“Never trust a pretty girl with an ugly secret.” Sara Shepard

 

Drama was ugly.  And yet:  completely unavoidable.  Bradley Whitfield piled her long blond hair into a messy bun on the top of her head as she leaned against the white quartz bathroom counter staring into mirror.  She crinkled her nose in a desperate effort to make the intense pain on the side of her nose visible.  The hidden pimples were like mean girls:  they remained unseen until they struck with a fury.   

 

It was another humid morning in Raleigh, North Carolina and June was just the beginning of several long heat tortured months.  Bradley’s body had adverse effects to the heat like had been born a snow bunny in the arctic.  Her torture would first appear in the form of a headache, from the anxiety she caused herself by being utterly miserable.  On really hot days, she would sweat until every drop of liquid had soaked through her pores, and then her skin would become clammy and cold and shivers would set in.  Her parent’s house had air conditioning and using it wasn’t a financial concern, but her parents were from Louisiana and on a day like today, eighty five and humid wasn’t a reason to close the windows.  

 

Bradley washed two Tylenol down with a handful of water to dull the pulse of the mean girl growing on her nose and sprawled out like a star on her canapé bed, closing her light blue eyes.  She had created a wind tunnel in her bedroom with tower fans on all three sides facing the bed and a ceiling fan that spun year round to the right of her bed.  She was wearing as little clothes as possible, orange and yellow striped boy shorts and a mid-drift red tank top, and even that felt like too much.  She had only been out of bed for a few minutes and dreamed of jumping into the icy backyard pool after consuming an oversized bowl of cereal.  All she needed was five more minutes of peace before surfacing from her bedroom to face the day.     

  

Bradley was a recreational runner and swimmer but she lacked the long body, legs and arms to be exceptional at either.  She was barely over five feet tall, a height that she inherited from both sets of grandparents, which didn’t seem to follow her parents or siblings.  More than she hated running in the heat, she despised being confined to a treadmill.  A person could spend all the time in the world running and never get anywhere.  It was the story of her life, trying hard, but never truly succeeding, never being more than just average.  The only exception was on her report card where above average B’s proved she was a decently good at something.  Everyone who knew Bradley had their own idea of who she was and she had no desire to ever prove them wrong.  She preferred the calm.  It was a fight that she had lost for the last fifteen of the seventeen years of her life. 

 

Her bedroom looked like it came straight out of a Pottery Barn magazine with a Betsey Johnson twist, beginning with the black canapé bed draped in sheer lilac fabric.  Bradley’s personality was a unique combination of preppy, contemporary and girly and the theme of her room resembled every aspect of her.  The Lacoste duvet cover was white, with striped polka dots in various shades of purple.  The throw pillows were all different, once lace, one feather and one sequin, different brands thrown together as if they were made to sit together.  Clear glass beads of various shapes and sizes hung on the night stand lamps in lieu of shades. During the day, the sunlight reflected off the glass and created dancing prisms around the large bedroom. 

 

The grey Pottery Barn oversized chair, walk-in closet, built-in corner desk and flat screen television were luxuries Bradley didn’t pay much attention to.  What she cherished the most was her private bathroom with stand-up shower and garden Jacuzzi tub.  Her bedroom was the former master bedroom before her parents put a massive addition on the house.  Her haven was on the back wall and it was the only room in the house where she could drown out the noise and escape into her own world. 

 

Her Zen was quickly interrupted by a familiar shriek and the overdramatized laughing that followed made her want to vomit.  Bradley also referred to her younger sister, Kristin, as a mean girl and she had an entire set of traits that didn’t resemble anyone in the Whitfield family.  If it wasn’t for Kristin’s family trait blond hair and light blue eyes, Bradley would have believed her sister belonged to another family.  Kristin was like a poisonous snake that could strike a person down at any moment, and her older sister was usually her favorite target. 

 

Bradley rolled off the side of her bed avoiding contact with one of the fans as she swung her legs.  She pushed aside the purple beads that hung in the doorway out to her private second floor balcony.  The small balcony equaled freedom, a way to sneak in and out of the house under the cover of darkness in the backyard without being noticed.  It was how she had come and gone only a few hours earlier. 

 

On a vibrant green raft in the backyard pool, in a white bandeau bikini, the mean girl floated, laughing uncontrollably with her best friend, Katy, sitting on the stone ledge beside her.  Bradley frowned.  The idea of jumping in the pool was now overshadowed by the anxiety of having an unpleasant encounter with the duo. 

 

“The troll finally woke up,” Kristin snickered.  Bradley rolled her eyes.  She heard the same line every morning.  “What are you wearing?  I can’t believe you let people see you like that.  Go back to your cave.” 

 

The obnoxious laughing started again and Bradley walked back into her room calmly.  It was the constant bullying she endured daily. 

 

Katy Walsh was Kristin’s best friend and next door neighbor.  They were virtually inseparable and wore matching heart bracelets from Tiffany and Company engraved with the letters, “KK”.  It’s how they referred to themselves.  It was now how people referred to them and it made them feel dominant.        

 

Bradley ignored her iPhone’s vibration on the floor beside her bed as she walked by on her way to the kitchen.  Her stomach was growling, she was hot, and she was upset with herself that she didn’t beat her sister to the pool.  Not that it would have mattered; Kristin would have taken over anything Bradley did first.  It was how she functioned.   

