Anchorage

Lunch at school usually began with a smoke break for Toni. We would climb over the green fence and fall into the little section behind the school that was fenced off from the rest of the grounds. It was a little box, only about six feet between the wall and the fence in front of it, but the fence didn't allow anyone to see into the area, so it was essentially a safe haven for Toni and I.

I didn't smoke on a regular basis, because I thought it was a bad habit and honestly couldn't find anything enjoyable about it; besides, I was only fifteen and I certainly didn't want to be a nicotine addict at such a young age (or ever).

Toni, however, somehow managed to get seniors to buy her cigarettes and she was a bit of a smoking fiend. I used to bother her with my incessant warnings about how smoking would give her cancer and each cigarette she smoked was taking a portion of her life; I eventually stopped saying anything about it, though, because I knew my advice was falling on deaf ears.

That morning was a special occasion, because I was nervous and anxious about what my father was going to say to me when I got home after school. When I said that I didn't smoke on a regular basis, I meant that I only smoked to calm my nerves, and the cigarettes were incredibly effective. Toni was reluctant to let me bum a cigarette off of her, but she gave in eventually and we smoked together behind the school, confident that we wouldn't get caught, as we never did.

"What do you think my parents are keeping from me?" I asked Toni as I took a drag from my cigarette and the both of us leaned up against the brick wall of the school's main building.

"Could be anything, really," Toni replied with a shrug, stamping out her first cigarette and quickly fishing another one from her jacket pocket to light it up, "Maybe you're adopted."

"Come on, Toni," I gave her a narrow-eyed stare, before taking another puff from my smoke, "You know I look exactly like my parents. It wouldn't make sense if I was adopted." Toni didn't offer another suggestion instantly, instead taking the time to take a few drags from her cigarette.

"I've got it," she suddenly said, her eyes lighting up like a conspirator, "They've set up an arranged marriage for you and they're shipping you off to London to live with your future husband's family." I squinted my eyes at her even more, knowing that she wasn't taking this seriously as I inspected the almost-grin on her face. When she finally let out a small giggle, I couldn't do anything but sigh and look forward at the green fence.

"What if it's something big?" I wondered, finishing off my cigarette and squishing it on the ground with the sole of my foot, "What if someone died?"

"Linnie, your parents aren't the kind of folks who would sugarcoat anything like that," Toni pointed out, glancing sideways at me, "Chances are, it's probably something that could tarnish their perfect reputations." As much as I wanted Toni to be wrong, I knew she was most likely correct. My parents could be brutal with the truth, unless they could potentially be caught in the misfire of the consequences.

Once Toni's cigarette burned out, I fetched my lunch - seafood fettucine alfredo, made by our four-star chef - from my backpack, along with two forks for Toni and I to share. She never brought anything for lunch, because she always knew that my family's chef made me way too much food for lunch. Toni always got a free meal out of it and I was always more than willing to share.

The rest of the school day couldn't have passed by at a slower pace. Every minute was agony, every second a reminder that once I was out of this prison, I would still have the walk home left, during which my mind would rip at me and tear me apart until I was bleeding and dying to know why my parents were being so secretive.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of last period, I couldn't get away fast enough. I shoved my books and paper into my backpack crudely, pushed my way past the other students who seemed determined to keep me in the building for as long as possible, and sprinted down the hallway toward the front doors of the school. I heard someone faintly shout my name, so I reluctantly turned around to see who was so rudely keeping me from my destination.

It was Macy Leeds, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her pretty, little face. I had no choice but to wait for her to catch up to me, a stack of papers in one of her arms and her pink kitten heels click-clacking on the linoleum floor.

"Wow, you sure do run fast!" she giggled, mostly to herself as I tried to work up a good-hearted smile for her, "Got a hot date or something?"

"I'm just kind of in a rush to get home," I explained, trying to get out of the conversation before it really even started, "So if we could kind of speed this up, that would be great." A mildly offended expression crossed Macy's features, but she quickly covered it up with another smile that was all pristine, white teeth and cherry chapstick.

"No problem, I understand," she told me with a tiny nod, "Why don't I give you a ride home? That way, we can talk and I won't keep you from your engagements." In my eyes, this was not a compromise at all. More than likely, Macy wanted to talk to me about some sort of school or church event that I would end up not participating in. But she was staring at me with those big, blue eyes of hers, her long, ebony eyelashes batting every few seconds in a Bambi sort of way. It was nearly impossible for me to say no to her, especially when she had been nothing but nice to me.

"Um, sure," I sighed, giving her my best attempt at a grateful smile, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she assured me, and I knew that I certainly wouldn't. Macy began to lead the way, always walking with a purpose, even if she didn't particularly have one. I stayed in stride with her, receiving looks from other students outside of the school, because Macy and I had never once hung out together before. She was adored; I was well-known, but not well-liked.

