Silent Deceptions

Dirty Little Secret: by Isabelle Winchester1

Note: All passages are based on personal experience, as well as other first-hand accounts. Everything in here is accurate, and non-fictitious.2

Chapter 1: Things Fall Apart3

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO4

“First one to the beach gets more ice cream!” yelled Johnny Calhoun, my best friend at the time. He grinned at me, his hazel eyes gleaming in the multi-colored sunset. He stuck his tongue out at me, in that cute childish way he always did before we would race.5

Ice cream, wow! I thought, excitement filling me as if ice cream were my life’s dream. I hoped it would be sea salt ice cream. That was my favorite.6

“Okay!” I shouted back to him, and we both happily sprang forward, running as fast as we could down the large sandy hill that led to the shore of the island. 7

Johnny and I both lived on Sanctuary Islands, which were a small group of islands that were only half a mile off the coast of Florida, connected by only five small bridges to each other, and one long bridge to the mainland. This small isle was our favorite one, the one with the big hill with the shopping center at the top and a beautiful beach at the bottom. 8

The sunsets were really beautiful on this isle, as it faced west at the beach, and we always came around the time when the sun set while our moms went shopping together.9

“Ha-ha!” Johnny said triumphantly, stopping, his large stupid grin once again on his face. “I win!”10

I was only a few steps behind, as I usually was. Sandals were so hard to run in. I always had a mound full of sand by the time I reached the foot of the hill.11

“No fair!” I pouted, and made a face at him, which he made back. But I wasn’t mad at him. I never get mad at Johnny. Even now.12

We walked down the shore, near the large docks, where there was a small stand owned by small man. Sarunto’s Sea Salt Ice Cream.13

The owner, Mr. Sarunto, was an elderly man of about seventy, who adored us, like most of the people on the islands. He was giving us free ice cream, as he usually did. 14

“I beat Izabelle at racing, can I have more ice cream?” asked Johnny, in that cute way that five-year-olds ask. He even turned on the adorable little-kid look.15

“Why, certainly,” said Mr. Sarunto, and packed one more scoop on the ice cream cone. He gave it to Johnny and then began to make mine, and Johnny walked away with it. I saw Mr. Sarunto put another scoop on mine, too.16

He handed it to me, and I took it, looking up at him in confusion. “I gave you a little extra, too. But don’t tell Johnny, now, okay?”17

He smiled and so did I. I nodded, and turned away. “Thanks, Mr. Sarunto!” I called as me and Johnny walked toward the shore.18

We walked along the shore in silence, then, eating our ice cream. I remember thinking about the ocean, and whether or not it could live. I remember hearing about how it swallowed people, like how Tommy Flemmings, the surfer was swallowed by the ocean. I wondered if the ocean ate people, really ate them.19

Yeah, I was quite the thinker. I always wondered stuff, and had this crazy imagination. Of course, with me it’s not always a good thing. I tend to take things literally, all the time. Like the ocean for instance. I think that’s how all writers start, just spacing out and thinking. 20

Anyway, we were headed toward the dock—that is under the dock, in the shade—where our favorite hangout spot was. We could see the ocean, the sunset, and also be able to eat the ice cream without it melting. It was nice there.21

There was usually a comfortable serenity between the two of us. We could sit by each other for hours without having said a word and it would be nice. Even when we talked, in moments like these, it would be only a few words, and the replies would be spaced out.22

“Izzy?” asked Johnny, without looking at me. He went back to eating his ice cream, as did I.23

“Yeah?” I asked back after a pause. That’s me. Ever since I can remember, I liked answering questions with another question.24

“Let’s be best friends forever, okay?” he said.25

“Yeah,” I smiled, “I promise.”26

“Me too. I promise.” Johnny said. He finished his ice cream, as I could already hear him crunching the cone.27

I wondered, What else would happen in life? I mean, we had been best friends for forever already it felt like, all our lives, and what would ever change that?28

We stayed out and watched the sunset, like we usually did. I lay down on the sand after I finished my ice cream as the sunset. 29

“Johnny, can I go over to your house today?” I asked him, already knowing what he’d say.30

“Sure,” he said, laying back himself, putting his arms behind his head as a sort of pillow, which I only ended up imitating.31

We stared at the sunset, watching it. Sunsets were pretty quick on the island. You could follow the sun going down with your eyes. Though I wouldn’t recommend it, what with getting blind and all.32

“Johnny! Izabelle!” called Johnny’s mom. I was so used to it, I recognized her voice automatically. She was like my second mom.33

We got up, brushed the sand off ourselves, and ran up the hill to where Mrs. Calhoun was. 34

She had out her shopping bags, but my mom wasn’t there. Oh, well, I figured she had somewhere else to go. She sometimes went by herself to some places.35

