1st 5 Pages October Workshop- Rowley Rev 1

Name: Mary Rowley
Genre: Young Adult Mystery
Title: The Secrets That Divide Us

Chapter 1

It was rush hour in West Los Angeles, and belching car exhaust was conspiring with an end-of-summer heatwave to suffocate me. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the towering palms on Santa Monica Boulevard as I pedaled my Schwinn home from the library. On the up side, I was zipping past the six lanes of crawling traffic. On the down side, sweat plastered my shirt to my chest and soaked my bra. I raced across the Boulevard as the light was about to change.

“Get out of the way, kid!” yelled a guy in a beat up El Camino. 

“Sure thing!” I called back with mock cheerfulness, resisting the urge to flip him the bird. “But I’m not a kid—I’m sixteen.” I flashed him a grin, but he scowled back, gunned his engine, and drove away in a cloud of black smoke. The heat was making everyone cranky.

I had been hiding out in the cool refuge of the library all day. There were about a million reasons it had become my favorite haunt over the summer. First, unlike our tiny apartment, the library was air conditioned. Second, I was almost guaranteed not to run into anyone from Santa Monica High there. (News flash: Punching your gropey football player date on prom night does not boost your social life.) Third, I was avoiding the hella awkward situation at home with my dad and his new wife, Sonia. Okay, so that was only three reasons, but I had to go home eventually anyway. 

At our dishwater-toned stucco apartment building, I locked my bike to a pipe and trudged up the cement steps. As I reached our landing, I froze. The door to our apartment hung wide open. Our neighborhood hugged the 405 freeway and marked a borderland between the haves and the have-nots. It wasn’t Compton, but my dad was religious about keeping the door closed and locked. Arguing voices spilled out the entryway.

“You need to calm down,” demanded someone in a stern English accent.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” my dad shouted back. 

I edged closer—they were standing just inside the threshold. 

My dad, face red and forehead vein pulsing, jammed his index finger into an old man’s chest. “You can’t show up here after sixteen years, demand I give you my daughter, and tell me to ‘calm down.’” 

Okay, what was that? Give him his daughter?

Everything about the snowy-haired stranger screamed money and power, from his tailored trousers and dress shirt to a fat gold ring and a leather briefcase leaning against the doorframe. His suit jacket was folded over his arm, and although he glistened with sweat, his hair still showed tiny precise lines from a recent combing. The man’s appearance stood in sharp contrast to our dingy apartment’s chipped plaster walls. An urge ran through me to sneak inside and throw a sheet over the recliner we’d bought at Goodwill, hiding its ripped seat cushion.

The stranger must have heard my feet scuffing the walkway, because he whipped his head around and faced me. His lips curved into a smile. “This must be Elizabeth now.”

My dad’s face turned to stone.“Lizzie, you don’t need to be here for this conversation. You and Sonia should go get dinner.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Reaching the door, I saw Sonia perched on the threadbare couch, her face pinched. She rested a protective hand on her pregnant belly, but she made no move to leave.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Lizzie. Seriously.” Dad’s hands gripped his hips. “You should go.”

“Elizabeth, dear,” the old man said, “It is so good to see you. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady. And you look so much like your mother did at your age—except Philippa’s hair was longer.” He reached out as if to stroke my head, but I shied away like a boxer ducking a jab.

“Dad, are you gonna tell me who this is?” I ran my fingers through my shaggy blonde mane. I was light-years out of the loop and needed someone to fill me in.

“He’s nobody—” Dad said.

“I am your grandfather, Archer Cavendish,” the man said at the same time.

“Oh, really?” I said it like he’d just told me he was Santa Claus. “‘Cause my grandparents all died years ago.” I distinctly remembered a conversation with my dad when I was about six. He’d said that since my mom had died soon after I was born, he and I were on our own and we needed to be a team. That had worked just fine—until Dad met Sonia last year, got her pregnant, and married her, like, two seconds later. 

“If your father told you I was dead, he lied.” Archer turned back toward my dad, eyes narrowed and lips tight.

“Is that true, Dad? Is this my grandfather?” My dad stood ramrod straight with his fists balled tight next to his body. I’d never seen him this mad—he was generally pretty chill. Although he taught English literature, he had wavy surfer hair, and he often wore board shorts and flip-flops. But, right then, he looked anything but chill.
 
“Yes—technically—Archer is your grandfather,” he said. “Your mom was his daughter. But Archer lost any right to claim you as family years ago.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Your father is angry because of what happened with your sister after my sweet Philippa died.”
 
“Wait. Hold up. What? Did you say I had a sister?” No way. There had to be a mistake. I didn’t have a sister—even though I’d always wanted one. Dad would never have kept that from me.

“No, dear, you have a twin sister called Anne,” Archer said. “She lives with me in a lovely country house south of London. Now she’s terribly ill and needs your help, which is why I’ve come.”

I looked at my dad for confirmation. He was angry—obviously. There was something else, too, though. Fear? Guilt? It freaked me out.

“Dad? What’s going on? Please tell me. Do I really have a twin?”
 
Silence. 

Each crazy new idea piled on top of another. I had a twin sister. My grandfather was alive. My dad had hidden those facts from me my whole life. Why?

“He was going to tell you,” Sonia piped up. “He planned to explain everything when you turned eighteen.” 

I glared at her. Somehow, despite the heat and her pregnancy, Sonia still looked beautiful. As stepmoms go, she treated me okay—but right then I hated her.

“Why would you keep this from me, Dad? And how could you tell everything to her?” 
Ever since Sonia showed up, I’d been crowded out of my relationship with my dad.

 “Honey, I can explain everything.” Dad tried to placate me.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t explain this away. I can’t handle you right now!” Lava shot through my veins. I spun around, ready to bolt. 

“Wait, Elizabeth.” Archer caught my shoulder with a firm hand. I jerked away and eyed him warily. “Your sister needs you, and I must tell you about her before I leave. I’ve collected a lot of information here.” He bent to open his briefcase and handed me a thick manila folder. 

I took the folder, but stuffed it under my arm, unopened. “Fine. Go ahead.”