Ethan's Secret (James Madison Series Book 2)

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Reader's Comments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Author's Note

  Sophie's Different - Prologue

  Ethan's Secret

  James Madison Series Book 2

  Patrick Hodges

  Copyright (C) 2016 Patrick Hodges

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2016 by Creativia

  Published 2016 by Creativia

  Cover art by Glenda Rankin

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to express my gratitude to all of the amazing people who offered their assistance, advice and opinions during every state of my book's creation, from the conceptual stage to the finished product, which you are now holding in your hand.

  This book is dedicated, first and foremost, to my grandmother, Florence Delvalle, the matriarch of our family, who, sadly, passed away in April 2014, only months before my journey as an author began.

  A million thanks to my incredible, loving, remarkably patient wife Vaneza, for giving me the inspiration, the time and the support without which I could not fulfill my dreams of creating stories for the world. Heartfelt thanks as well to my parents, Robert and Karen Hodges, who insisted that I use proper English even when I wanted nothing less, and for being a terrific Mom and Dad.

  Thanks to Glenda Rankin yet another amazing cover illustration; she is an absolute gem to work with, and I don't think I'll ever use anyone else to bring my characters to brilliant, colorful life.

  Thanks to the many voices that helped shaped my ideas into a cohesive story: Lisa Arroyo, for coming up with a brilliant title again; to my sounding boards, Bryan and Kayla; to all the authors and friends I have come to know and respect over the past year – sorry, there are too many of you to list, but you all know who you are – especially the members of YA Author Rendezvous on Facebook, who every single day remind me of why I love doing this, and why I never want to stop.

  And lastly, thanks to you, for allowing me to share my story with you.

  Reader's Comments

  Hodges is an expert of transporting me back to my teen years with his realistic dialogue and awkwardness, giving me a wistful, nostalgic feeling that lasted long after I'd finished the book. And while the main plot revolves around extreme circumstances that's not a fact of everyday life, current issues for teens are addressed through secondary and supporting characters, making it not only an entertaining book, but one that has an important message: to accept your friends for who they are. – K. Howarth

  Patrick Hodges has this rare talent of transporting you into the midst's of his tales. You actually feel as if you are that eighth grader again going through all the angst, awkwardness and excitement associated with being a teen. His characters are real and utterly believable. His story focuses on so many aspects teens find themselves dealing with every day; acceptance, friendship, bullying, trust and first love. I cannot express how in love I am with this story. It will make you laugh, cry, gasp in disbelief, and bring back memories of Dirty Harry. Great job, Mr. Hodges. 5 out of 5 shiny stars! – M. Bryan

  Once again, Patrick Hodges reveals a depth of insight into the human condition. Themes such as relationships, loneliness and love are explored with great compassion and empathy. The point of view switches between Ethan and Kelsey were interesting giving distinct voices and interpretations of the same world. The author uses humour and witty banter more strongly in this novel, which serves nicely to balance the dramatic and emotional scenes and increases its liveliness and believability. I highly recommend 'Ethan's Secret' for teenagers, parents and all those who teach and guide children. It's a must for the school library. – E. Cooper

  Hodges' writing style stayed consistent from book to book, putting readers at ease from the very first pages. I especially enjoyed the prologue that helped readers make sense of what had happened three years ago to lead Kelsey to be more of who she is today. The side characters rounded out the cast of characters quite well, each helping to populate the story with personalities that were indicative of all the issues that plague teenage life - indecision, lust, courage (or sometimes the lack thereof), and even love. – B. Rodgers

  I read Ethan's Secret and it blew me away! As a teenager myself, I thought that the themes were eloquently knitted into the plot and the characters were very believable. I found myself eating up every word, anxious to discover what happened next! Do yourself a favor and read this book! – C. Conn

  Prologue

  ~ THREE YEARS AGO ~

  Oh my God. It's happening again.

  Today was my first day of fifth grade. I'd only moved to Phoenix two months ago. I didn't know anybody, and nobody knew me. I've always prided myself on my ability to think on my feet, to adapt to my surroundings quickly, and most of all, to make friends. When I stepped off the bus this morning, my first thoughts were: These are kids, just like me, and kids are basically the same wherever you go. Even though I'm the “new girl,” I'm sure I'll find a spot for myself here in no time.

  I still felt bad about what had happened to Naomi. I'd tried one last time to call her before we left Denver, but she still wouldn't talk to me. Which is not surprising, given how badly I'd let her down.

  Jackie Mitchell had tormented her, bullied her so badly that she'd transferred to another school. I'd tried to be there for her, to give her a shoulder to cry on, but it wasn't enough. When she needed me the most, to get off the sidelines and help her, I'd frozen up. Jackie was just too big, too mean. And I'd been too scared to take her on.

