Disclaimer: my Westerly Academy is completely fictional. As for the historical background of some of the characters in this story, I used actual facts for the backbone, but the story of their ancestors is just as fictional as they are.

A/N: Here it is: my second story on Booksie! I’ve been working on this one for a very long time, and I’ve got all of the chapters mapped out already. I think there’s going to be at least three books in the Secrets of Andover series.

I LOVE reviews, and take each and every one into account. And if you review mine, I WILL review back!

The idea for this story originally came to me in a dream, and as soon as I woke up, I wrote it down and played with it for a while until it turned into something with a good plot. I did a lot of research, had some help from a few great friends, and it turned into this! A lot is written from experience—the relationship Holly has with the boys is similar to my own guy friends, and some of the more immature things the boys do are taken from my own friends… I hope you all enjoy! :D

Okay, finally, the end of my extensive Authors Note! Without further ado, here’s the story!

Prologue
I had never before been this close to danger. I could feel its bite in the air, taste its sharpness on my tongue, and sense its presence as I drew breath. Every step I took brought me closer. Half of me wanted to sprint ahead; the other half wanted to stay rooted to where I was standing forever. I was afraid, so scared that my bones rattled in their sockets. But I wasn’t scared for myself. No, I was scared for him.

Chapter One: Whirlwind

Everyone had their secrets; I knew that only too well. Lyla, Jackson, Parker, Seth, and even myself. In addition to the obvious ones, we all concealed our own secrets, too—some we would take with us to the grave, others would be discovered in time. They were secrets regarding our families, our pasts, our thoughts, and our feelings. Secrets that could change the future, and throw all of our lives out of balance. And there was one secret we all shared that had changed my life forever.

I rolled over in bed, moaning in pain, and tried to sit up. The room swam before my eyes, my head throbbing, and I flopped back onto the pillows just as soon as I had tried to get up. Light streamed through the window across the dorm room, blinding me, and causing pain to shoot through every part of my body. Cursing, I pulled the covers over my head to block out the sun.

I tried to recall what happened, but it didn’t make much sense. Just thinking about it made my head reel, so instead I remembered back to when I first arrived at Westerly Academy.

It was a bright sunny day; the air was ripe with the end of summer. I had spent all morning in the cab, driving from my family’s house in Boston to Westerly Academy on the outskirts of Andover, Massachusetts. Grateful for the end of the ride, I stepped out and stretched my arms, paid the driver, giving him a generous tip, and hauled my many bags onto the curb. I must have had at least ten. I had tried to pack light, but, seriously, when did that ever work?

Looking around me, I smiled. Westerly reminded me of an Ivy League college more than anything—the campus had probably been built around the same time. Huge, dark brick buildings stood tall, with arched ceilings and frosted glass windows, encircling bright green grounds.

On either side of me, students were approaching the school, bags in hand. I looked down at the piece of paper I had received in the mail, which instructed me to check in at the front office to get my room assignment. Not wanting to bother with my luggage, I left my bags on the curb and hurried into the front building.

“Are you new?” the little old woman behind the front desk asked sweetly as I approached her. I nodded.

“Yes. My name’s Holly Peyton,” I said, and received my room key.

“Okay, hon, it looks like you’re in Brooking dorm. You’re going to go back out the front doors, turn to your left, go across the quad, past the library, and turn left again,” said the secretary slowly, pointing the direction with her fingers. She saw my slightly puzzled expression. “There’s a sign, don’t worry,” she assured me.

I thanked her and went to go get my bags from the curb. The directions weren’t that complicated after all, and I took in my surroundings as I struggled over to Brooking. Just the look and feel of Westerly was so completely different from my previous school.

I had attended an all-girls private school in Boston all my life before this. My parents said it was “the best of the best”—McAvoy Preparatory School for Girls, “Educating girls to become fine women of society.” Yeah, right. It was more like “Educating girls to become fine bitches of society.”

I hated that school, and got myself into trouble quite a lot, for the sole reason that I despised it so much. If it weren’t for my parents’ well-known status, I would probably have been kicked out long ago. But nobody would dare get on the bad side of the rich-and-famous Peytons, not even the headmaster.

Last year, though, to my great delight, my parents announced that they would be traveling the world, doing who knows what, for who knows how long, and decided to send me off to boarding school for junior year. To Westerly, of course, the most prestigious school in New England, where all the other families were bound to be like them. I was happy enough to go, if only to escape the constant nagging of my parents. I was ready to take things into my own hands, thank you very much.

Finally, I found the large brick building marked “Brooking Dorm” and stepped inside. The interior had a shadowy feel; I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. The hallways were lit with dim lights hanging on the wall, almost resembling candles or lanterns. I hauled my bags up the stone stairwell, and made it up to the second floor, all in one piece.

