The Chronicles of Fire and Ice_The Revealing Read online

  The Chronicles of Fire and Ice

  The Revealing

  Dexx Peay

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The Chronicles of Fire and Ice: The Revealing

  Copyright © 2017 Dexx Peay

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art By Najla Qamber http://najlaqamberdesigns.com/

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio http://polgarusstudio.com/

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Dedication

  Imagination is more important than knowledge

  —Albert Einstein

  This book is dedicated to SSG Thomas Mink and Robert Williams, for being great role models and teaching me to never give up.

  For my awesome brothers who have always been there for me;

  Chris G.

  Kentavian R.

  Doni M.

  Joel W.

  Matt R.

  Thank You

  Table of Contents

  The Beginning Chapter 1-Dylan

  Chapter 2-Marcus

  Chapter 3-Smokin’ Party

  Chapter 4-Decisions

  Graduation Chapter 5-My brother and Me

  Chapter 6-Project Prom

  Chapter 7-Prom

  Chapter 8-Fire and Ice

  Chapter 9-Graduation

  Chapter 10-Trouble!

  Chapter 11-Training Day

  Fresh. Meat. Chapter 12-Fight or Flight

  Chapter 13-Birthday Cake

  Chapter 14-Truth, Dare, and Lies

  Chapter 15-ASAP

  Marked Chapter 16-Ferrari

  Chapter 17-Shapes and Squiggles

  Chapter 18-Never

  Chapter 19-Not Like the Others

  Chapter 20-Holiday Blues

  The Revealing Chapter 21-Genocide

  Chapter 22-Typical College Student

  Chapter 23-Life of Dylan

  Chapter 24-Sleeping With the Enemy

  Chapter 25-Jessica’s Revenge

  Chapter 26-Eighteen Years of Lies

  The Beginning

  Chapter 1

  Dylan

  I smiled the whole way home. I was never out this late on any night, much less a school night, but this night was special. I remembered to turn the headlights off before pulling into the driveway. Instead of slamming the car door closed behind me, I eased it shut until I heard the soft click of the latch. It took both my hands to steady the key going into the lock. Twisting the doorknob, I opened it. I was five inches in when I heard the hinges squeak. Why didn’t I fix that last weekend, I thought. The infomercial of some old man selling vacuum cleaners blared from the television. Hoping it would drown out my pounding heartbeat, I headed for the stairs.

  “Dylan…,” yawned a low voice from a dark corner.

  I jumped, instantly thinking, Mom, and envisioned the remainder of my senior year becoming nonexistent.

  I murmured, “Crap,” then turned the light on—ready to take my punishment.

  Dalton, my little brother, was on the couch, squinting, knuckling the corners of his eyes. He’d been sneaking out of his room to watch horror movies and cartoons since he was seven. He looked down at his watch.

  “Dylan … Dylan … it’s 3:23 in the morning — what … I mean, ugh … do Mom and Dad know you’re out this late?” he asked.

  I sighed and released the tension in my shoulders. It would have been an ugly night had it been one of my parents on the couch instead of my brother. I walked over and took a seat next to him, patting the top of his head.

  “What Mom and Dad don’t know won’t kill them, but you on the other hand—”

  “Don’t worry, Dylan, I won’t say a word.”

  “C’mon.” I extended a hand and helped him to his feet. “Let’s clean up down here and get to bed. We got school in the morning.”

  We took a few minutes to fold the blankets, fixed the pillows, picked up the empty chip bags, and moved the table back. Dalton hit the power button and turned off the creepy guy on the T.V. I hit the light switch, and we walked upstairs.

  “Night, little brother,” I said. He nodded and walked to his room. “Dalton,” I whispered. He turned around, and I put my finger to my lips.

  “Gotcha, Dylan, not a word.” He mocked my gesture and walked into his room.

  I went into my room and gathered my things for a shower. I made it all the way to the bathroom door and stopped. I didn’t have much experience sneaking in the house but I was sure the running water from the shower would wake my parents. I could hear Mom now, “Dylan what are you doing showering at this hour?” And that would be followed by a thousand other questions. I walked back to my room, stripped down to my boxers, hopped into the bed, and forced myself to sleep.

  The sunlight slowly escaped through the blinds repelling the darkness in my room and replacing it with brightness and warmth. As it tickled my face and feet, the rising sun proceeded to ask me politely to wake up. I knew it was six in the morning because the annoying sound of my alarm clock went off at the same time Monday through Friday.

  Hoping I was dreaming, I rolled over to confirm the time. Yep. It was six and time to get my day started. I yawned, still tired from this morning. I hit the snooze button, drifted to the window, and pulled the curtains to the side.

  “Hello, New York,” I joked in my radio personality voice. “That’s right. It’s me, Dylan Perry, checking in with you guys all the way from the eight-five-four. That’s the beautiful city of Poughkeepsie for all you foreigners out there.”

