Damaged: A Violated Trust (Secrets) Read Online Free PDF

inventory of my baggy Lee jeans and sports T-shirt. If I stuffed my long dark hair under a ball cap, I might be able to pass for a guy. To be fair, I don’t always dress like this. I used to try to compensate for Mom’s fashion phobia by adapting clothes into funkier designs and/or shopping at secondhand shops with my babysitting money.
    Occasionally I’d come up with something good and sneak out of the house wearing it, but if I got caught, my remodeled clothes were confiscated and a huge fight would ensue. So most of the time I just told myself that clothes didn’t really matter and that things like art and music and getting good grades were more important. Now I wonder.
    “These jeans would look great on your long legs.” She holds up the latest style in jeans — the kind my mom would have a cow over. Maybe I’m just weak or maybe I want to thumb my nose in Mom’s face, but I take the jeans from Estelle, and after several tries and size changes, I decide on a pair. And I have to admit, they look awesome.
    I’m not sure if it’s the jeans or Estelle’s influence, but it feels like something in me was triggered when I put them on, and so, like a fashion junkie, I let Estelle take me to more stores — picking up more clothes and shoes and even makeup. After a couple of hours and burdened down with bags and a credit card that should’ve melted by now, we go to find Dad.
    “How’d it go?” he asks with a slightly worried expression.
    “I think you’ve created a monster.” I hold up fistfuls of shiny shopping bags and grin. “Hope you’re good with that.”
    He looks doubtful. “This won’t be a regular thing, will it?”
    “I hope not,” I admit. “But you guys were probably right; my wardrobe was pretty pathetic. Thanks!”

...[CHAPTER 4].................
     
    M y first day at my new school was unremarkable. Well, except for meeting a certain guy I cannot get out of my head.
    It all started when Estelle’s “baby brother,” Buck Anderson, took it upon himself to become my personal guide today, although for clarification’s sake, Buck is not the guy who’s stuck in my head. He was merely the connection. For some reason, which I’m sure is named Estelle Anderson, Buck decided to become my new best friend. It was a little awkward at first — me hanging with a guy who resembles a Mack truck — but I suppose I appreciated it on some level.
    Even so, the jock and cheerleader crowd has never been my cup of tea, and that is the table I sat with at lunchtime. But I was polite, and I was also myself. I let it be known I was more into art and music than sports. I figured those kids could take it or leave it. Because there’s no way, even if I’m dressed like them, that I’ll conform to fit into their world. I suspect by tomorrow they won’t even remember my name.
    Although I have to admit that I did enjoy the banter and liveliness of this group, and I was probably a bit envious of friendships that seemed fairly sturdy. But the part that sticks with me was this one particular guy. As soon as he joined the group, I could barely take my eyes off him. Not that he noticed me. But I can say, as an artist, that Harris Stephens is the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. With dark curly hair, which seems a tad long for a sports jock (he’s a quarterback), and dreamy dark blue eyes and a straight nose and serious lips and a slender but great physique (muscles seem to be the one thing athletic kids have over most art and music geeks), what girl wouldn’t drool a bit?
    Naturally, Harris already has a girlfriend. Not that I had any psychotic delusions that I’d ever have a chance with a guy like that. But I suppose a girl can dream. However, it’s a bit dismaying that his girlfriend is such a cliché. I hate thinking that, too, especially since I was so determined not to be judgmental. But his girlfriend, Emery Morrison, is a bouncy, effervescent strawberry-blonde cheerleader, and from what I can