Secrets Untold Read online

  Secrets Untold

  The Lip Gloss Chronicles

  Shelia M. Goss

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S BIO

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my two little cousins, Jasmine Hogan and Ellen Jones, and all the fans of The Lip Gloss Chronicles. Thanks for your e-mails and your comments. Because of you, Secrets Untold has been told.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Before I go any further, I have to acknowledge our Heavenly Father for bestowing on me a gift but most importantly for His grace and mercy.

  To my mother who taught me the importance of family. To some special fans: Ari, Charnelle, Asia, Kaytlynn, Macon, Neoshia, Amber, Jayla, Nicole, Nadiya, Kimberly Hagins, Urban Teens Read Group on Facebook, and The Future Leader Readers Book Club in Dallas, Texas. I know I’m forgetting some people, so if you don’t see your name here, I’ll get you on the next round.

  Once again, I have to thank the parents, the librarians, the teachers, the book clubs, The Brown Bookshelf and the reviewers like Urban Reviewers, Urban Teen Reads, APOOO Book Club, RAWSISTAZ, TeensReadToo.com, etc. for spreading the word about The Lip Gloss Chronicles (books about sassy teenagers with a lot of heart).

  Of course, I can’t do an acknowledgment without saying thank you to the people who are responsible for making this book possible: Carl Weber and the rest of the Urban Books staff, such as Natalie Weber, and my agent Dr. Maxine Thompson.

  I would also like to thank my fellow authors who write in the YA genre that inspire me: Celeste O. Norfleet, Paula Chase, Ni-Ni Simone, Nikki Carter, Kelli London, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, Carla J. Curtis, and Earl Sewell.

  Last, but not least, this book is dedicated to every teenager out there who has a dream. Think it. Believe it and know that you can achieve it. Stay in school and be the best you can be. There’s someone out here cheering for you.

  Shelia M. Goss

  1

  “I’m a diva,” I sang along with an old Beyoncé song. I snatched my iPod’s earpiece out of my left ear as soon as I saw my American history teacher, Mr. Trudeau, walk through the classroom door.

  “Ms. Porsha Swint, the next time I catch you with the iPod in class, I will confiscate it,” Mr. Trudeau said, as he placed his briefcase on top of his desk.

  Busted. “I’m sorry.” I looked down as I heard several of my classmates snicker.

  Mr. Trudeau removed a stack of stapled sheets of paper from his briefcase. “Clear your desks. Let’s see how much you’ve learned.”

  I looked at my other classmates and their faces mirrored mine—dread. I hated pop quizzes.

  Thirty minutes later, we were grading each other’s papers. When I got handed my paper, I frowned when I saw the red mark on the front page. Relief swept through my body when I turned to the second sheet and didn’t see any more red marks. I missed one question, which allowed me to remain in my “A” percentile.

  At lunch time, I met Danielle Davis and Tara Chance, my two BFFs (best friends forever) at our unofficial designated table in the corner of the cafeteria. Ever since we became juniors at Plano High School, we no longer shared the same classes. We usually ate lunch together because it was the only time we could get together during the school day.

  “There’s Ken,” Tara said, in between bites.

  I looked in his direction. The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head at the sight of Ken all up in some other girl’s face. I didn’t like being jealous. Ken made our stoic school uniforms look like designer wear, because he could have easily been a Calvin Klein model. With looks and brains, Ken in my opinion, had it going on.

  Ever since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend Anthony for cheating during Christmas break, boys had been slipping me their numbers, but Kenneth, or Ken for short, was the one who had captured my attention. He was the star of the debate team and had scholarship offers to all the prestigious colleges in state as well as in other parts of the country.

  This was the same Ken I watched all up in some other girl’s face.

  “She needs to get off my man,” I said. I was pissed because his actions were disrespectful. Maybe if it didn’t happen in front of my two BFFs, I could overlook it, but now I couldn’t.

  Danielle tapped my arm. “Get ready. Here he comes.”

  I used my napkin to wipe the food from around my mouth.

  Tara said, “You look fine. Now smile.”

  Seconds later, Ken stood in front of our table. “Hi, ladies,” he said, not once taking his eyes off me. “Porsha, what’s up?”

  “I’m busy,” I stated.

  “Can we talk after you finish eating?”

  The allure of his cologne was bound to break down my defenses. I responded, “I have a test next hour so I don’t have time to talk.”

  “Call me later,” he said.

  “Ken, look, there’s no need for me to play games. I saw you over there huddled up with some girl. Don’t think you can come in my face now.”

  “Aww, that was Lisa. She’s like a little sister to me,” he replied, not once looking me in the eye.

  “Didn’t look like no sister to me,” Danielle said, right before she picked up her bottle of juice and started drinking it.

  “Me neither.” By now, I was sitting with my arms crossed.

  “I wanted to ask you to the Valentine’s dance, but maybe it was a bad idea, since I’m getting all of this attitude,” he said.

