Finding Laila: Some Changes Are Necessary Part 1

FINDING LAILA.

by T.K. Rapp.

Dedication.

For Gidget and Peese ~ my angels, my world, my dream.

Never stop questioning, growing, and loving because that's the only way you'll ever learn.

"The problem I have with haters is that they see my glory, but they don't know my story..."

~ Maya Angelou.

Prologue.

July 2002.

"We're here, Laila," Mom said as she turned around to look at me, her eyes s.h.i.+ning with excitement.

Even being five years old, I knew she was hoping I'd be excited as they were about the new house, but all I could do was stare at the unfamiliar building, because that's all it was to me.

I looked at the numbers over the door: 982.

Mom had made me repeat our new address over and over. She even turned it into a song to help me remember. I had a moment in the car alone and whispered the song to myself.

"982 Cedar Lane, that's where you go to escape the rain."

It was quite possibly the worst rhyme she'd ever made, but Mom always worried about something happening to me so she made me sing it until I knew it by heart.

Dad got out, walked around the front of the car, and waited until Mom joined him, both wearing eager smiles. When I didn't get out, they came to my door and helped me climb out.

A huge moving truck was already parked on the street in the front of our new two-story brick house. It was nicer than our old house in Dallas, but that was home; this new place-wasn't.

"I know it's not the same, honey, but you're going to love it here," Mom said as her smile faded when she saw my mopey expression.

"But I don't have my bed and my yellow room," I whispered, trying hard to be a big girl.

"You'll have to go inside and see for yourself," Mom sang as she smiled at my dad and winked.

"Is my new room yellow, too?" I could hear the hope in my voice.

"It sure is, Laila. Or we can paint it any other color you want," Dad said.

"I don't like it here," I sulked.

"How do you know? You haven't given it a chance. Besides, we already talked about this, Laila." Dad squatted in front of me and brushed my hair out of my face. "Daddy's work needed him to go somewhere else. I miss home, too, but you're going to love it here. I promise."

He was still in front of me until one of the movers called out to him, but he waved him off and pulled me into a big hug.

"I'm going to make sure this place is perfect for you, angel. Okay?"

I nodded my head into his shoulder, and when he pulled away, his eyes met mine to make sure I was okay.

Dad had the biggest smile and pulled me in one last time to blow a loud kiss on my neck, making me laugh.

"That's my girl," he said.

He kissed my head when he stood up and reached for Mom's hand as they walked away to talk to the two men. I was left standing alone staring at a house that didn't feel like home.

I could feel the tears welling and I wanted so much to climb into the car and never come out again. I was about to do exactly that when I heard some kids laughing a few houses over. I looked up and watched intently.

Four boys were running around, jumping over flowerbeds and rolling around like something was attacking them. I stood there and watched with fascination as they laughed and continued playing, oblivious to my intrusion.

"Base!" yelled one with blond, messy hair. His T-s.h.i.+rt was covered in dirt and he crossed his arms as if his single word was final.

"No way! I tagged you first," a short one with black hair argued. His hair was the darkest shade I had ever seen and he looked a little scary for some reason. Maybe it was the command in his voice.

"You always say that, Cole," another boy, taller than the others, protested. He seemed to be the authority figure of the group.

I continued to watch everyone as they stopped and looked at the taller boy while he tried to sort everything out.

"Ask her, she was watching," responded a scrawny one with gla.s.ses too big for his face and hair much too long.

I looked around, eager to see who she was. Maybe she would be my new friend. I turned to look and saw no one else, but the little one was pointing directly at me.

"Hey you!" called out the little one with gla.s.ses. "Did he touch base?"

I looked at them, stunned that they were talking to me. I was also somewhat intimidated as they walked toward me to wait for my answer.

I'd had one friend at our old house, but we didn't play all the time and I had never played with boys before.

"No?"

"See," the one with black hair said triumphantly. "She's on my team."

"You want a girl on your team?" the first blond boy scoffed.

"What? It's not like she's a real girl. She's not even wearing a dress," the black-haired boy said and pointed at me.

"I hate dresses," I said firmly. "And I'm super fast."

"I'm Joey Parker, III," the one with gla.s.ses said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Laila," I answered, giving him a questioning look. "The third what?"

He laughed and explained that he was the third Joey Parker in his family. I had no idea what it meant, but I didn't want them to think I was a dumb girl.

"That's Haden," Joey pointed at the boy with jet-black hair. "And that's Braxton," he said as he pointed to the tallest boy who everyone seemed to listen to.

"I'm Cole," said the blond one. "And you're wrong-I was safe."

"I am not," I argued. "You were running and I saw him touch you before you touched the tree. He even jumped over that flower over there."

Cole looked at me, narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms, clearly angry with me. "She can't play with us."