  I took a moment to enjoy the fresh morning air. I greeted the neighbors, who were always up this early on their porch drinking coffee and reading the paper, with a smile. Wide-eyed, they flung the paper over their faces. I closed the curtains when I looked down and realized I was in nothing but underwear. Struggling to place one foot in front of the other, I walked out of my room to the bathroom. At the same time, Dalton was exiting his room headed in the same direction.

  “Have fun last night?” He broke out in hysteria.

  “Quiet, Dalton. You know how much trouble I would get into if Mom, or Dad particularly, found out I came in that late,” I said under my breath, looking over my shoulder.

  “Yes, I know, Dylan. You know I won’t say a word. I’ll let you go ahead and take a shower and get ready in here. I’ll go use Mom and Dad’s bathroom.”

  “Thanks, little brother,” I said, fist bumping and shuffling his messy Mohawk as I walked by.

  He was right. I knew he wouldn’t say anything. We had a good brotherly bond. I’ve always tried my best to be an example and lead him down the right path. I remember back when I was younger and for every holiday and birthday, I would ask not for a sister, but a little brother. At the age of six, my wish was granted.

  I showered, brushed my teeth, conditioned my curly locks, then went back to my room and slipped into some cargo shorts and a black fitted V-neck. After I got dressed, I went downstairs to greet my parents and took a seat at the table where my dad and brother were already seated.

  “Eggs, bacon, and biscuit for you. A Strawberry smoothie, banana, and yogurt for you, Dylan, and cereal, toast with jelly, and orange juice for my little man,” Mom
said to us.

  “Thank you,” Dalton and I said in unison.

  I finished my meal before Dad had a chance to realize there was food on the table. I tried to signal to Dalton to eat faster before the interrogation started.

  “Pick a college yet, son?” Dad said, holding the morning paper in front of his face.

  “What about a major?” Mom chimed. The very conversation I was trying to avoid. The same routine every day: we all sit, eat, and discuss Dylan’s future. It was irritating every time they wanted to play twenty-one questions.

  “I’ve decided Florida State University,” I said. Mom’s pale white skin glowed with joy.

  “I didn’t even know you applied to that school,” she said, trying to hide her pearly white teeth. Her mouth was tight, itching to smile. “I’m so proud…”

  Before she could finish her sentence, “Psych,” rolled out of my mouth. Dalton and I laughed, hi-fiving under the table.

  The look of disappointment took over her face. She picked around at her plate like she was a child avoiding her vegetables.

  “Dylan.” Dad crinkled his paper and peeped over the corner. “College isn’t a joke. In four weeks, you’ll be graduating high school and experiencing life as a young adult. You have a damn bajillion acceptance letters and your mom and I spent a lot of money to take you on all those tours. You need to pick which college you will be attending so we can prepare, and you already know what school has my vote.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Yep!” I grabbed my book bag and grabbed Dalton by the back of the shirt, dropping his toast in the process of a bite. “That’s my cue to leave,” I said. I love my parents but sometimes they just talk too much, and this whole college thing was getting out of hand. They were more stressed about it than I was.

  I went to the driveway and popped the trunk to my new jet-black Altima. My parents bought it as an early graduation gift at the start of senior year. I threw my backpack in the trunk and Dalton threw his in as well.

  Every morning before I went to school, I picked up my best friend Marcus Peterson, or Macchiato as everyone at school knew him, and his little brother, Elias. I sent him a text message when I pulled up to his house.

  “You look rough, Dill,” Marcus said to me as he walked up and peeked in the window. His voice always sounded as if he has a sore throat, but it’s just naturally dark and raspy. I’d joke, saying he sounded like he smoked a couple packs a day.

  “You know the drill, Dalton,” he said.

  Marcus opened the door and Dalton and Elias got into the back seats. Marcus hopped in the front and slouched over. His horrible posture was uncomfortable to witness. Marcus and I are almost complete opposites but very alike in many ways. He runs track and plays golf, while I play basketball. I love sushi but he prefers his fish cooked. The biggest difference was our popularity. Despite us landing on two different social paths entering high school, he was still my best friend. Guess his nerdy personality and inability to hold a conversation with the opposite sex, gave people more than enough reasons to look past him; add in the fact he’s always dressed in dingy athletic gear, the kids in school just made fun of him even more.

  “Well hello to you too, Marc. If you must know, I spent my night with Jessica at the park for a romantic walk down by the lake. Didn’t get home until 3:30 last night,” I boasted.

  “3:23 to be precise,” Dalton interjected as he pushed his way up to the front seats.

  “Dalton, shut up, and what did I tell you about your seat belt?” I growled at the rearview mirror.

  Marcus barked at her name and rolled his eyes.

  “I still can’t understand why you two could never just get along,” I said, driving off.

  “Uhhh, because she hates me and is bent on making my life a living hell like half the other kids at school,” Marcus said.

  “You’re just misunderstood that’s all. Once people get to know you, they’ll like you.”

  “PSH students base popularity on your household income. I’ve barely got a house. And besides, we’ve been in the same school for how many years now?”

