Cries of Innocence

By Angela Beach Silverthorne

Suspense. Intrigue. Evil. Faith.
In the small coastal community of Silverton, an evil presence resides. Over time most residents have grown numb to its insidious and subtle presence. A few have resisted.
Seventeen-year-old Bren has lived a life of abuse, discrimination, and exclusion. She blames her father, the town drunk, for every misery she has ever endured. Instead of surviving within her situation like others do, Bren is fiery mad and begins to push against a system she can’t begin to understand. When her efforts fail, she decides to escape with her mom. They never make it.
Bren is whisked away to The Haven, home of her paternal grandmother, GG. Under her tutelage, Bren is awakened to a destiny she could have never envisioned. She learns about the truth and witnesses another side of life. In the process of self-discovery, she has to deal with her on weaknesses, fears, and unforgiveness.
As evil approaches Bren asks, “Who are we up against?” The answer strikes deep within her breast.
Can she stand firm? Can she look into the eyes of hate and forgive? If she can’t, her greatest fear will be realized.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Beach Silverthorne
• Release date: Aug 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370089062

Angela Beach Silverthorne

I was born in West Point, Georgia, but hail Williamston, North Carolina as home. Writing has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. I read and write in all genres. Both are my chocolate; they're addictive! In 1970, I married by teenage sweetheart, Dallas. Our family has grown from three daughters to seven granddaughters and three wonderful son-in-laws. In the large bulk of time between marriage and family, we moved ten times, and I worked various jobs - 15 years with Hospice, 10 with Literacy, 3 as a Court Appointed Special Advocate for neglected, abused and abandoned youth, and as a Director of a preschool for at-risk children. Between the moves and life, I craved learning. I attended five colleges, finally graduating from the State University of New York, Albany, with an English degree. Every school I attended, I'd fall in love with a new discipline - accounting, microbiology, creative writing, Shakespearean studies, or Young Adult Literature. Even now at sixty, I'm still searching, often wondering what I'll be when I grow up. Whatever it is, I'm sure writing will always be a part of it.

Book preview

Contents

Map of The Haven

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Part II

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Part III

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Alicia’s Recipes

Tomato Soup Cake

Krispy Kreme Cake

Nabs Cake

GG’s Kitchen Recipes

Lavender Lemon Pudding Cake

Orzo Tri Color

Chicken with Herbs de Provence

Lavender Tea Cookies

Offers from the Remedy Room

Acknowledgements

About the Author

***

The Haven

A map of The Haven can be found in the printed version of Cries of Innocence.

***

Part

1

The Disclosure

If your prayers haven’t been answered, it doesn’t mean they won’t be answered. In fact, they may already have been answered, but just not the way you wanted or expected them to be.

~ Stormie Omartian

***

Chapter 1

Bren

I did it! Bren could barely contain her excitement.

Mrs. Murdoch, the cheerleading coach, had walked up to Bren after gym class and congratulated her on making the cheerleading squad. She knew this was unprecedented. No one was supposed to learn about the selections until tomorrow’s pep rally. Once Mrs. Murdoch told Bren she had been selected, she tuned out the coach’s next few statements. All Bren wanted to do was run and tell her best friends, Robyn and Luci Allen, the good news.

A change in Mrs. Murdoch’s voice brought Bren back to the present. I’m holding you in strictest confidence on this. You realize the risk I’m taking, don’t you?

Mrs. Murdoch hesitated, the smile dropping off her face before being replaced with stubborn resignation. Let me be perfectly honest. I don’t see how you’ll be able to fulfill the necessary requirements to be a cheerleader. The squad often travels to perform. It’s very demanding and costly.

The coach paused, drawing closer to Bren and lowering her voice. Knowing this, I’m encouraging you to decline the invitation. You do understand, don’t you? Mrs. Murdoch reached out her hand but quickly withdrew it.