"We have to vote," Braxton said as the others nodded. "Raise your hand if you want Laila to play with us."

Three of the boys raised their hands and looked at Cole, who still had his arms crossed.

"Fine," he gave in and glared in my direction. "But if she starts crying, I'm not going to play anymore."

"Good, because if you cry, I'm going to leave," I said to Cole and stuck my tongue out for good measure.

The other boys laughed and pushed at him until he finally gave up and ran off with Braxton.

Haden walked over to me and told me the rules of the game, but made sure to keep me out of Cole's path. "I won't let him get you."

"I'm not scared of him," I said with a little more strength than five-year-old me actually felt.

"Good," he said before running off behind a tree and squatting. It was my signal to move into my spot, but I glanced back at Mom to see if she was still outside. She wore a big smile and walked over to my dad, hugging him tight as she pointed in my direction. For some reason, they liked seeing me in the other yard, playing with kids, and I liked to make them happy.

I was about to wave back when I heard one of the boys yell while Joey grabbed my hand.

"C'mon, you have to hide," he said, dragging me to a spot behind a trashcan. "Cole wants to get you out. He's a jerk-face."

My hand covered my mouth in shock. "You said a bad word!"

"Jerk isn't a bad word, especially if you're talking about Cole."

I couldn't help but laugh and tried the word on for size. "Yeah, he's an idiot jerk-face."

Joey started laughing with me and agreed.

And this began my unbreakable bond with Joey, who would become my best friend, and my complicated, and at times, intense relations.h.i.+p with the Cedar Lane boys. What I didn't know then, in the blissful ignorance of youth, was how much those boys would come to mean to me. And how much everything can change in a year.

Chapter 1 ~ Finding Strength.

Present Day.

Laila Nixon is a s.l.u.t.

"Well that's original," I mutter to myself while was.h.i.+ng my hands. I'm used to the blasphemous bathroom graffiti bearing my name, so I only roll my eyes, barely acknowledging it.

This has always been a perk of being one of the guys. Joey, Cole, Haden, and Braxton are the only people who know me and everyone else has filled in their own ideas of who I am. Laila Nixon is a Mad Lib for anyone looking to get a jab.

Guys think I'm easy, so they're always trying to get me to go out with them. And girls, well, they think the same thing, but they go the extra mile to humiliate me in hopes of dating one of my friends.

Funny thing is, I'm not what any of them think I am. I study hard and make good grades. I'm on the swim team and we might even make it to state this year. I volunteer at local nursing homes and help my parents with my little sister.

But for whatever reason, I guess the jerks can sleep better at night thinking about me what they will. The ones who know me, truly know me, they're the only ones I care about.

That doesn't mean I don't put people in their place when the time warrants it.

I pull out a brush and run it through my wavy, light brown hair in a hurry. There's only seven minutes between cla.s.ses, though I find myself loitering in the nasty restroom, the smell of stale urine and hairspray heavy in the air. I pull out a tube of lip-gloss and apply it to give me a little color.

I don't usually wear makeup, but after reading in a magazine that purple is a complementary color to green eyes, like mine, I did some experimenting. A touch of mascara, soft black eyeliner, and a hint of blush and the look was complete. I thought I did a decent job, considering it's not part of my daily regime.

The first morning I went downstairs after trying out the new look, Mom was stunned, but said nothing. However, the guys weren't as relenting-asking me what guy I was trying to impress. Despite my protestations, they kept up their ribbing all the way to school.

I suppose they've gotten used to it now, because they rarely say anything.

Staring at my reflection, there are a few things I note: 1. I'm not comfortable in makeup.

2. I really need a haircut.

3. I don't give a c.r.a.p about any of it.

I close my messenger bag and sling it on my shoulder before walking toward the door.

"Excuse me," I say when a gaggle of girls push past me as I try to get out.

I hear them behind me laughing and whispering, but when I turn to face them, they quickly turn away. I give them a final glare before leaving the room.

"Laila! Hold up," Joey yells from across the hall. He is probably the loudest person I know. It's ironic considering that the booming voice doesn't fit his personality or appearance. You wouldn't look at Joey Parker and think "loudmouth." But he's the guy that doesn't understand the meaning of the word "quiet."

"What's up?" I ask, waiting for him to catch up.

"It's about tonight." He scrunches up his face making me laugh.

"Lemme guess, you're canceling again?" I c.o.c.k my head to the side and give him the look that tells him I already know everything. I'm starting to get used to being relegated to second-string status now that my best friend has gotten himself a girlfriend. It hurt at first because I was used to having Joey's undivided attention, but I also know how much having a girlfriend means to him. So I didn't hold it against him, even if it still stung a bit.

"I'm sorry, Lai. But Bailey wants me to come over after school and we haven't seen each other much all week."