  Right before my first class started, I went into the girls' restroom to check my face in the mirror. Not surprisingly, I looked exactly like I did before I left the house this morning: my hair was set in pigtails, and my braces were probably visible from orbit. But I still felt cheerful, happy to officially begin my “fresh start.”

  And then it started.

  “What are you doing in here?” said a voice b
ehind me.

  I turned around to see a girl looking at me. She was about my height, with dark, stringy hair, a tanned complexion and a large nose. She also had a smile on her face, and it wasn't a happy one. Neither were the smiles on the two girls right behind her, who were also staring at me.

  “Just checking my face,” I replied.

  “Well, bad news, it's still there,” said the girl, and her two friends giggled. She looked me up and down, then took a step forward. “Jeez … Freckles, braces and pigtails? What, were they having a three-for-one sale at the Loser Store?”

  Wow. I was right. Kids ARE the same everywhere you go. And that includes bullies. Trying to keep calm, I looked her square in the eye. “Very funny. Who are you, anyway?”

  She took another step forward, sticking her big nose inches from my own. “I'm Tonya Sykes. And I run things around here, metal-mouth.”

  A couple of other girls came into the restroom, but upon seeing Tonya and her friends, they retreated back out the door. There was no one here but the four of us. “What do you want?” I asked.

  Tonya pointed her finger at me. “When I want something, new girl, you'll know, and whatever it is, you'll give it to me. You get that through your spotty head right now, and I won't have to pound you.” Then she pushed her finger into my shoulder blade and gave me a rude shove.

  This was so not how I wanted to start my middle-school experience. Meeting her glare, I hitched my backpack up my shoulder. “Can I go to class now, please?” I said this with as much sarcasm as I could put behind it.

  She sneered at me for a few seconds, and then gradually stepped aside so I could leave. So did her two friends. Grateful to avoid any further trouble, I sped out the door and off to my homeroom class.

  The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful. My homeroom teacher seemed like a great lady, and though a few of my classmates shot weird looks my way, I made it through to lunchtime without incident.

  And then …

  I walked out of the cafeteria, and was about to enter the breezeway that led to the fifth- and sixth-graders' playground when I heard a familiar voice about fifty feet away. I turned my head to see Tonya, her two friends behind her, standing over two slightly smaller girls, who had their backs up against a brick wall.

  I looked at Tonya's victims, both of whom I recognized from my homeroom class. One was skinny, with short blonde hair and a pink long-sleeve, and the other was slightly chubby, with long brown hair and a sky blue polo. They were both doing their best not to look Tonya in the eye. By the scared looks on their faces, I figured this was not their first run-in with Tonya and her crew.

  I stood, shocked, rendered speechless by déjà vu. In my mind, I pictured Jackie, pushing little Naomi to the ground, laughing cruelly while Naomi cried her eyes out. I'd just stood there that day, watching it happen, glued to the ground in fear. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of getting involved.

  And now, not even a year later, here I was, a thousand miles away from where my biggest mistake took place, watching the same thing happen. Again.

  I scanned the area for teachers, but I saw none. Only a small crowd of kids that stood well back, watching Tonya and her friends do what I figured they'd been doing for a long time: push smaller girls around.

  Time seemed to slow down, and the more I watched, the angrier I became. I could feel my breath getting faster, my heart start to pound, and my hands clench into fists. My eyes narrowed, and my teeth gnashed together.

  No. I am NOT making the same mistake twice.

  I walked toward Tonya, who had just about succeeded in making the other two girls start crying. “Awww, you want a Kleenex to dry your tears?” She turned back to one of her friends. “Ashley, you got a snot-rag for these two little babies?” Her friend just laughed.

  I slowly closed the gap between us. Fifteen feet. I pictured Jackie's face. Ten feet. I heard Naomi crying. Five.

  It was then that Tonya finally saw me. She turned towards me with a smirk. “Hey, it's the new girl! I'll be with you in just a –”

  Without even waiting for her to finish her sentence, I stepped right up to her, swung my fist around and punched her in the nose as hard as I could. She staggered back, lost her balance and fell down on the sidewalk, landing square on her butt. She raised a hand to cover her nose, staring up at me with complete shock. A trickle of blood oozed between her fingers.

  I stood over her, giving her my meanest look, a look I also shot at her two friends, just in case they got any ideas. I raised my fists up to show them I meant business, and they took a few quick steps back. Then I turned my attention back to Tonya, who still hadn't found her voice. Her shocked expression had morphed into one of fear, and a tear had formed at the corner of her eye.