Mrs. Murdoch has some nerve, Bren thought. I must have heard something wrong. Give up cheerleading before even having a chance? Decline the invitation? Then the real issue slammed her—money. Again, her family’s financial situation had trumped everything else. It was no secret her mom was the only one working and her dad was the town drunk. Still, Bren felt she’d worked hard to make a name for herself. Shouldn’t that be enough?

Calming herself, Bren made sure her words were slow and deliberate. I understand completely.

Mrs. Murdoch lifted her left eyebrow, pausing briefly before offering a smile. You’re a bright girl. When you leave this town, you can begin to make a name for yourself.

Bren seared in anger. Mrs. Murdoch smiled and walked away. At that moment, Bren wanted to run the witch down and pull out her overly teased, overly processed hair. Bren’s hatred boiled.

Hey, we’ve been looking for you everywhere! Luci Allen and Robyn squealed simultaneously as they approached their friend.

"Did you hear the news? Bobby Joe Griffin just asked Jenny Mulligan to be his date for the pep rally. I can’t wait to see Blaine pull her hair out. Please God let me be there when it happens!" Robyn shivered with excitement, clutching her books tighter to her chest.

Who cares? Bren asked.

Like everybody who is anybody. What gives with you? You were the very one who was making bets on those two yesterday. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of dropping Justin for Bobby Joe? Then again, Bobby Joe is kinda cute.

Bren couldn’t stand it any longer. She picked up her gym bag and headed toward the exit. She had to get out of there before she blew up.

Bren, what gives? Are you all right? Luci Allen yelled.

Bren never looked back, feeling her jaw tighten with resolve. She was sick of being pigeonholed as some sort of economic social outcast because of her parents.

Bren pushed open the exit door just as a familiar hand grabbed her arm.

Where’re you off to in such a hurry? Justin asked, drawing her into the open fold of his letter jacket.

For once, Justin was a welcome sight. She closed her eyes, allowing the smell of sweat, leather, and Tommy cologne to comfort her.

This feels good. Yesterday you didn’t want a thing to do with me. What’s up? he asked as he pulled her closer.

Bren pushed him away. Nothing.

Justin grabbed her by the shoulder, digging in deep. Slow down. What’s up with you? Don’t tease me. Justin yanked her back in, snarling. If you lead me on, you’ll regret it.

Justin, let me go. I’m in a hurry. I’ll catch up with you later, Bren said, struggling to free herself.

Let you go? I don’t think so. We have a date tonight. If you’re trying to ditch me, think twice.

She stopped struggling and composed herself. Justin, I can’t make it tonight. How’s about another night?

Justin furrowed his brow. He stood a head taller than her, his thick broad shoulders gigantic and imposing. Unfortunately, she knew his anger and shuddered. He couldn’t deal with any kind of conflict. Two days before, he’d pinned his buddy, Aaron, to the wrestling mat in an illegal maneuver and was penalized with two weeks off the team. No one crossed Justin Tinsley.

Seeing his jaw draw tight, Bren backed down. Okay. I’ll be ready at six o’clock, but I have to be home early.

Don’t forget your promise. I haven’t. You said later. I say tonight. He squeezed her arm, stooped down eye-to-eye, tightened his lips, and blew out staled, nasal breath as a silent threat.

Bren threw her book bag on the kitchen table. Her mind was filled with so much anger she could barely manage her thoughts.

Hi, sweetie. How was your day? her mother asked.

Bren shook her head and rolled her eyes. Linda Parrot was always trying. Trying to be nice. Trying to be the best mom. Trying to make everyone happy in every imaginable, insufferable situation. Right now, Bren almost hated her mother’s sheepish voice and insecure face. Bren hated the small, neat kitchen with its gingham curtains and Plaster of Paris duck towel holder. She wanted to pick up the chrome-plated, rusty chairs with their torn Naugahyde cushions and fling them at her mother. Bren wanted someone to pay for her unhappiness and all the crap she had to take that she didn’t ask for and didn’t need.