I have no dad, because he was out fighting in the war, and so whenever my mom used to go shopping by herself, Mrs. Calhoun’d take Johnny home with his dad and stay at my place until Mom came home.36

Which was what we had done. The bridge that lead directly to the small little port that the Calhoun’s and my family lived at called Cordell was closed off, for some reason. I saw flashing lights everywhere, but that was normal. So we took the long way home, Mrs. Calhoun stopping at a small gas station where Johnny and I would buy candy and junk food while Mrs. Calhoun would buy gas. 37

She dropped Johnny off at their house where his dad picked him up and took him inside the house. That was the last time I’d see him for a very long time. 38

The lights were off when we got in (Mrs. Calhoun had a spare key) and I just went to my room and fell asleep, just tired. Hey, when you’re five, you get tired from a 10-hour day.39

Anyway, the rest of this gets a little blurry. I remember the cops coming over and questioning me, at around three or four in the morning. I don’t really remember what they asked me, just that Mrs. Calhoun was still there, and was looking really sad, and that the cops were asking me about my mom.40

I only heard a little bit, but later Mrs. Calhoun told me that my mom had gotten a letter from the Air Force saying that my father had died when his F-22 Raptor had been struck by a stray friendly missile, and that my mother had drove herself off that bridge. They only found her car, but her body was said to have been taken by the ocean. It was sad, really, but though I didn’t know it then, I became an orphan in one day.41

I was supposed to have lived with Mrs. Calhoun, but for some reason, she wouldn’t talk to me or look at me. I think she was in shock then. She and my mom grew up together since they were practically in the womb. Like me and Johnny were supposed to be.42

I was sent to Illinois, a few miles out of Chicago, to Mrs. Calhoun’s brother and his family. Uncle Joseph and Aunt Marlene. That’s what they told me to call them. I was pretty sure they hated me when they first me. They hated anybody for no reason, except their own family, really. Well, even their own son I think they hated.43

They didn’t show that they hated me until I screwed up the first time, but it wasn’t like I had it coming. It was more like they were just tolerating me for Mrs. Calhoun’s sake, and when I messed with one of their own the toleration turned to hate. Hate that never would die down.44

The trip in the van was long, and silent. They wouldn’t fly to Florida because it was too expensive, and gas back then wasn’t as expensive I guess. Anyway, it was just them. I had only two suitcases, one for my clothes, the other some of my toys and pictures.45

One other thing about me, is that I have this huge hobby about collecting pictures, of my best friends, family, and about everyone and everything I like. I think I had about forty pictures in that other suitcase.46

When we pulled in their driveway about a day or two later, Aunt Marlene told me I was going to be rooming with my “cousin.” As much as they hated me, they still insisted I called them family. I think I was there illegally or something.47

Anyway, we had arrived at the house, a two story typical suburban one with a basement and all, and it was just ordinary. Different from my house, the one in Cordell, but ordinary nonetheless. It looked like the others on the block, except that this one was blue and red.48

I carried in my own suitcases, taking them to the room they showed me. Which was, at the time, my “foster-cousin,” Eric’s room. He was two years older than me, and was trouble from the beginning.49

“Hey, kid,” he said, real rough and mean as I hefted my suitcase on the cot that was to be my new bed. “This is my room, and I don’t plan on sharing it.”50

“I-I’m sor—” I started, but he punched me in the arm. That hurt. I did what Mommy had always taught me. I kicked him in the shin. Hard. He doubled over, and called for Aunt Marlene. She looked at Eric. Then at me, and I could see she was mad. She pulled me by my hair and brought me to the basement.51

And that was how I came to live there. There was only one light bulb in the basement, with a chain to pull if you were tall enough. I wasn’t tall enough, so when Aunt Marlene closed the door, I was in the dark, on a hard lumpy cot. I started to cry. For Mommy. For Daddy. For John. For me.52

“Are you okay?” came a person’s voice, once with concern and child-like innocence. I opened my eyes and turned around. The light was on.53

“Johnny?” I asked. He looked so much like Johnny. Except he had messy dark brown hair instead of Johnny’s light brown.54

He shook his head. “I’m Liam. Johnny’s my cousin.”55

I wiped the tears onto my sleeve. “I’m Izabelle.”56

“How old are you?” he asked.57

“Five.”58

“Me too,” Liam said. “Did you really beat up Eric?”59

“I didn’t mean to,” I told him, which was true. I only hurt people if they hurt me first.60

“You’re cool. Wanna be friends?”61

“Yeah.” I replied. My first friend here. I smiled for the first time.62

“Liam, get up here!” yelled Uncle Joseph.63

Liam looked back, almost wistfully, and then turned to look at me. He gave a sort of smile to me, and then turned and ran toward the stairs. “See ya later, Izabelle!” he said, and left.64