  I felt my face flush as I snarled, “I … hate … bullies.” She responded by trying to slide backwards on her butt in retreat. It was obvious no one had stood up to her until now. Good.

  “You can call yourself the boss, the President or the Queen all you want,” I said, glaring directly into her eyes. “But if you pull that crap on me, or anyone else, ever again, you … will … be … sorry. You got that?” I held my fists up again, waiting for her to stand up and retaliate.

  Without a word, she scrambled to her feet and took off running. Her two friends stared after her for a few seconds, and then hastily walked away in the opposite direction.

  After a few more tense moments, I exhaled in relief, and I felt my blood pressure start to return to normal. I looked around, and was rather embarrassed to see about ten kids, mostly girls, staring at me in open-mouthed astonishment. I turned to the two girls on my left, who were still standing against the wall, and they were giving me the same look.

  “Miss Callahan!” said a mature voice behind me.

  Oh, sure. NOW the teacher shows up.

  I turned to see Mrs. Hoffmeyer, my homeroom teacher, striding toward me with a very perturbed look on her face. When she reached me, she put her hands on her hips and said, “I saw that, young lady.”

  The chubby girl took a half-step forward, pointing at me. “No, Mrs. H, you don't understand! Tonya was yelling at us! She stopped her!” The blonde girl, who still hadn't taken her eyes off me, simply nodded.

  “Is this true?” Mrs. H asked me.

  I nodded sheepishly.

  She shook her head. “It's the first day of school, young lady, you should know better than this. I do not approve of physical violence between students!”

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. H,” I said. “I just thought that, you know … somebody should do something.” I glanced at the two other girls, who were now looking at me with sincere gratitude.

  Mrs. H's face softened slightly. “I applaud your spirit, Miss Callahan, but not your methods. I'm afraid I must ask you to accompany me to Principal Baird's office right away.”

  I exhaled again. “Okay.”

  I moved to walk away when the blonde girl spoke for the first time. “Thank you,” she said simply, her face breaking into a smile.

  I stepped toward her, and smiled as well. “You're welcome.”

  “Um … I'm Bryanna,” she said, extending her hand.

  I took her hand and shook it firmly. “Hello.”

  “I'm April,” said the chubby girl, reaching out for a handshake of her own.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking April's hand as well.

  “Right now, Miss Callahan,” said Mrs. H impatiently, gesturing for me to follow her.

  “Coming.” I turned away, but Bryanna's voice stopped me again.

  “What's your name?” she asked curiously.

  I looked back at her and April as I started to walk down the sidewalk toward the principal's office. I smiled and called to them, “It's Kelsey.”

  Chapter 1

  ~ DAY 1 (Mon.) ~

  KELSEY

  “Bruno!” I yelled, throwing the bed-covers off.

  With narrowed, tired eyes, I looked at the clock. It read 6:18 AM. I had twelve minutes until I had to
get up, but as usual, Bruno had beaten my alarm clock to it. He was only two years old, but I'd already lost count of the number of times I'd been awakened by the sensation of his tail brushing my nose. I loved him dearly, but that didn't mean I wanted his furry butt to be the first thing I saw in the morning.

  Bruno skittered into the corner, meowing indignantly, as if I was the one interrupting his day.

  “Oh, don't even start with me,” I said, getting to my feet. “Summer's over, fish-breath. It's time to start school again.” He sat on his haunches, looking silently up at me.

  In one motion, I whipped off the top of my PJ's and threw it at him. He darted out the crack in the bedroom door he had created upon entering.

  I'd always been a pretty low-maintenance girl. I liked going from zero to presentable in as little time as possible, so it didn't take very long to shower, fix my hair, and achieve “smart yet alluring” in my bathroom mirror. I slipped on a new pair of blue jeans and a cool maroon-and-white striped top that I'd bought specifically for the first day of eighth grade, and wandered down the hall to the kitchen.

  Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, cracking the pages of his newspaper. He'd already polished off his breakfast, but a mouth-watering plate of scrambled eggs and freshly-cut orange wedges laid waiting on the other side of the table for me, next to a generous glass of cranberry juice. I was starving. Sitting across the table from him, I picked up my fork and started chowing down. I guzzled the cranberry juice in one gulp.

  Dad lowered his newspaper, looking at me with his usual paternal glare. “You know, Kel, I promise I won't think less of you if you actually chew your food once in a while.”

  “It's your fault, Dad. These eggs are just sooooo delicious, I can't help myself!” I gave him a wink and a grin.

  “You want the Tabasco sauce, or should I just pour it into your mouth?”

  “Nah, I'm good,” I said through another forkful of eggs.

  His face broke into a huge smile. “Morning, sweetheart.”