Page 1 of The Secret We Keep
Prologue
Morgan
Saturday15thAugust2014
Hip, hip hooray!
Today is Holly’s big day!
We are going to be friends forever.
Morgan, age 10
Our feet hit the ground as soon as everyone finishes singing.
My friend, Fi, swipes her backpack off the table. “Let’s go!”
While we still have to wait for Holly’s mum to cut the cake, time is running out.
Me and Holly hurriedly follow Fi outside. The sun shines brightly, the grass smells fresh, and unopened sweets still litter the ground from the pinata we smashed.
My heart is thrumming by the time we reach the end of Holly’s garden.
She swings open the wooden gate which leads to the river, and the wild ponies whinny and look up at us, startled, their hooves thumping the ground.
“How much further do you think? I want to get back to my party,” Holly whines.
I catch Fi smile mischievously. “I saw him walking past your window. He can’t have got far.”
My heart ticks faster, knowing who we’re following.
We make it across the lazy river using the logs Holly’s parents placed there so that we could get out onto the plains safely.
“There,” Fi bellows, pointing past me.
My eyes follow my friend’s to the largest oak tree known to Stoney Grange, the one with four teenage boys sitting underneath it.
“There he is. Mum and Dad are going to be so pissed this time.” She says it so sternly, but there’s also excitement in her voice.
Hanging out with my best friends consists of doing one of two things: playing out in the forest, making up our own fun, or spying on Fiona’s older brother.
Paddy.
I like doing both.
“What are they doing?” Holly and I both try to get a better look as thick, white plumes of smoke hit the warm air. “Smoking,” I say surprised, answering my own question. I tuck a lock of my curls behind my ear, excited eyes landing onhim.
He’s leaning against the wood like he owns the entire forest. Wearing his signature sports jacket, he looks a little stupid with it on in this heat. And yet, for some reason, I want to move closer to the boy who clearly has a new attitude.
When a beam of sunlight dances against his hair like it has a crush on him too, our secret mission switches tomymission of trying not to explode when looking at him.
“Yeah. Butwhat? Dad told Paddy that if he gets caught smoking pot again, he’s out of the house for good,” Fi tells us firmly.
I look at her. “Shouldn’t we leave him alone then?” I don’t want the person who’s always looking out for us getting into trouble.
Fi gives me a roll of her petulant blue eyes. “I’m not going to miss the perfect opportunity to get leverage on Paddy, even if one of my best friendsiscrushing on him.”
“Am not,” I protest, cheeks heating. I hope she can’t see.