  “I would rather go by myself than go with you,” I lied.

  “Fine. I’ll just go ask Lisa. She’ll be glad to go,” he replied curtly, before walking away from our table.

  I picked up my glass of juice to throw at him, but Tara held my hand, stopping me.

  “He’s not worth you getting suspended.”

  “Can you believe it? I actually liked him.”

  “Jerk,” Danielle said.

  Tara tried to make light of the situation. “You can always help me babysit the night of the dance.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “I don’t think so. Danielle, looks like we’ll both be going solo.”

  I spent the rest of the day thinking of a million and one ways to get Ken back. I had the perfect payback. I smiled. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to act on it. Texas didn’t play when it came to murder, and being fifteen wouldn’t stop them from giving me life.

  I moved Ken to the back of my mind because the dance was next week and I needed a dress— something red and hot; something to make Ken and any other boy wish he had chosen me as their date, instead of the one they were with. I couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring. Now all I had to do was convince
my mom to make a special trip to the Galleria.

  My mom drove up in her black Mercedes. She pulled up near us and rolled her window down. “Hi, girls.”

  “Hi, Ms. Angie,” Tara responded.

  Angie, was short for Angela. My mom insisted my friends use Ms. Angie instead of Mrs. Swint. My mom said calling her Mrs. Swint made her sound as old as my grandmother. My mom did her best to stay looking young. Most of the time, people mistook us for sisters instead of mother and daughter.

  My mom waved. “How’s your mom?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Tara responded.

  “Tell her I’ll be calling her soon for a girls’ night out.”

  “Girl, I’ll call you later,” I said as I opened the door and threw my backpack on the backseat. After putting on my seatbelt, I asked, “Can we stop by the Galleria so I can pick out a dress for the Valentine’s dance next week?”

  “Don’t you have something to wear in your closet?”

  “No, ma’am,” I lied.

  “You should. I bought you a red dress for some occasion. You’ve worn it, what, once.”

  “But, Mom, you know I can’t be seen in the same thing twice.” I batted my eyes, flittering my long black eyelashes, hoping my mom could see the desperation.

  “Who’s your date?” she asked.

  “Nobody’s asked me out, so I’m going by myself. Well, with Danielle, but by myself.” I said a quick prayer, hoping my mom would get me a new dress.

  I pouted as we passed the street that would have taken us straight to the Galleria. The only sound in the car was the music my mom had blasting from her car stereo. We were headed to Northwest Highway, which meant only one thing. No. I couldn’t get my hopes up. I didn’t want another disappointment. A smile swept across my face as my mom steered the car into the North Park Mall parking lot. It wasn’t the Galleria, but it would do. I knew exactly what store we could hit for my semi-formal dress.

  “We only have an hour because I need to pick up the boys from band practice,” my mom stated.

  “Thanks, Mom. You always come through,” I replied gleefully as I set out on a mission for the perfect dress.

  2

  The days leading up to the Valentine’s dance seemed to drag on. February the fourteenth marked not only Valentine’s Day, but it was the countdown to my sixteenth birthday—a month away. The day for the dance had finally arrived. As I dressed, I talked to Tara.

  “Tara, I sure wish you were going.” My voice echoed due to me using the speakerphone. I did my best not to mess up my freshly done hair as I pulled the dress over my head.

  “You and Dani are so lucky. My mom’s just trying to punish me because my dad left.”

  “When was the last time you saw your dad?” I asked.

  “Two months ago. He wants to see us, but she won’t let us see him,” Tara responded.

  “That’s messed up. If it were my dad, I would want to see him at least every week.”

  “It’s not like he’s not paying child support. He pays and she still trips.”

  Tara went on and on about her mom and dad and their drama. I halfway listened as I finished getting dressed in front of the mirror. The red knee-length dress was hot. Ken and every other boy at the dance would definitely be looking my way.

  My mom walked in. “You look good. Look like I did at your age,” she said.

  “Tara, my mom’s here. I’ll call you after the dance.”

  My mom fixed loose strands of my hair. “Danielle’s parents have gotten you two a car.”

  “Really? Oh my goodness. We’re going to be the envy of the school,” I said, not bothering to hide my excitement.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Danielle rang the doorbell. Her form-fitting sapphire blue dress rocked.

  “Come on, girls. Let me take your pictures,” my mom said, as she stood behind us.

  “We can take some at the dance.” I headed toward the door.

  “That’s fine and dandy, but I want my own personal ones. So come on,” my mom insisted.

  I looked at Danielle and she looked at me. We knew it was no use in arguing with her. We obeyed because the sooner we took the pictures, the quicker we would be at the dance. My mom took our pictures in various poses in front of the fireplace and outside near our awaiting white long stretch limousine.

  Once we were inside the limousine, Danielle poured mineral water in two champagne glasses. We clicked them together as we had seen our parents do at parties.