Seeing her mother’s face sink into sadness, Bren realized the woman in front of her was not her enemy. Fine, Mom. How was yours?

Her mother’s whole demeanor changed. Brenda Sue, I couldn’t wait to tell you . . . I just got promoted. I mean, Mr. Carnes waltzed right into my little cubicle and said, ‘Linda, you’ve done a great job, and I think you can handle the position of office manager.’ Linda threw herself around Bren, laughing and crying at the same time.

Bren felt like she might suffocate. Her mother’s hold was enough to send Bren over the top, but the odor emanating from her mother was worse. Bren couldn’t remember a time when her mother wasn’t wearing the obnoxious fragrance her mother-in-law sent her. And, no amount of ridicule stopped her mom from dousing it on every morning.

Even with Bren pushing her mother away, she continued. Honey, do you know what this means? Maybe, just maybe, we can start to see some progress. I know it’ll be slow, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, now was it? Linda looked like a child with her mouth puckered, waiting for her daughter’s response.

Bren wiggled out of her mother’s grasp, patting her on the back so she wouldn’t sense her daughter’s repulsion and rejection. Mom, please call me Bren. Taking a deep breath, she tried hard to rally support. Mom, that’s nice. I’m sure things will get better.

Not seeming to notice Bren’s comment, Linda continued, Oh, by the way, honey, Aaron’s mom came into the office today. She was real upset about Justin’s violent behavior toward Aaron. She said her son might need a neck brace.

That’s Justin. Mr. Macho.

Bren? Linda hesitated before proceeding, Does Justin ever get rough with you?

Bren stared at her mom to the point both were getting uncomfortable. Then Bren picked up her book bag, slung it over her shoulder, and opened the refrigerator. Seeing inside reminded her that this was the only full thing in the house. Mom made it a point to put groceries ahead of debtors. Thank God.

Picking up a can of soda, Bren finally addressed her mom, I know how to handle guys like Justin. I’ve got the best role model around. A look of concern shadowed her mother’s face. Don’t worry. It’s not your fault Dad’s the biggest loser in town.

Bren, please, he’s your—

He’s nothing to me. Not now. Not ever.

Bren headed down the hallway to her room, or rather to the room she shared with her five-year-old twin sisters. When she opened the door, there was silence. Not only was it weird, it never happened. Silence was not a word Abigail or Amy understood. Always talking. Always following Bren. Always begging to be held. Always whining for another bedtime story. Always needing another glass of water. Always demanding, squealing, and jumping.

Gotcha!

Screams of delight erupted from behind the bedroom door as Amy and Abigail leaped at their sister, their skinny arms outstretched and their fingers wiggling wildly.

Before Bren knew it, both girls had latched themselves around her torso, lacing their legs tightly around the bottom half of her body. If she hadn’t caught the edge of the dresser for support, she would have fallen headfirst into the end of the bedpost.

Amy! Abigail! Get off of me! Are you trying to kill me? Bren screamed.

Amy and Abigail let go and slumped to the floor. Bren knew the girls loved her, but she was a teenager and needed her space. Sometimes they forgot.

Guess what? Amy chimed.

What? Bren responded as she shuffled through her bookbag.

I hit Tommy Lee at recess, Amy said, obviously proud of herself.

Nuh uh. You’re a big liar, Abigail taunted. You only hit Tommy Lee after he slugged you.

Well, so what. I still hit him, and it felt real good. Tomorrow I’ll hit someone else.

Nu huh! Because if you do—

Shut up, both of you. Go pester Mom. If you don’t, I’m going to do what I’m thinking. Right now I’m visualizing how tape is going to look over your mouths, permanently stuck to your lips. As the tape dries, it’ll begin to curl upward, pinching off your nostrils and causing you to suffocate and die an extremely painful death.

Both girls ran out of the room screaming, Mama, Mama! Brenda Sue’s going to kill us.