A few girls and boys sat lounging around on leather couches in what looked like a common area, and I started dragging my bags down another hallway toward my room. Just then, a tall girl, blondest of the blondes, stepped out of a room to my right and saw me struggle with my bags.

“Who’re you?” she asked, slightly rudely, not at all offering to help. I wasn’t put off, though. I had been around girls like this my whole life.

“Holly Peyton,” I answered quickly, straightening up to my full height of 5”5’. I was taller than her.

“I’m Bryn,” she said, “Bryn DuBose.” She asked which room I was in. I gave her my number, and a strange look passed over her face—it was something between jealousy and pity.

“What?” I asked bluntly.

“Your roommate, Lyla Bishop, she’s a little—ah well, you’ll see for yourself,” said Bryn, clearly waiting for me to ask.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, let’s just say she thinks she’s really special. Better than the rest of us. Too good to hang out, too good to even have a roommate!” Bryn saw my puzzled expression, and laughed rather loudly. “This is the first time she’s got one. And she’s pretty pissed about it, too.” It was true that I applied to Westerly very late, which was probably why they placed me with this girl who was “too good” for a roommate. Bryn marched down the hall and I continued on to my room.

I paused outside the door for a second, listening. She was definitely in there. It was stupid to be nervous to meet this girl. I’d only heard about her from one person, who didn’t seem like such a reliable source. Subconsciously, I rubbed the tattoo on my lower back. A pair of wings, to set me free. Getting it had been a mistake, but it was too late for regrets now.

Without idling any more, I opened the door and dragged all ten of my bags into the little room. My roommate looked up from her desk and a giant bag of chips, and smiled a kind of half-smile.

“You’re Holly?” she asked not too excitedly, as I stood in front of her.

“Yeah,” I answered tensely. “And you’re Lyla?” I asked, without missing a beat. We stared at each other for a second, and then she smiled. Our little power-play was over.

“One and only,” she said, and turned her back on me and resumed devouring her chips. Something about Lyla was different, but I couldn’t sense what. I stole a glance at her. She was tall and thin, with long blonde hair-- nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it was her attitude. She definitely wasn’t as bitchy as Bryn had made her to be; I guessed Bryn was the bitch around here.

I began unpacking my bags, and moved them over to my bed. The room was almost symmetrical. Two low beds lined either wall, and we each had a dark mahogany desk and a matching closet and shelf. The only difference was that Lyla’s side of the room had another arched, frosted window, which didn’t offer much more light to the already dimly-lit room. Every building in this whole freaking school was dark! Not that I minded, though. It reminded me of a Harry Potter movie set. Maybe there would be torches in the main buildings; they’d fit right in, I thought sarcastically.

Lyla’s side of the room looked pretty lived-in; I guessed she had been here for a while already. It looked like she didn’t want to talk, though, and I didn’t want to bother her, not on my first day, at least, so I set to the task of unpacking every bag.

A little while later, Lyla’s phone rang. She picked it up, exclaiming “Parker!” a little too loudly to be genuine.

I could only hear her side of the conversation, but I listened anyway.

“Hey, no, I haven’t seen him. He’s okay, right?” There was a pause. “Good. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m a bit tired, too, but not that bad.” Another pause. “Sure, where?” Pause. “What about…her?” Another pause. “What did Seth and Jackson say?” Another pause. “Are you sure? Okay, see you then.” And she hung up.

I was about to ask about the phone call when she turned around in her chair. “Holly, you’re not doing anything tonight, right?”

I laughed. “I’ve only been here an hour… no, I don’t have plans.”

“Good,” said Lyla, checking her phone again. “I’m going out to dinner with some friends, in about an hour. You should come.”

Hearing that, I sped up the process of unpacking, and eventually I finished, all my belongings in the mahogany drawers, my uniforms hung up neatly in the closet, and suitcases piled on top of it. I moved over to the single arched window and stared outside. I couldn’t really see through the opaque glass, but I could tell it was getting dark, and my distorted reflection stared back at me, with the same brown hair, dark eyes, and curious smile. I watched the sun begin to dip below the horizon, and Lyla checked her watch.

“We should go,” she murmured, and led me out of the building. I remembered reading in the school’s information package that students were allowed off campus, but we weren’t allowed cars, so I had no idea how we were going to get anywhere.

“How are we getting there?” I asked Lyla, once we neared the front driveway.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she laughed, and we walked side by side down the road, and two more blocks to a parking garage. “I keep my car here,” she said, chuckling. “I’m surprised nobody else’s figured this out yet.”

We climbed into her bright blue Audi SUV, and sped along the road toward the restaurant. “Alright, so let me tell you about the guys,” Lyla said, her eyes on the road. “They’re all players, all three of ‘em, so don’t be surprised…”

I snickered. “And they know it, too, right?”

