I guess you don’t look much like a hardened criminal. Come on.

I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded and followed along behind him.

He was friendly to me as we drove to the police station, making small talk with me because he could see that I was nervous. The security guard’s name was Carlos, and he was working at the store part-time while attending UCLA. I told him that my brother Aaron’s lifelong ambition is to go to UCLA while I toyed with my hair, endlessly wrapping a tendril of it around my left index finger. It’s a nervous habit of mine.

Carlos even waited with me as I spoke with the desk sergeant, leaving only when the police officers told him they would take care of things and he’d best get back to the store. I was questioned for about thirty minutes before they took me to a small room with bright lights.

We’re going to fingerprint you now.

Fingerprint me! You said that I could go home.

The female officer who’d been guiding me around gave me a tender smile. You can go home, Rain, but we’ve got to finish processing you first. You aren’t going to get charged with anything, but we need the prints for your file. It’s no big deal. I’ve had my prints taken.

You have?

Sure, it’s nothing. Smiling, she coaxed me forward to dip each of my fingers on a black, sponge-like pad before she pressed them down onto a white card.

It took only a few minutes, and afterward my fingertips were stained with black.

Can I go home now?

Just a few minutes more. I’m going to input this into the computer, and then give you something to sign saying that you didn’t remove the bracelet from the display and you’re giving it back willingly. I’ll have one of the officers bring you a soda to sip on while you wait, okay?

Okay. I sank into one of the chairs in the little room I was meant to wait in. A few minutes later, the promised officer arrived with a can of soda.

Do I need to talk to you about the dangers of a life of crime? He gave me a small smile as he asked the question.

He had listened to my statement along with the female police officer – I think she said her name was Officer Baker – and seemed to be the first to believe my innocence.

Nothing like this will ever happen again. You have my word on it, I vowed. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.

Well, we had to call your parents to come pick you up, but I explained to them that you aren’t being charged because we don’t think you’re guilty.

You called my parents? I had to set the soda down on a small side table. Any second, I was going to be sick.

I told them I don’t think they have anything to worry about, as long as you remember that going along with the pack isn’t always the best strategy. He gave me a hard look. You’ll remember that, won’t you, Rain?

I’ll remember. My parents will make sure I remember, I muttered. My mom was going to freak. I could already hear her, lecturing about college applications and how Stanford won’t take kids with criminal records. And my dad – he would just look at me sadly and shake his head.

But, that’s not what happened.

The door flew open a moment later, propelled by a red-faced young officer who barely looked older than me. Matthews. You need to come take a look at this. We got a hit on the prints.

You sit tight. I’ll be right back, Officer Matthews was out the door quickly. He pulled it shut behind him, but it didn’t click into place. It slid open a few inches, and I could see him moving with the young officer to a computer on a desk across from the little waiting room.

He stared in wide-eyed shock at the monitor before his head jerked up to look in my direction. I quickly looked away, forcing my eyes to the back wall. My heart was beginning to drum against my chest in a slow, steady rhythm. Even then, I could sense that something was wrong.

We got a hit on the prints, he’d said. What did that mean?

I leaned closer to the crack of the door, straining to hear.

Of course I called her parents. They’re on their way to collect her. The voice that answered him was female. I was pretty sure it belonged to Officer Baker. We batter take this to Sarge and see what he says about it.

Both of them rushed past the door to another part of the building, and I was left wondering what was going on that had them looking so agitated.

I probably sat there for about ten minutes, but it felt like ten years. I could hear nothing during this time but phones ringing and voices calling to each other. No one came to the door to tell me if my parents had come to get me yet, and no one had returned with the papers I was supposed to sign about the bracelet.

Finally I stood and opened the door, peering out to see if I could locate Officers Baker or Matthews. But I saw my dad instead – and he had a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

Dad? Oh my God, Dad! I started to jog down the hallway, but it seemed so much longer with every step. My dad looked up at me, and for a moment our eyes caught and held. I’d always loved my father’s big, wheat-colored eyes, so different from my own. They were always so kind and tender. But in that moment, they were filled with tears.

Rain. He whispered my name, but somehow I could hear it.

Dad? I was almost there – I even reached out for him. But a hand came from nowhere and caught my arm, pulling me back.

This way, Miss. It was the young officer I’d seen earlier, the one who came to get Matthews out of the waiting room the moment my life changed for ever.

But, that’s my dad! What’s going on? I demanded.

We just need you to sit in here. Someone’s already on their way over.

My parents were supposed to be on the way over! Where’s my mom? I could feel the tears bubbling in my eyes. Why wouldn’t anyone tell me what was going on? Had Carsyn denied my story? Did the store say I was shoplifting after all? Was I going to get charged with a crime? And why was my dad in handcuffs?

Just sit in here. We were back in the waiting room.

Please, a few tears spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. Just tell me what’s happening.

He must have taken pity on me, because I saw something soften in his expression. Your mom and dad are being held for questioning right now.