Bren sat in the middle of her twin bed trying to figure out how she was going to show Mrs. Murdoch Bren could not be intimidated. She would accept the cheerleading nomination. She knew she had the skills. In fact, she knew she’d be one of Silverton’s best cheerleaders, if not the best. She had worked long hours during the summer to perfect her kicks, tearing two ligaments in the process by pushing herself. Bren had even convinced her friend, Cassandra, to share some moves from her many dance classes. Bren took notes, went straight home, and practiced for hours. When she couldn’t perfect a step, she would ask Cassandra for more help.

When Bren participated in tryouts, she not only faced the outgoing cheerleading squad, judges, teachers, and staff, but the whole school, plus several elite community members. The gym was lined with hundreds of spectators. Bren loved it. She liked to be noticed for her accomplishments. No one could possibly miss how she beamed when she took center court. Her teal eyes gleamed, and her dark brown hair fell, lush and heavy. Her legs were long, lean, and muscular, the arch of her back perfect and graceful.

Her one big drive was personal achievement. She wanted to be number one in class, number one on the track team, and number one as a cheerleader. She couldn’t have cared less about flaunting her beauty; instead, she wanted people to admire her for her drive and determination.

Knowing all this about herself, why had she allowed Justin in her life? She could look at her mother and her mother’s friends to see where a guy like that got you. How in the world was she going to get rid of him? After just a few dates, Justin already acted like he owned her. Their last two dates had been a physical battle to get him off her. The word no did not seem to be in Justin’s vocabulary. Bren realized being coy had only made things worse.

A tap on the door caused Bren to look up.

Hi, sweetie, can I come in? Bren’s mom barely spoke above a whisper; it seemed more like a plea.

Bren closed her eyes. Why couldn’t her mom just be a mom? Why was she always stepping around like she was scared to death of everything and everybody?

Come in.

Linda entered and so did the awful smell. I forgot if you were going to be here for supper. I’m making your favorite: mac ‘n cheese and barbecued hot dogs. I could whip up a pan of biscuits, too, if you’d like.

Mom, throw away that stinking perfume. And could you get rid of the dead plants hanging in the kitchen? Bren sighed and then continued, I’m going out with Justin. He’ll be here at six o’clock. I’ll grab something later.

Linda nodded and lowered her head.

Bren felt a stab of regret and quickly added, Mom save me some supper. I’ll eat it when I get home.

Six o’clock. Bren knew she had to hurry. Justin waited for no one. Running the brush through her hair, she realized she had to break up with him. He was pushing her too much, too fast. In his mind, he felt they’d been together long enough for sex. Sex? Bren could barely stand for him to touch her. What started out as gentle, explorative, and sweet was getting out of hand. Bren had tried to discuss her feelings with him one night but stopped when he slammed his fist into the steering wheel.

What about my needs and feelings? Men don’t put up with this kissy face stuff for long. Put up or shut up. You decide if you want to do it, or I can find lots who will.

Bren felt like a top spinning out of control. The floor of her self-confidence cracked. Looking around the room, she saw nothing but hopelessness, and for a second her breath stalled. Fighting was getting so hard. Most of the time, she hung on by moments, knowing in a split second everything could change. But she refused to meld into a clone of everyone else around her. She wanted more. Her biggest fear was looking in the mirror and seeing someone she didn’t want to meet and knew she couldn’t live with.

Tonight. Justin’s out of my life tonight.

***

Chapter 2

Bren

Justin arrived promptly at six. Bren heard him honk the horn in three, quick consecutive bursts. He told her it was her cue to run or get left.

Bren sprinted from her bedroom, almost running into her dad who was coming into their apartment. That boy better learn some manners, he said as Bren hurried by him. In a louder voice, he declared, Tell him to come to the door next time, or he’s going to be sorry. Do you understand?

Bren knew not to answer, so she kept her course. Once she got inside the car, she noticed Justin’s grim countenance.

