Damien Clark sat on the back of his friend, Mark's, pickup truck. The plan was to pick a few snacks at Jimmy's, the local convenience store, and meet Coco and some her friends back at her place. It was an average day for the two and Damien, though he couldn't stand hearing Coco rant about the golden girl- Luna Goodwin- was feeling the urge to blow off some steam. Coco wasn't good for much but she did have a special knack for blowing off his steam. Girls like Coco were simple. Not easy but simple; Coco always made him work for whatever he wanted from her despite whether or not it was worth it. But she wasn't hard to figure out, she was the kind of girl that just wanted to be coddled and complimented every once in awhile, despite the permanent scowl on etched onto her face and confrontational posture. It was something most people wanted, including Damien.

Looking up at the swirling grey sky, Damien released a low groan and rubbed the back of his neck. Despite the rumors that circled around them, Damien and Coco didn't actually like each other. They understood each other and didn't mind using one another to their advantage but there was nothing about Coco that made Damien feel remotely warm inside. He didn't know much about liking anyone in particular but he assumed when he did, that person would be able to remove the cold, hollow feeling that resided in his chest. He wouldn't merely tolerate that person's presence but crave it. Surely, it would be a different experience but Damien liked different. With his ink covered arms, pierced flesh and criminal record, Damien was the most different kid in all of cookie cutter New Brooks.

The monstrous roar of a motorbike drew Damien out of his musings. Glancing over at the end of the lot, he surprised to see a Harley Davidson Low Rider pulling next to the gas pump across from him. He was even more surprised to see the girl who dared to ride a beast like that. She definitely wasn't from New Brooks, Damien would have remembered her if so. Her statuesque body was decked out in leather from her jacket to her steeled toe combat boots, windswept ebony locks and a pair of aviators concealed her face but that only piqued his interest. Swinging her legs off of the bike, the girl's boots hit the gravel with a loud thud. There was an angered tension hiding in her jerky movements as she stumbled over to the pump.

A strange feeling twisted in his gut upon seeing her. He knew he should have left her alone- she was probably just some passerby looking for danger- and yet, even with that in mind, he couldn't stop himself from jumping down from the truck and making his way towards the girl. She was too immersed her own thoughts to even notice Damien until he cleared his throat. A small jolt of surprise went through her, causing her to take a step back before she managed to school her features. Up close, Damien was able to see her own more vivid detail. For being a complete stranger there was an odd familiarity that clung to her sharp features.

"You must be new," Damien held out his hand, "I'm Damien. Damien Clark."

The girl's black painted lips twisted in a scowl. Though he couldn't see her eyes, he could feel the weight of her stare as she glanced from his hand back to his face. After she refused to release her grip on the pump, Damien's hand returned to its side.

"Uh, listen," he tried again, "I don't know how long you'll be here-"

"Not long," the girl interrupted him. Her voice was raspy but in unnatural way, as if she had just finished crying.

"Well, in the meantime, if you want to meet a few people, I could introduce you."

The girl's scowl only deepened, "I doubt there's anyone in this town that I haven't already met. I used to live here."

That news came as a great shock to Damien. He was sure that he had never met her before or even heard of a girl that looked like her. She would have been the topic of many conversations if so.

"You might of heard of me before," the continued and removed her aviators, revealing two cold, diamond eyes. "My name is-"

"Twyla," Damien said her name as if it were a forsaken prayer.

He took a step back, his face went slack and his heart started to palpitate in his chest. Twyla smirked as he cowered in front of her. It had been six years since she had last been in New Brooks, and it appeared nothing had changed. Not the stormy grey skies, or the decrepit institutions such as Jimmy's, even her sparkling reputation seemed to be intact. The boy- Damien- as she had learned his name- lost all interest in befriending her as he ran back to the truck and hopped in the cab. Was it something I said, Twyla thought while biting back a cackle.

"Home sweet home," Twyla muttered under her breath.

She didn't remember much from last night apart from being told the horrific news of their upcoming travel to her hometown. She did, however, remember the utter betrayal and anger that wreaked havoc on her heart and apparently their home too. Nana and Nyx were nice enough to not scold her for knocking down their house, they even allowed her to drive to New Brooks on her bike but despite her broken pleas, they still forced her to go. And for that, she would never forgive them. The drive up was nice, she needed the time to think. In the midst of all her thoughts, she had several escape routes planned but she knew Nana would be able to find her anywhere. Stupid psychic.

In her pocket, her phone buzzed for what might have been the twentieth time. Feeling nice, Twyla decided to hear the rant that was surely waiting on the other side of the line.

"What do you mean you're in New Brooks?" Laurel screamed.

At a truckstop in South Carolina, Twyla had finally managed to stop the waterworks from flowing and remembered her best friend who was sure to worry once news of her collapsed house hit the airwaves. She sent her a quick text which consisted of the necessary information: In New Brooks. Don't worry. Seconds later Laurel responded with a series of worried text messages and when Twyla didn't respond to the texts, she began her phone call marathon.

"The text was pretty self-explanatory. I'm in New Brooks. It appears mother dearest wants to have a family reunion," Laurel did not miss the bitter edge to Twyla's voice.

"Are you okay?" Her voice hushed to a whisper.