"Here, take one of these," Macy commanded, handing me one of the sheets of paper that she held in her arm, as we crossed the street to the school parking lot where her car was. I took the paper from her, scrutinizing the words across the page with one of my eyebrows raised. It was a flyer advertising auditions for the Christmas play that the church put on every year on Christmas Eve. I didn't even realize that it was that time already, but that was probably because I never paid attention in church. We had one main church in our town and it seemed like the entire town population attended it. It was an old building, with ancient values and boring sermons. I usually made excuses to step out.

"I'm going to be the angel that tells the shepherds about Christ," Macy declared brightly as we reached her baby blue, 1988 Ford Mustang and she unlocked the doors for us, "I mean, that's the part that I'm trying out for, anyway. I really hope that I get it." She only said the last sentence so that she would appear modest and humble. Every year, Macy was cast in the church's Christmas play; even as an infant, she played Baby Jesus. No one could say no to Macy Leeds.

Once we were both in the car and Macy had started the engine, I handed the flyer back to her and she replied with a thoroughly confused look, as though it was unheard of that someone wouldn't want to be in the church's Christmas production.

"This...really isn't my thing," I told Macy, who was resolute in not taking back the piece of paper.

"God isn't your...thing?" she asked me, looking almost frightened that I would spew such blasphemy inside of her vehicle.

"No!" I quickly thought of a way to redeem myself (though it was true that I wasn't exactly the best example of a Christian), "I just mean that I'm not much into theatrics. I really can't act. At all."

"Oh," the cute smile returned to Macy's mouth, "Well, keep it anyway. In case you change your mind. Now, buckle up for safety." As much as I knew that I wouldn't change my mind, I placed the paper on my lap and pulled my seat belt across my chest, clicking it into place. Once Macy was satisfied that my safety was not in jeopardy, she pulled out of the parking lot and began driving towards my house. Of course, Macy already knew where I lived. Everyone did. And I hated that.

We didn't speak much, but luckily I only lived about a mile and a half away from the school so we weren't forced to partake in each other's company for much longer. The radio hummed low, playing some sort of soft rock that I couldn't make out. Even while she drove, Macy had this expression on her face like she was just happy to be alive.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we pulled up in front of my large, white house and I nearly jumped out of the car, taking care that I didn't look too eager to be leaving Macy. After I had closed the door behind me, Macy rolled down the window and I looked into the car.

"Well, thanks for the ride," I told her.

"Think about the play, will you?" Macy pleaded, giving me an angelic stare.

"Yeah, okay," I replied absent-mindedly, trying to get away as quickly as I could.

"I'll see you around, Linnie," she said to me, before I leaned away from the car and she drove away down the street. It felt like her face was permanently branded on the inside of my brain.

That was why she was on my list of people to avoid at all costs.

My run-in with Macy had momentarily caused me to forget about the reason that I had been trying to rush home in the first place. She had managed to distract me from my original purpose (but I supposed that she did that often). I marched resolutely across our emerald lawn and onto our front porch, quickly letting myself in through the oak double doors.

The house was eerily silent when I closed the doors behind me and slipped off my combat boots. My family's home was normally pretty quiet, given that only three people lived in it and it was giant. This was different, though; I couldn't even hear Candace - our cook - humming along to the radio in the kitchen. I knew that if my parents were home, there was only one place that they would be, and they would be patiently waiting for me to walk in.

As I entered the living room, swinging my bag off of my shoulders and holding it in one of my hands, I found that my hunch had been correct. Both of my parents were sitting in the high-backed chairs near the unlit fire, my mother's hand folded politely together on her beige slacks and my father leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his fingers linked in front of him. When they heard my light footsteps make the transition from the hardwood floor to the carpet, both of them looked calmly up at me, strained smiles stretching the skin on their faces. The minute that my eyes lighted on the issue of UsWeekly folded neatly on the arm of my mom's chair, I knew that they had been awaiting my homecoming.

"Is everything alright?" I turned my head to the side slightly, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at the two adults who had raised me. They both exchanged uncomfortable glances with each other, before looking back up at me.

"Belinda, there's...something your father and I have to tell you," my mother led with, clearing her throat before continuing, "Something that we probably should have told you a long time ago."

"To be fair, I wanted to tell you a long time ago," my father pointed out, trying to appear the non-guilty party, "but your mother -"

"Not the point, Alex," my mom cut him off, speaking through gritted teeth and her hands tightening their hold for a moment.

"No, you're right," my father sighed, looking down at the ground before offering me a friendly smile, "Linnie...maybe you should sit down."

"I think I'd prefer to stand," I replied, letting my backpack fall to the floor finally as I waited impatiently for an explanation to this madness that my mother and father were falling victims to.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" my mother, ever the nurturer, wanted to know, "You may want to sit down, once the shock sets in." I raised my eyebrows and gave the two before me a disbelieving stare.