What’s the matter? she inquired.

Aaron’s mom’s trying to cause trouble.

Why?

Everyone’s got this idea that I went after Aaron on purpose. No one knows the true Aaron. I just got tired of him. I don’t take crap from anyone. Justin rammed the gearshift into drive, peeling the car away from the curb.

She kept quiet. It was one lesson she had learned from her mama: If you know what’s good for you, you keep quiet when a man gets upset.

He drove for several minutes before he slowed down. Bren noted his right hand unclenching, offering her the same opportunity. She looked out the window, admiring the neighborhood flowers and greenery, and wondered if she would ever have a place so nice.

Justin cut her thoughts, loudly declaring, One day I’m going to show this whole town what I’m made of. You keep an eye on me. I’m headed for big things.

Hoping the upward curl of his lips meant he’d settle down, Bren kept quiet.

He drove a couple more miles before pulling off the road near Ralph Smith’s farm. Bren was very familiar with the old dirt road. It was common ground for teenagers who wanted to be alone. She started to protest but didn’t. Gauging her words, she decided to wait until he stopped.

During the short drive, she had concocted a plan. Bren would confess the relationship was not working for Justin. It didn’t meet his needs at all. For starters, she had no interest in sex, but she knew Justin did. Furthermore, she knew several girls were waiting in line desperate for his attention. Finally, Bren would mention they could remain friends. She’d rehearsed it in her head. It seemed like the perfect plan for both of them. Justin got his needs met. Bren got rid of Justin.

Justin pulled down a side road and parked under a large poplar tree. Great, we’ve got the place to ourselves.

Justin rolled down the window. A chilly breeze filled the car’s interior.

Bren closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest. The crickets were singing a high-pitched, earthy song. Just as soon as one group would start, another would round robin. All she could think about was how peaceful it was—the quiet and the crickets.

Bren? Justin said in a low, husky voice. I really need you.

His words caused her chest to stretch as she held her breath.

Facing her, he lifted his right leg and pushed it behind her, forcing her away from the seat.

Look Justin, we need to talk, she said, trying to sit on the edge of the seat.

Shut up!

Bren grew frantic. Listen to me. You’ve got lots of girls who want your affection, who have the same needs you do. I’m not one of those girls.

Justin reached over with his right hand and grabbed the back of her neck. Shut up, now! I don’t care what you think. Sit back, or I’ll make you sit back.

Shaking, she closed her eyes and slid back until he released her neck. Keeping her eyes closed, she heard him undo the buckle on his Levi’s. A sharp pain struck between her breasts and threatened to suffocate her. Breaths came in shallow thrusts, starting in her chest and ending in the pit of her stomach.

He reached for her hand. At first he held it softly. She could feel him turn it over and over again as if examining it. Then she felt him guide her hand to his privates. Her breathing stopped as she realized what he wanted her to do. Her mind froze. Tightening her eyes, she tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. Tears rolled down her cheeks without restraint.

For the first time in her life, Bren knew what it meant to feel used. She realized powerlessness to its fullest and gagged on its violation. In all her life, she had felt a lot of heart-crushing pain, but this one act rendered her a victim. Justin finished and wiped off her hand. Trembling, she vowed she would never allow anyone to get that close to her again. Ever.

Next time it’ll be the real thing. You understand? Reaching over, he grabbed her breast and twisted hard. I let you off easy this time. Releasing her, he threw his head back and laughed. I’m starving. Let’s run over to Joe’s and grab a burger.

Justin rearranged himself and moved back to his side of the car. Bren pulled her used hand to her side, letting it lay limp, not wanting it corrupted further. She kept her eyes closed and slowly pushed her back against the seat. The tightness welling up inside her stomach was unforgiving as it rippled into one cramp after another. She wanted to go home, scrub the filth off her body, and go to bed. Maybe sleep would wash away this nightmare. Maybe, if she slept long enough, she’d wake up refreshed and start over more determined than ever to manage her life to the exclusion of everyone else. Especially Justin.