"No. I'm not. Even though tomorrow, I will be a free and legal adult, my mother wants to exert her last bit of control over my life. As if everything she's done wasn't enough," Twyla didn't realize she was yelling until, silence met her on the other end of the phone.

"Where's Nana and Nyx?" Laurel asked. She knew Twyla's limits, and she knew the consequences that would come if she crossed them.

"They're at my old home."

Her phone vibrated against her ear as a text alert popped on the screen. A sigh escaped Twyla's lips as she stared at the message from Nyx: Stop stalling. Go to the mayor's office, your mom is worried. Oh yeah, Twyla was certain her mother was worried. Worried that she would somehow manage to ruin her spotless reputation in the five minutes that she had been in town. Not even Twyla was that good at pissing people off.

"Listen, I gotta go. I'll call you later when I know what's going on."

"Sure," Laurel said on the other side of the line but her tone sounded flat, as if she were trying conceal how she really felt. "You're coming back, r-right?"

"Trust me. This trip will take two days, tops. I'll be back in time for that stupid calculus test on Friday."

"You mean the one you didn't study for?" Laurel snickered.

"That would be the one," Twyla agreed and hung up the phone.

Shoving the phone into her back pocket, Twyla swiped her card through the Gas Pump's slot and jumped back onto her waiting bike. Her bike jumped alive under the touch of her skillful hands, it awoke with a roar before leaping out if it's parked spot and racing into the nearly abandoned street. The cool, almost winter-like air nipped at the exposed plains of Twyla's face. Her hair danced behind her head, twisting and turning itself into knots before straightening itself out and repeating the process all over again. She passed through a row of houses, each white and two stories tall. There was nothing particularly interesting about the houses, and Twyla suspected they were built like on purpose- to complement the normalcy of the average family that would live in them. There were no chain restaurants or strip malls in New Brooks. If you wanted a nice meal that wasn't home cooked, you went to Gino's, a tiny Italian restaurant that could only serve twenty people at a time and was ran by a man whose family was so far removed from their Italian roots they could only make pasta after reading the steps on the back of a box. New Brooks didn't have a Whole Foods or a Weiss. There was one grocery store, called Murphs, owned by a man named Joe but his great great grandfather's name was Murphy. Passerbys usually referred to New Brooks as a quaint little town in because each place had its own personal touch. But that didn't make the town quaint, it made it a mousetrap for kids. The kids who lived in those perfect rows of houses or had a parent who owned their own store, grew up never wondering if there more to the world, because in New Brooks they had an entire life planned out. Get a job, get married, buy a house, have a kid, die and repeat.

It was a never ending cycle. One that Twyla hated with a passion.

City Hall was not hard to find. In the realms of that mundane town, the Mayor's office stuck out like a sore thumb. It was large and imposing, it looked to be cut from one giant marble slab, accented with wooden trims to keep it true to its colonial origins. The parking lot was practically empty and the cars that were there seemed to be owned by the underpaid staff. The only car that really stuck out to Twyla was a cherry red Aston Martin. Without waiting for the fear to settle in, Twyla jumped off her bike and bounded up the stairs. The double mahogany doors were already opened, so Twyla walked right in. The interior design matched the outside perfectly, everything looked so... clean and orderly. Exactly the way she supposed a government office should be ran but there was an unspoken tension that made her realize that the perfection was only an illusion.

Sitting behind an elongated counter, guarding the spiral staircase that Twyla assumed led to her mother's office, sat a middled aged woman. She was typing furiously on the keyboard as her steely eyes glanced through the posted notes that littered the rim around her screen. It took almost a full minute for the woman to acknowledge Twyla's presence and when she did, her lips twisted into a bitter sneer. It was apparent that the Anne Taylor catalogue model, didn't approve of Twyla. But Twyla didn't come to New Brooks to be judged by her fashion choices, she was only there to have a pleasant little chat with her sweet mama before forever burning the name New Brooks from her brain.

"I'm here to see my... Mother," the word tasted like poison on her tongue.

"Have a seat," the woman said as her phone beeped with incoming call, "I'll get to you in a moment."

The woman was extremely lucky Twyla was feeling weak in the knees, or else she would have been given the unique experience of being thrown out a window. Stumbling over to the row of folding chairs, next to the front doors, Twyla collapsed into the one closest to the exit. There was no one else waiting to be seen, except for a petite blond who had her head in her hands. Twyla didn't know why but the blond captured her attention. The longer she stared at her, the more familiar she seemed. An overwhelming urge to open her mouth and talk to her washed over Twyla. It was the strangest thing. The secretary, however, interrupted her before she able to say anything.

"Miss Goodwin?" The secretary asked.

Both Twyla and the blond stood to their feet. "Yes?" They asked in unison.

**This chapter was going to be pretty long, so I decided to break it into two parts. In this chapter we meet a new character, Damien Clark, and though he seems to be a good match for Twyla I have no plans on putting them together. I'm putting this out as a warning: that ship will not sail. He will, however, be important later in the story. In the next chapter Twyla and Luna will come face to face, literally, for the first time in six years and Celeste will explain to the girls why she has demanded Twyla's return one day before their birthday.

I hope you guys are liking the book so far and thank you so much for reading!
XOXO,
Ro.**