The Secret
Authors: Taryn A. Taylor
Table of Contents
Copyright
THE SECRET
Copyright
© 2013 - Taryn A. Taylor
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserve above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business estrablishments, locales is entirely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party web sites or their content.
Managing editor - Amanda Meuwissen
Associate editor - Deborah Hanks
Associate editor - Wendy Herman
Book layout/Cover design - Mario Hernandez
Model - Victoria Solberg
A
BigWorldNetwork.com
Book
Published by BigWorldNetwork.com, LLC
202 North Rock Road | 1303 | Wichita | KS | 67206
www.bigworldnetwork.com
First U.S. Edition: March 2013
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To my husband,
Mark Taylor
,
for never letting me give up.
I love you!
And to my four, miraculous boys:
Daniel
,
Grant
,
Jacob
,
and
Benjamin
.
Always remember that you can do anything
you set your mind to! Dream big and
then make those dreams happen!
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements
Most importantly, thank you to God,
for making all things possible in my life.
I have to tell my husband how much I appreciate all the hours he watched our four, wonderful boys! And thank you for always being willing to give me great advice on where I could put in a zombie apocalypse. Seriously, I could not have written
The Secret
without your unflinching support.
My parents, Joan and Chad Anderson, you gave me the gift of believing I could do anything I set my mind to! Thank you! I love you!
Amanda Meuwissen, my miraculous editor at BigWorldNetwork.com. You championed my work from the get go. You put in countless hours of editing and fixing and making the final product so perfect. Thank you!
Wendy Herman, associate editor and narrator for the series at BigWorldNetwork.com, thank you so much for lending your talents, and for bringing these characters to life with your voice.
Jim McGovern at BigWorldNetwork.com. Without your vision,
The Secret
never would have come into existence. Thank you!
My writing peeps—Jo Schneider, for thoroughly going over every episode I sent her way and for always giving me stellar feedback, especially where my blocking and ninja moves were concerned. Sandra Poole, for our creative sessions! You are a plotting Jedi! And all the Dave Wolverton writing clan: Tony, Bob, Jordan, Jane— 2 million dollar club, baby!
To my sister, Alisa, for your enthusiasm about every single episode! You have no idea how much that means to me.
And to all my friends and family for reading and supporting me! Thank you!
by Taryn A. Taylor
Twelve, young person’s themes suitable only for readers of twelve years and older.
BigWorldNetwork.com
Kansas
Episode 1: First Day
“I…I’m from back east.” I should have anticipated this question on my first day of school. Of course they would ask. And I wasn’t the best liar. Usually I practiced in front of the mirror a few times to make sure I didn’t break eye contact or blink too much.
Mr. Drake, my first period English teacher, looked over his glasses and shut the book he held loosely out in front of him. “I imagine the town you are from had a name?”
I bit my bottom lip, trying not to illicit blood. “The Boston area.” Why didn’t I just say Boston? It’s not like anybody would care.
Mr. Drake raised his eyebrows. “Okay.” Hesitating for a second, he squinted slightly, holding my gaze for a moment longer than I was comfortable with.
I started talking too quickly. “My mom took a job out here to be closer to my grandparents.” That was true, at least partly true. “And we like to hike, so Colorado seemed like a good fit.” The lies seemed to come easier now. I was trying to sound cliché. Why did most people move to a place like Colorado? Most of them must like the outdoors. “And my brother really likes to ski.” Okay, that was a bold-faced lie, but when would anyone meet my older, semi-geek brother? He was even less coordinated than I was, if that could be possible.
Mr. Drake stepped around the back of the classroom and glided easily in between desks, maneuvering toward me. “Uh-huh. And, what are your other hobbies—besides the hiking of course.” Stopping at his desk, he put his book down and cleared his throat.
Was I really that bad of a liar? His throat clearing had me on edge. “Um,” I muttered pushing my too red, too long, curly hair out of my face. I kicked myself for not cutting it before I moved here, the heaviness of it felt oppressive.
“Sketching.” An ounce of truth had finally come out of my mouth. I regretted it instantly, feeling almost naked for revealing something that I really, truly loved and couldn’t possibly take any criticism or triteness over. “But I don’t…show anybody.” I looked away, hating the red blotches I knew were forming on my neck.
Mr. Drake paused then nodded his head like he had decided something about me. “Ahh—well, art is something that tends to be deeply personal, isn’t it?” He turned to the class and gestured dramatically to my seat. “Thank you, Ms. Hart. Or do you prefer Delaney?” He looked at the new student sheet on his desk.
Careful not to tromp on the outstretched legs of the guy who sat in front of me, I slid into my seat. “Lanie. Just Lanie.” Immediately, I reached for my backpack and pulled out a hair band. I always kept one stuffed in the front pocket, knowing my hair had to be contained. Stupid hair.
The guy in front of me turned slightly, looking at me with a half-grin on his face. His dark hair hung barely below his ears and seemed to jut out a little around his face. I was instantly captured by the way the light from the window made the color of his eyes look like pools of water in the ocean. My heart sped up a notch and I felt even more self-conscious than moments before when I’d been up in front of the class. I tried to smile back at him.
Tilting his head up in acknowledgment, he whispered, “I like your hair.”
Shocked that he seemed to know what I’d been thinking, I touched my hair and looked closer at him. How had he known that I was thinking how much I hated it?
Grinning broadly at me and lightly tapping his pencil, he turned to give his full attention to Mr. Drake.
“
I hope you are all ready to turn in your book reports tomorrow. Remember to make sure you have properly deconstructed what it means to be the hero in your story and how it relates to the antihero…”