  Marcus was known for stressing about every situation but he had a point—money, cars, clothes, and extracurricular activities pretty much determined your social status.

  Knowing the truth behind his words, I stared straight ahead and jokingly said, “Well, in a few weeks we’ll be walking across that stage and before you know it, you’ll be at Harvard University starting a new life.”

  “That’s if I get in and get enough money to cover my tuition. I still don’t know what is taking so long for a damn letter. I should have gotten it already. I was lucky enough to even get an interview. Have you decided yet?”

  “I’ve gotten a few acceptance letters, but I haven’t decided. As long as I get to go to college, I’ll be happy.”

  Marcus shook his head as the right side of his mouth sank. He turned on the radio and ended the conversation.

  First, we pulled up to the middle school located near our high school and dropped the boys off at the front entrance. “See ya guys later,” I called out to them. We pulled up to our student parking lot next, which was always a party first thing in the morning. Homeroom was the first period of the day, and as it was assigned alphabetically, therefore, Marcus and I had the same teacher. As the 7:30 bell rang, Mrs. Sampson took roll making sure no students were tardy. The remainder of the twenty-five minutes was used for small chit-chat, latest gossip, laughter, and finishing homework people forgot from the night before.

  First-period Advanced English with Mr. Green was next. He immediately resumed our discussion on Beowulf. The story reminded me of when I was a kid and would play with action figures. I would always make myself a superhero that had super strength and could fly like Superman. To this day, I still wished I could fly.

  We separated to our next classes after—AP Chemistry and Advance Theatre for myself and Trigonometry and Latin IV for Marcus. Marcus always took advanced classes, pushing his brain past human limits. He was determined to be somebody and believed it started with Harvard. I’d been praying since we were kids that he got in with enough money to cover his expenses.

  Between morning and afternoon classes, seniors had an extended lunch period. Marcus and I met up every day at that time.

  “Macchiato, Dill. Over here you guys.” The harsh-cool voice of Trey called out as we walked into the senior lounge.

  “It’s Trey,” Marcus said, nodding in Trey’s direction.

  We walked over and took a seat at the table with him. Trey took off his letterman jacket and held a bag of chips over his mouth, lightly tapping the bottom.

  “Party. Tonight. My house. Don’t forget.” Trey spat out potatoes with each word.

  “Don’t you get tired of wearing that jacket? It’s not even football season,” Marcus said.

  “Of course we’ll be there.” I nudged Marcus.

  “Jessica too?” Trey asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll ask her. I’m sure she will.”

  “Umm … speaking of Jessica…” Marcus said hesitantly, fishing in his pants, then threw a folded piece of paper at me. “Here you go.”

  Jessica’s scent—cherry blossoms—streaked through the air. Jessica and Marcus shared two classes together. At times we would send notes through Marcus since we didn’t share any classes. The two of them were entertaining around each other.

  Immediately I snatched the note and unfolded it. Gusts of cherry blossoms attacked my nostrils as I unfolded each crease—a constant reminder of her. She was like Poison Ivy—the girl everybody wanted, hated, and feared with unique abilities to make me lust over her.

  Her silvery voice echoed in my head and spoke to me as if she read the words herself:

  Dill Pickle,

  So much fun with you last night. Sad to say my mom caught me trying to sneak in. I told her I was with Jenny and Marcia. I had a feeling that if she knew I was with you, she would blame you and not allow us to go to prom to
gether. As a punishment, I was grounded and my cell phone was taken away for 2 weeks. I guess that’s not too bad since we still get to go to prom together. I will meet you at your car after school. Have a great rest of the day.

  Hugs and tons of kisses, Jessica

  I was upset yet relieved. Upset that she got caught but relieved she didn’t rat me out and ruin prom.

  “Well, looks like Jessica won’t be in attendance tonight, boys,” I said, folding the note back. I goofed around with the boys for a little before grabbing a chicken sandwich and a bag of cookies for lunch.

  The rest of my day dragged until my final class—Home Economics. It was an entertaining class and served as a break between the advanced science and math classes I took. Out of twenty-three students in the class, twenty of them were girls.

  Murmurs and whispers filled the class as the guys and I walked in.

  I took my seat in the back with my usual partner Amanda—the shy and quiet girl everyone loved.

  “Hey, Amanda.” I sat my books down on the table.

  She closed her books and faced me, her wide brown eyes gleaming for the heavy lights of the kitchen. “How’s it going?”

  “The usual.”

  A shiver started in her arms and ran down her thin legs, her knees bucking under the table. She sealed her thin lips together and tightly hugged her body. Her milky skin faded to a pasty blue. I looked outside and thought to myself, it’s eighty-five degrees outside and it feels great inside.

  “You’re shivering,” I laughed.

  “Cold. That’s all.” Her teeth chattered.

  “What do you mean? Feels amazing.”

  Our teacher began class as soon as the bell rung. “Your recipes should be complete by now. Go ahead and get started.”