Questioning? But they didn’t have anything to do with the bracelet. I didn’t even call to tell them I was going shopping. I’m probably in trouble for that already. They really didn’t know about any of it! I desperately tried to explain.

It’s not about the bracelet.

I frowned. Then…what’s it about?

Obviously he regretted getting into this conversation with me. He looked down at the toes of his boots before answering, and when he looked up he wouldn’t meet my eyes. You were flagged in the database as a missing person.

But I’m not missing. I’m right here.

A social worker is on her way. She’ll be here any minute to explain it to you.

But I don’t understand. What crime are my parents being questioned about? I asked.

He cleared his throat before answering. They’re being questioned about a kidnapping, Rain.

CHAPTER 4

It didn’t really sink in right away. The word kept bouncing around in my suddenly-empty head, completely devoid of all meaning. Kidnapping.

But why would the police want to question them about something like that?

I wouldn’t get an answer for thirty-five minutes, the amount of time it took for the social worker to arrive. I made about a dozen calls on my mobile phone to Aaron, my mom and dad and the house phone, but no one answered and I just listened to empty, hollow ringing as my tension mounted. Finally the social worker came bursting into the room, but I heard her coming well before the door flew open. She was wearing the clunky, square-heeled kind of shoes that made loud, clip-clopping sounds on the linoleum floor. There was a run on the left leg of her pantyhose, and I could see a bit of lace where her hem was slipping past her wrinkle-resistant polyester skirt. It was a nondescript brown color, like her hair, and a poor match for the blue blouse she wore under the matching jacket.

Rebecca Keene, Child Protective Services, she introduced herself immediately, thrusting a pale, cold hand out toward me. I shook it automatically. She pulled back quickly, flipping open a manila folder to glance at it before looking back up at me. You must be Chloe.

Chloe? No. I’m Rain Ramey.

Ramey. Ramey, she flipped open the folder again, turning pages. Yes of course. Rain, right?

That’s me. I nodded. Then, all the questions came exploding out of me. What’s going on? Where are my parents? The policeman said something about kidnapping?

She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. It was just one of many tendrils that had escaped the bun at the nape of her neck. Rebecca Keene looked tired and harried, and I’d never missed my mother more than I did in that moment. That’s right, Rain. Your parents are still being questioned in connection with an infant girl who disappeared more than fourteen years ago.

My head tilted to one side as I stared at her. But it’s all just a misunderstanding. My parents haven’t kidnapped anybody.

Rebecca Keene gazed at me before her eyes lowered to the folder in front of her. Today, the child would be sixteen years old. At birth, she had blue eyes and blonde hair. Like all babies born in the Silverwood Hospital since 1985, her fingerprints were taken shortly after she was born. The fingerprints found a match for the first time tonight, her dark green eyes found mind before she continued. When your ten-print card was ran through the database.

My ears were ringing again. I felt my fingertips go numb. My eyes were cloudy; it seemed as though I was looking at Rebecca Keene through fog. I don’t understand.

Rain, you are a match for that missing child. Arthur and Rhianna Ramey are not your natural parents. They abducted you from your home when you were eighteen months old.

It’s the blue house near the end of the street. My voice sounded wooden in my own ears. I didn’t even look up to give the directions. I was staring down at my hands. My fingertips were still grey from the ink. My ears were still ringing from the news.

My mom and dad, kidnappers? No, wait…they weren’t my mom and dad. According to Rebecca Keene, they were strangers who had taken me right out of my own home.

It had been hours since I left Sloane, and yet it didn’t seem like enough time had passed. The sun was just setting as we rolled slowly down the tree-lined street, painting the world around me in a soft, golden light. The brown sedan came to a halt with a little jerk right in front of the house.

The tears came unbidden as I wrenched open the car door, unlatched my seat belt and stumbled out of the car. It was unthinkable that I wouldn’t walk in the blue house to find my parents waiting for me. Mom would be in the kitchen, getting dinner together, probably worrying about me because I was so late. Dad would be watching the cable news channel that always made him angry, so he could argue loudly with my mom while she cooked.

Aaron! Aaron! I started shouting for him as soon I got the front door open, a task barely accomplished with my shaking hands.

Rain!

I had started running up the stairs. Rebecca Keene was hot on my heels as I flew around the corner and flung open the door at the far end. Aaron! Up, up another flight of stairs into the shadowy attic above.

"Rain!" A stamp punctuated my name.

Aaron’s room was dark and empty. Something about it felt lonely and desolate, as if he’d been gone for hours.

My brother isn’t here. I felt like bursting into tears as I stumbled back down the stairs to reach the second floor.

Rebecca Keene was wearing a very put-upon expression on her face as I made the announcement. She was practically fuming. Of course he isn’t, Rain. He’s also been taken into protective custody. There are no legal guardians in the house, and he’s a minor.

Did they…Is Aaron… I couldn’t quite find a way to ask the question.

