Prep Boy Secrets

Chapter One

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P R O L O G U E

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I'm not a hero.

I'm the farthest thing from it.

I'm the bad guy now ... but no one can ever know.

This secret is mine to keep, even though secrets never stay hidden forever.

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C H A P T E R O N E

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I poured another glass of scotch for myself to drink. At this point, I should've just drank straight from the bottle since I was going through alcohol these days like it was water.

I always stopped myself when I got to the point where pouring a glass was almost impossible to do without spilling. And I could not spill and risk my parents seeing a stain on any of their imported European rugs.

My parents were adamant on pretending that everything was normal ... no beyond normal, perfect. But everything going on with me, my high school, my friends ... was anything but perfect.

I looked at the clock, my parents would be home any minute. Shit, I thought to myself. I wished that I didn't lose track of time when I got drunk like this.

"Kyle! I'm home, did you want to go to 71st Grill tonight for dinner?" my mom said as she walked into our penthouse apartment.

I poured the scotch down the sink and put the bottle back into the cupboard right before she rounded the corner into the kitchen. I pulled some gum from my pocket and popped it into my mouth just in time.

"How was your day at work?" I asked her. I planted my body behind the counter and did my best to stay still.

"The usual dear. Very long, and very stressful. Your father will be meeting us at the grill in forty-five-ish minutes, he had another meeting with your lawyer today," my mom said as she browsed through today's mail.

My mom worked at a public relations agency near Times Square. Well she owned it, but she believed in hands-on operations rather than sitting back and letting the company run itself.

Surprisingly, se picked up our mail herself, instead of letting the help do it. She was very cautious nowadays to keep any and all communication top secret, mainly because the press was watching our every move. Pushing back a whisp of brown hair, she sorted the mail into little piles. There were five of them: one for me (Kyle Parker), one for Mom (Kristina Parker), one for Dad (David Parker), and another one for Mom if the mail was from my lawyer (Chris Brentwood).

Chris. The man I loved to hate. My parents kept all contact between him and I to a minimum, except for the times he must to talk to me in order to keep me looking innocent in "the case".

"So what was dad meeting Chris for?" I asked Mom, trying not to slur on the word "so" and failing miserably.

She looked up at me with a quizzical look. Her eyes ran over me, I couldn't tell if she knew how intoxicated I was.

"They're looking for another solid alibi. Look, just let your father and I handle this. You know you're innocent, I know you're innocent. It's Chris' job to make the whole world think your innocent by the end of this. Can you please get ready now?" she hissed back at me. Her eyes stayed on the little mail piles, telling me that either: a) she didn't notice that I was four drinks deep or b) she did know and was too tired to get into another argument about it. Either was fine with me...