“Naturally. They’re sort of notorious here…” she raised her voice to a mocking tone. “Jackson Stonewell, Parker Murray, and Seth Price. You’d think they were gods or something.”

I nodded, smirking, and we pulled into the parking lot of a small bar. Music was booming from inside and Lyla and I hurried in, past the pool tables and dance floor, and she led me over to a small table. Seth, Jackson, and Parker were lounging at the table, just as Lyla described them.

“Hey guys,” said Lyla, her demeanor changing a little, and her eyes darting between all three of them, almost as if she were gauging their reactions. “This is Holly.”

Then she turned to me. “And that’s Parker,” Lyla said, pointing out the one in the middle—blond, with untidy hair, one earring, and a beat-up leather jacket. He looked like he belonged in this place more than any of the others did.

“That’s Seth,” she said, pointing to the boy next to him—dark, with shorter dark hair and an easygoing smile, wearing a tight-fitting black sweater.

“And that’s Jackson.” Lyla pointed to the last boy, with messy brown hair—lighter than mine, and a playful expression gracing his face. I had to admit, all three of them were pretty good-looking. I could see why they were the school players.

Lyla pulled out a chair for me and sat down eagerly. I could tell she felt more comfortable here with all her friends than she did up in the dorm.

“Hey, babe,” Parker said, leaning across the table after I sat down. “Where you from?” He flashed a small smile.

“Don’t even think about it, Parker!” said Lyla, monitoring him, and we all laughed.

“Boston,” I said, answering his question as if I hadn’t realized what he had really been getting at, and we all launched into conversation. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as I had expected. The boys let me in on their jokes, and I felt much better than I had in ages. Parker never apologized for his greeting, but I could tell that acting like he did was just part of his nature. Seth was a bit quieter, but still had a great sense of humor. And Jackson—Lyla said he was the most notorious out of the three boys for his…conquests, and I believed it. His smile was contagious, complete with dimples and a rolling laugh.

We talked and joked until the food came—I gathered that the four of them had been at Westerly for a couple days so far, and they all wanted to know about my previous experiences at McAvoy, laughing at how many times I had gotten into trouble.

I could feel Jackson’s warm gaze on me, but whenever I glancing over at him, he was looking somewhere else, with his brow furrowed in thought. He looked nowhere near as happy and mischievous as he had earlier.

“Lyla, you want a drink?” asked Seth smoothly as he was getting up, and Parker immediately stood up as well. This seemed to make Lyla laugh, but I could sense that there was something else going on. I would have to watch them closely if I would figure it out. The three boys got up, and suddenly Lyla and I were sitting alone, which did not sit with me very well.

“Where’d they go?” I asked, slightly annoyed that they had left us at the table.

“Probably going to go play pool or something.” said Lyla, shrugging. I moved to get up. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“To go play with them!” I sauntered over to the other side of the restaurant. I wasn’t about to sit around and wait for their game to be over.

“Now this I gotta see!” murmured Lyla from behind me.

“Hey, watcha doing?” I asked, sauntering around the pool table to where the three guys were standing. At the same time, Jackson whistled, and I looked over to where the three of them were looking. At a nearby table stood a girl not much older than myself; her chest literally spilling out of her shirt.

“What do you say?” asked Parker, putting down a ten-dollar bill. “I say she’s a C!” His eyes roamed over the girl as if she were a piece of meat.

Jackson slapped down another ten-dollar bill, that playful look back on his face. “I say D!”

Seth slapped down a twenty-dollar bill, and said confidently, “Double-D,” which made Jackson burst out into laughter. His laugh was infectious, and soon all of us were laughing.

“You guys can’t be serious…” I started, but Seth just looked at me and shook his head.

“Jackson, it’s your turn…” said Parker in a low voice. “Go get ‘er!” and he slapped Jackson on the shoulder. I felt a slight pang as I saw him walk up to the girl, give her that seductive smile, murmur something in her ear, and then the two of them disappeared.

“Give him twenty minutes, he’ll be back,” said Seth reassuringly, noticing my expression.

“Come on,” I said gruffly, grabbing a pool cue, and dismissing all the rogue thoughts from my head. “Let’s play.”

A/N: So, how’d you like it? I want to know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome! If you have any questions or comments, I’d love to hear them! What do you think of the characters so far? And I tried to make Holly a different kind of main character from my last story, she’s definitely more driven and I think she’s got a better head on her shoulders, even though she doesn’t always show it. This story’s going to get pretty dark later on, so I thought it was important to start it on a light note, to keep some of that lightness in for later on.. did that work? Sorry, I’m rambling again.. I could talk about this story for hours! Anyway, I have every single chapter mapped out, and I know exactly where it’s going, so hopefully the next few chapters will be up soon! In the meantime, review, review, review, and I will consider each one, and review yours back! Thanks a million!