The investigation is still pending, Rain, but to my knowledge there is no reason to believe that Aaron Ramey isn’t their natural child. He’s been taken into custody only for his own safety. We can’t be sure when or if Arthur and Rhianna Ramey will return to the premises.

Art, I corrected automatically.

Beg pardon?

He likes to be called Art.

"Art," she emphasized the t.

A chilling numbness had settled over me. I couldn’t stop looking at my grey fingertips. I moved past Rebecca to a door in the middle of the hallway: my room. She’d brought me back home so I could pack a bag or two. I was being taken to a facility for the night while someone contacted my natural parents, whoever they were.

Fourteen years, she’d said. What if my natural parents were no longer interested in a baby who was practically all grown up? And what if I wasn’t interested in them? But I didn’t dare ask the questions. Something told me I wasn’t going to like the answers I heard, if I got any answers at all.

So I moved around my bedroom woodenly, blindly piling pairs of jeans and sweatshirts into a gold duffel bag with the UCLA logo stenciled all over it. I caught myself wondering if somehow Aaron had ended up with a duffle bag with the bright Stanford red on it in his room.

It didn’t occur to me, then, that it was probably the last time I would ever see that room. Everything was too strange, too surreal. I felt as if I were underwater – my every move was that slow and wobbly. My entire life was changing, and I couldn’t think of much of anything. Instead, I could hear Rebecca Keene’s heavy heels tapping on the floor as she paced around outside the room impatiently. Somewhere, a faucet was dripping. Each drop was magnified in my ears, pounding down onto the drain. My mom always joked that our house was filled with leaks, something she loved to tease my dad about because he was a plumber. What is it they say about the shoemaker with no shoes? She asked him that at least a dozen times over the years.

My mom and dad. My kidnappers.

I didn’t feel anything about it, then. I didn’t feel anything as I wandered around my room, wondering if I should pack my leather boots in the bottom of the bag.

I guess that’s enough. I half-whispered the statement to the duffle.

I’m sure you can always come back if you think of something else, Rebecca Keene assured me, stepping into the room for the first time to help me force the zipper closed. She lifted the bag and waved me out of the door in front of her.

Can’t you tell me something about them? My real parents, I mean? Their name, at least? Suddenly, I found that I couldn’t move toward her. I couldn’t leave the familiar comfort of my room behind without knowing what was waiting for me on the other side.

Rebecca Keene wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. It’s probably best to let them introduce themselves to you. It can be a good ice-breaker, getting to know each other.

"You can’t even tell me their name?"

She tried to give me a reassuring smile, but on her the expression looked like a grimace. All introductions start with names. Come along now, Rain. She ushered me out the door and down the steps.

I should check and make sure the windows are locked and stuff. I mean, if Aaron isn’t coming home… I stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked around our house. When I left that morning, it was homey and cheerful. But in the fading light of the worst day of my life, it looked so lonely and grim I wanted to burst into tears.

You don’t have to worry about that, Rain. Mrs. Ramey’s sister is already in contact with our office regarding Aaron. I’m sure she’ll take care of the house.

Aunt Ronnie? I nodded. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll take care of everything.

Then let’s go.

Okay. I moved to the front door, pulling it shut and locking it behind us.

I didn’t even think to take one last look back.

Rebecca Keene drove me to a gray concrete building outside of town, just on the cusp of the city. I nearly nodded off during the long drive, and when I stepped out of the car my legs felt like they were made of clay. The steps leading up to the iron doors were stained with multicolored spots – old pieces of gum. Inside, the tiled floors were grimy and cracked, and her feet echoed down the long corridors as she approached a man sitting inside a glass booth. They talked for several moments before she nodded to me and stepped toward a bank of elevators on the right.

I’m sure this will only be for one night, she assured me as we rode the elevator, which churned and clanked its way up to the fourth floor.

Where are we? It was the first thing I’d said since leaving my house…what used to be my house.

We’re at a state-run facility with temporary housing for kids your age. Rebecca glanced at me out of the side of her eye. I’m taking you to the troubled youth ward.

Troubled youth…like, criminals?

No, troubled youth like emotional problems.

That’s when the doors slid open, and the puzzle pieces slid into place inside my mind. I was being taken into the psychiatric ward of a state hospital.

CHAPTER 5

I know what you’re thinking, but it’s more comfortable than the state orphanage, and close to your natural parents. You’ll be able to leave here all the sooner tomorrow, she continued as she led me down the hall. Under the fluorescent lights, everything had a bluish cast.

Rebecca Keene had no idea what I was thinking. I’d seen nothing of it yet, and already this place was infinitely preferable to a family I knew nothing about. And what made her so sure they were coming for me tomorrow, anyway?

But I said nothing as she led me to a locked door, where we waited in silence for an attendant to arrive with a ring of keys. Amid jangling we were led through three more doors and a metal detector before Rebecca approached another little booth to commence a whispered conversation with the woman on the other side. At one point, she stepped over to me to take my purse