You okay?

Take me home, Bren said, giving no room for misinterpretation or rebuttal.

Bren got up early and slipped out of the house before anyone stirred. She loved this time of the morning, the air clean and crisp. After stretching to limber her back and legs, she set off on a run down the length of Silverton’s waterfront. On Main Street, she took a sharp right onto Adams Parkway, opening her stride to the max.

Looking out over the water, Bren began to envision another world, another time and place. Sparkling dewdrops hung in mid-air, creating a mystical fantasyland. A lone bass boat drifted by, a solitary figure hunched in its aft. Running faster, she tried to keep up with the jon boat. She wanted to sprint to a lift, to push beyond this existence, to take wing and fly. She sought to embrace the dewdrops and skip along the edges of the purple-pink sky. She desired to touch the splintered tips of the pines, whisk past the houses lining the banks of the sound, and head straight for the open sea, to another place and another life.

Hey, Bren, wait up. Creed Davone caught up and set his pace with hers.

At first she acted as if she didn’t see him. Holding onto silence for a few more precious seconds, she finally responded, What’re you doing out here so early?

It’s the most beautiful part of the day. It’s my time. What about you? What’s a good looking girl like you doing out here all alone at sun-up? He tossed her a brilliant smile, lowering his head slightly to flash a teasing amber wink.

Now or never. Bren turned the corner sharply, hoping to shake him. This was her time to be alone, to think. She didn’t need his company to add more confusion to her life.

Whoa, girlfriend. If you change directions that quickly and expect me to keep up, I’m going to end up sprawled all over the road!

I appreciate that you want to keep me company, but I need some space.

He didn’t stop or turn in the opposite direction, but instead kept up with Bren and remained quiet. Within a few minutes, both runners were in sync—breath and footfall. The silence remained between them, but secretly Bren was thankful he hung in despite her aloofness. There was a strength and presence about him she desperately needed.

At the corner of Fifth and Belvue, Bren slowed to a stop. She sat down on the curb and laid her head on her knees. All she could concentrate on was her jagged breathing. Her ears roared, her heartbeat pounded, and her calf muscles went into tight, achy spasms. Minutes went by before she realized Creed had flopped down beside her. He was lying on his back with his arms stretched high above his head. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving.

Remind me never to run with you again, he said in between rasps of air.

I don’t remember inviting you.

Testy, testy. What’d I do to earn that? Are you rebuffing a boy with a hundred fifty IQ, co-captain of the track team, and Mr. Rodman’s number one pupil? Or is it because I’m one good looking black boy who’s trying to run down a beautiful white girl? Creed began laughing, adding, Which is all a pile of BS! Laughter escalated into a hearty bellow.

Bren couldn’t stand it any longer. The whole time he talked, she couldn’t help but smile. When he started to laugh, she fell back, her own laughter blending into his. She tried to stop, but every time she looked at him, it began all over again. Her side was killing her and tears flowed down her face. Never had anything seemed so funny. Every time she thought about the two of them sprawled on the street corner, laughing hysterically, she would lose it again. What must the neighbors be thinking, seeing a white girl and a black boy lying out in front of the world, in the middle of downtown Silverton, just past dawn? What would her dad say if he staggered by? Maybe he’d think she’d gone over to the niggers, a crass name he used about people he detested, black and white. For once, she was glad she had gone over to the niggers. In fact, she was delighted.

Stop! You’re killing me, Bren squealed.

They tried to gain composure with little success. A minute of silence would follow, and then one of them would erupt again. It was getting insane. Finally, Bren stood up and brushed off her shorts. It took all her energy to keep from laughing, but she was determined to take control. She felt total abandon and wasn’t comfortable with it.

Whew. You’re too much, girl. I think I just burned more energy on this street corner than those ten blocks of pavement you tried to kill me on, Creed said, his eyes glinting, full of amusement.