  All eyes were on us when we pulled up in front of the school. We heard people “oohing” and “ahhing” as the limousine driver opened the door. We exited the limousine like we were superstars. There wasn’t a red carpet awaiting us, but we walked up the walkway as if we were preparing for a movie premiere.

  Danielle said, “I bet you they wished they’d asked us to the dance now.”

  “You know they do.”

  “There goes your boy, Ken, and his date, Lisa.”

  “Where?” I asked. “So I can make sure I don’t look in their direction.”

  “Keep walking. Don’t look to your right.”

  Danielle and I didn’t have an issue finding boys to dance with. It seemed we weren’t the only ones at the dance dateless. A lot of the boys were there by themselves. The ones who weren’t wished they were there with us, as Danielle and I tore up the dance floor with different guys. Danielle juggled Brad and Michael, plus a few more guys. I had planned on watching her but was too busy taking care of my own business.

  By the end of the night, we were counting numbers in the back of the limousine on the ride home. I scrolled through my BlackBerry. “Girl, that was fun. Remind me to go dateless to the next dance.”

  “From the amount of numbers we got, I doubt we’ll be dateless for a while,” Danielle responded.

  “All we have to do is weed out who has potential and who is a waste of our time.”

  “Now that’s going to be hard. The ones you think are good for you might not be and vice versa.”

  Danielle had a point. “I guess it’ll be trial and error,” I replied.

  “Let’s vow to not get our emotions tied up with any of the dudes until we know for sure what he’s about.”

  “I’ll toast to that,” I agreed, as our cranberry juice-filled flutes tapped each other, almost spilling on us.

  Surprisingly, when I got home my parents were not downstairs waiting on me. The lights beamed from my two little brothers’ room. Jay and Jason were one year apart but might as well have been twins because, at ten and eleven years old, they were pests to the third power. I poked my head in their door. Fortunately for me, they were knocked out. Don’t get me wrong, they got on my nerves, but I still loved them.

  I heard voices coming from down the hall. The closer I got to my parents’ room, the louder they got.

  “I’m tired of living in Dion McNeil’s shadow!” my dad yelled.

  “You’ve never had to live in his shadow,” I heard my mom say.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  I stopped outside of their door. I wondered if I should alert them that I was back at home. My curiosity got the better of me, so I remained outside the door, hoping they didn’t open it as they continued to go back and forth.

  My mom said, “This is just in case.”

  “You’re keeping an entire scrapbook of this man. What am I supposed to think?”

  Dion McNeil, the former NFL star, was hot, but I had no idea my mom was fascinated with the man.

  “Trey, please, baby, calm down.”

  “It’s bad enough I have to deal with him being Porsha’s father, but this here is ridiculous.”

  Freeze the frame. I know my dad did not say what I thought he said. My mind rewound to his last statement. Dion McNeil, my dad. What? When and how did this happen?

  I stood frozen outside of my parents’ door as their argument continued and my mom basically confirmed the words of the man I had been calling dad for fifteen years.

  “Dio
n never has to know,” I heard her say. “I won’t renege on my promise.”

  “Angie, a scrapbook. What if Porsha had found it? What then?”

  My mom’s voice lowered, so I couldn’t hear her response. I put my ear to the door but only heard mumbling. I heard my mom crying, but that was it.

  Should I burst through the door and let them know I heard everything. Should I keep the information to myself? How could my parents lie to me all of my life about who my real dad was? How did Dion McNeil end up being my dad? So many questions went through my mind as I stood outside of their door.

  I reached out to knock on the door. At the last second, I dropped my hand and walked away.

  My night had started on a high note but ended in the gutter.

  3

  “Porsha, wake up.” My mom shook my arm, attempting to wake me up.

  “I don’t feel good,” I responded, turning my back toward her. It wasn’t really a lie because my head hurt from crying myself to sleep last night.

  My mom placed the back of her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

  I moaned. “It’s my stomach,” I lied.

  “I’ll tell Trey. I have too much stuff to do today, so he’ll have to take off work to stay with you.”

  “Mom, I’m old enough to stay by myself. I just need some Pepto or something, and I’ll be all right.”

  “You sure? I don’t like you being in this big old house by yourself.”

  I turned around and faced her. My tear-swollen eyes made me appear sick. “If I need anything, I’ll call you or Dad.” As soon as I said the word Dad, my head hurt more. I moaned.

  “Poor baby.” My mom rocked me in her arms. “I have to get the boys ready so I can drop them off at school. You’re going to be okay?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry about me,” I assured her, as she got up off my bed and headed out the room. I slid back under the covers.

  A few minutes later I heard footsteps approach. “I heard my little princess wasn’t feeling too good today,” Trey Swint, the man I had known as my father all my life, said.

  I couldn’t bring myself to face him. I knew if I looked into his face, the floodgates of tears would overflow. Instead, I said, barely above a whisper, “I’ll be okay. It’s just my stomach.”