"Oh, god. I'm adopted," I stated, watching as my parents began to laugh amongst themselves.

"Don't be ridiculous, Linnie," my dad shook his head at me, a smile still held on his features, "You're not adopted."

"Well, then what's wrong?" I demanded to know, groaning in frustration, "The two of you have been acting strange lately and every time I bring it up, you manage to skirt around the topic completely. I want an explanation. Now."

"Don't take that tone with us, young lady," my mother managed to reprimand me, "We're still your parents. Even if we haven't made the best decisions, per se."

"What does that even mean?" I asked them, my brow furrowing, "I just want to know what's going on. That's all. Give me at least that." I watched as both of my parents shifted their weight uncomfortably, exchanging looks once again. Eventually, my father cleared his throat, as though he was going to begin a story for me.

"Before I tell you what I have to tell you," my father's eyes bore into mine, a pleading look in his face, "I want you to remember that I'm only human, and just like every other human, I make mistakes." He didn't have to tell me twice about that; I couldn't count the number of times that my parents had screwed up during my lifetime, even if they had done their best to hide the truth of matters from me. I sighed lightly, watching him expectantly and waiting for him to reveal the secret to me that my parents had been keeping for god-knows-how-long. He looked to my mother, who gave him an encouraging smile that urged him to go on.

"Now, as you know, your mother and I have been together since high school, but we didn't get married until our early twenties, after we had finished college. When we were first married, we were just beginning our adult lives, me as a brand new manager and she as a new member of the city council. We were apart a great deal during the first portion of our marriage, what with your mother planning events for the city and me constantly having to take business trips."

"During one of my trips to New York, I met a woman," my father's face fell slightly, as though he could already sense that I was going to be disappointed in him; in truth, the moment that he mentioned a woman, my mind traveled down a dark path and I hoped against all hope that the story didn't turn in that direction.

"Her name was Catie," he went on, and my mind immediately registered the name Catie as one of the people whom my father had mentioned the night prior, "It...began as a harmless friendship. We had coffee every time I was in the area. But...things eventually grew more serious and...well, I assume that you can deduct what happened."

"Your father had an affair," my mother blurted out, rather bluntly, receiving a hurtful look from my father in return, "He cheated, it ended." I stared, wide-eyed, at my parents, both of whom acted as though this was a perfectly regular thing to happen.

"Dad, how could you?" I wanted to know, slightly hurt that he would betray our family in such a way (though to be fair, I hadn't yet been born when the affair occurred). He looked ashamed, not daring to look me in the eye; eventually, I turned to mother, just as outraged at her as I was with my father.

"And how could you be okay with this?" I practically shrieked, watching as she flinched away from my harsh tone, "He betrayed your trust. How could you forgive something like that?"

"We all have our flaws, Belinda," my mother sternly told me, plucking up the courage to face the child whom she had lied to since the beginning, "I've made mistakes, just like your father has. We forgive each other, we move on. That's what family does." I shook my head at her, not believing the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"Family doesn't lie to each other, either!" I shouted at the two of them, "But you both seem to be perfectly content with lying to your only child."

"That's actually what we wanted to talk to you about," my father commandeered the conversation, looking uncomfortable once again and running a hand through his dark hair, "Something happened...with Catie. There was...a pregnancy."

"No," I shook my head, not wanting to hear what my father was saying, "No."

"We did everything to double-check. We ran a paternity test, I made sure that Catie hadn't been with anyone else during that time. But everything checked out."

"No. No, no, no, no. Impossible."

"She had a son," my dad stated, ignoring my protests entirely, "My son. Your half-brother."

"No," I told him resolutely, not able to form any other word besides 'no'. My father seemed to be on a roll, though, because he just kept rattling off more world-rearranging news.

"Recently, Catie had a breakdown, as a result of stress. Probably from her job - she works in the fashion industry," he continued, giving me tidbits of his mistress's life as though I gave a shit about any of it, "She's taking some time for herself, so while she does that...Chase is going to come and live with us."

"When?" I felt the word appear on my lips before I even realized it; my mind was numb and I stared blankly ahead, just wanting an answer while simultaneously wishing that I could erase all of the secrets that I had discovered.

"Two days."

I barely inclined my head, indicating a nod. Silently, I picked my bag up off of the floor and carried it upstairs and into my room. My parents didn't attempt to stop me from leaving, nor did they hurry after me and try to talk to me some more. We all knew that the conversation was over. The truth was out and there was nothing that I could do about it.

I didn't bother turning the light in my room on when I shut the door behind me. The dark was better, in case I ended up crying.

The only thing that still hung in my mind as I lay awake on top of my bed covers was whether or not Chase had known about me for his whole life.

A few tears escaped my eyes, as I realized that he probably had.