Bren took a moment to study him. She didn’t see a black boy or a high school scholar; she only saw a potential friend. But she quickly reined in her line of thinking. Creed would only escalate the tension in her life; the fact that he was so easy to be with was a shame. In the last few minutes, his company had been a much-needed distraction from everything that had happened over the last day. She only prayed the calm she felt would roll over into what was going to happen later at school.

Thanks for sticking with me this morning. I know I haven’t been the best of company, but it was fun running with you. Maybe we can do it again.

What say? You want me to run with you? Well, now I feel like I’ve just been jacked up and flipped around. You ain’t fooling me, are you?

Creed, you’re too much. I run every other morning, same time about the same place. Just join me anytime. It really helps me keep my pace.

Well girl, you might have a date. That’s a running date, I mean. Date with a running mate. Sounds like some corny song my mom would sing. That lady drives me crazy with her oldie-goldie music. Creed tossed her a smile, This is my exit. Coach Dunn won’t be happy if I’m late. After this killer jog, I might not be able to run my one hundred laps. So much for being a star athlete.

Bren watched as Creed sprinted away. Halfway up the block he waved. She returned the gesture, and then chastised herself for seeming too enthusiastic. All the way home she kept reminding herself she couldn’t add more grief to her life by being friends with Creed. He was the kiss of death—at school with her friends, at home with her dad, and for sure with Justin, not that she cared what he thought. But she had to admit running with Creed felt good. He made her laugh. Not much in her life offered that. She lowered her shoulders, resuming her pace.

An image of Mrs. Murdoch surfaced. What gossip would she concoct if she thought Bren was friends with Creed? Bren imagined the coach saying, Thank God we didn’t let that white trash ruin the reputation of our cheerleading squad!

Yeah, Bren could hear it all, and it wasn’t pretty. She didn’t care how far racial acceptance had come; it hadn’t come that far in Silverton. She heard the slurs, not out in public anymore, but certainly in private.

Bren arrived at school early. She held her head a little higher than normal, determined to stand her ground with Mrs. Murdoch. No one was going to intimidate Bren into giving up a position she had worked so hard to win. She was a senior, and a position on the team would give her a chance to show the faculty and staff she was worth supporting. More than anything, it might get her on a college cheerleading squad and earn her a scholarship. She knew going to college and leaving this town was more than a dream; it was the way to change her life.

Standing at her locker, collecting books for first and second period, she winced as she overheard two girls talking.

Stephanie’s going to be on the squad.

How? She didn’t even place during try-outs.

Well, you don’t have to place if your dad’s putting up big bucks for a new football stadium.

"Who gets bumped?

Rumor has it that Bren Parrot’s out.

Why? She had the best routine out there.

Money talks and crap walks. Need I say more?

I’d say I’m glad I’m not Bren.

Both girls started laughing.

Bren took a deep breath and slammed the locker shut. Walking over to a nearby bench, she sat down, letting her book bag slide to the floor. She stared at the dull green metal lockers. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she felt someone nudge her from behind.

Hey, Bren, are you excited or what?

It took a minute for the words to sink in and for her to recognize the voice piercing her consciousness. She stood up, grabbed her bag, and turned to face Kimmie Keech.

Guess today’s the day, Bren announced in a lilted squeal.

She had learned early on how to slip into false personas, concealing her true emotions. But even for a master role-changer, change wasn’t easy. Each time she used her phony performance, she felt bits and pieces of her real self being altered. She feared one day she might not be able to recover who she really was or who she was meant to be.

"Today isn’t just the day, it’s my day, Kimmie announced. When my name’s called, I’m going to stand up and shout!"

What if your name isn’t called? Bren asked.

Mrs. Murdoch talked to me after gym practice yesterday. I’m in!

Great! Bren felt her jaw clench. Somehow she was going to come out of this a winner; although, at the moment,