 

Her mother had methodically decorated every inch of their house in sheer perfection.  Every room had a theme.  Every theme was unique.  The kitchen was perhaps Bradley’s favorite room.  Everything in the kitchen was black and white, except for the blood red painted walls with white trim and the stainless steel appliances.  The marble floor was comprised of large black and white squares, perhaps the boldest feature of the two story room surrounded by picture windows on two sides. 

 

Bradley emptied three times the suggested serving of her favorite cinnamon flavored shredded cereal into a large bowl.  The refrigerator housed three types of milk and she reached inside for her skim carton.  The whole milk belonged to her three year old brother, Sean. The rest of the family drank the two percent.  She poured her watery milk over the cereal until it was completely submerged and sank into one of the eight black cushion chairs that surrounded the black frosted glass kitchen table. 

 

The door from the garage to the laundry room beeped and a second later Caroline Whitfield, her two sons and their dog, Cassie appeared in the hallway just outside the kitchen.  Bradley’s mother was decorated head to toe as perfectly as her house in a coral sundress and pearl earrings, necklace and bracelet.  Her long blond hair covered Bradley’s face as she leaned down to kiss her on the check. 

 

“Good morning my beautiful eldest daughter,” she said with a smile.  Originally from Baton Rouge, her mom had been crowned Miss Teen Louisiana when she was sixteen and Bradley believed time had frozen her mother since then for she was still ravishing. 

 

Sean ran to his older sister as fast as his little feet could move, hugged her side and opened his mouth waiting to taste her food.  Sean was fourteen years younger and no doubt an unplanned addition to their family.  Bradley felt a bit of jealousy that Kristin would be off to college by the time Sean was in kindergarten and he would spend the best years of his life growing up with his parent’s attention all to himself. 

 

Perhaps the biggest mystery in the Whitfield family was Conner, Kristin’s twin brother.  He was the only one in the family that could put Kristin in her place and not pay hell for it.  Bradley and Conner got along and when he was tired of Kristin, he actually defended his older sister.  But, Conner’s attitude towards life was carefree and drama free and he thought everyone should be able to live the same way. 

 

“You missed my ball game,” Conner grabbed the orange juice container and leapt on the counter.  Conner was the most athletic and the tallest in the family, just over six feet tall.  He kept his blond hair short and his muscles toned.  He smiled.  “We won, in case you’re interested.”   

 

Bradley finished chewing her bite.  “Nobody woke me,” she answered sarcastically. 

 

“Just out of curiosity, Bradley, do you think it might be courteous to the rest of us for you to put some pants on before you leave your room?”  Caroline asked. 

 

“No air, no pants.” 

 

“It’s not even hot,” said Conner.  “I just played baseball.” 

 

She drank the milk and leftover floating pieces, got up and put her bowl in the sink.  Cassie, a soft-coated wheaten terrier, followed her.  Bradley was Cassie’s favorite.  “It’s ridiculously humid and I can’t live in these conditions.” 

 

The screen door in the kitchen opened to a large stone patio and short sidewalk to the pool.  Cassie trotted after Bradley.  She knew her arrival to the cool blue oasis was unwelcomed, as expected, when Kristin removed her sunglasses and sat up abruptly in her inflated raft. 

 

“What are you doing here in your filthy drawers?” 

 

“Cooling off,” she answered with an unruffled smile.  She didn’t often stand up to her sister, but today felt like a new day.  Bradley jumped in the middle of the pool and broke the surface to her sister’s screams.  “Come on Cassie,” she encouraged just to throw salt in the wound.  The dog cautiously stepped into the pool using the stairs and paddled to Bradley. 

 

Kristin made her way to the side of the pool and climbed out using the ladder.  Bradley thought her germs scared her sister out of the pool but quickly realized Kristin was racing for her cell phone.  She saw her sister flash a smile towards Katy before picking up the phone.  “Hello?” Bradley could tell she was trying to play it cool.  “Yeah, we’re in the back.”  Bradley heard a car door close and she froze. 

 

“Who’s here?” 

 

“None of your business,” Kristin snickered. 

 

“It’s Phil Catalano and some of his friends,” answered Katy. 

 

Bradley’s heart stopped.  She lifted Cassie onto stone patio, grabbed the wall and hoisted herself out of the water.  She saw them coming from the driveway and took off across the grass towards the other side of the house, turning her face away from them.  She cut through the bushes and clung to the house but before she made it to the front, another car turned in the driveway.  It was one of the black SUV’s she was afraid to see. 

 

The pool water was dripping down her legs and she was paralyzed with fear.  Surprisingly, the driver looked just as shocked and confused to see her standing there as she was to see him.  Knowing that a conversation had to be avoided, Bradley charged for the front door with Cassie by her side.   

 

She took the steps two by two and locked her bedroom door.  Her cell phone was ringing again and this time she picked it up desperately. 

 

“Where have you been?” her best friend Emma screamed into the phone. 

 

Cassie dried her silky mane spraying water droplets.  “I’m screwed!” Bradley yelled in a whisper.  “Phil Catalano is at my house right now and so is the black SUV!  He saw me!  He knows where I live!”  Bradley got on the floor and crawled to the bathroom.  “Emma, I’m scared.” 

 

“You should be,” her friend whispered.  “Phil Catalano kidnapped me last night.”