Free Circle of Secrets by Kimberley Griffiths Little Page A

funny.”
    Alyson said Tara is the prettiest girl in sixth grade. I guess it’s true because she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.
    “So who’s the girl behind Tara? She must have been in a terrible accident.”
    Alyson frowns at her paper. “Don’t know. Just some girl.”
    “She’s sitting right behind your own best friend!”
    Alyson’s eyes flick away as we head into social studies and Mrs. Daigle starts passing out books, enlisting the help of Jett and Tara. “Can’t remember. She was new last year.”
    The next moment, Tara stands in front of me and drops a thick textbook on my desk. Her eyes are so green I swear she received a set of emeralds at birth.
    “World studies. We’re gonna be learning about Egypt and Rome and China.” She’s so cool and elegant. Like she’s already grown-up or something.
    “World History through the Ages,” I say, reading the book’s title.
    Alyson turns around in her seat, jumping into the conversation. “This is Shelby, Tara. And, Shelby, this here is Tara, like I told you a minute ago.”
    “Where you from, Shelby?” Tara asks.
    “New Iberia.”
    Her green eyes narrow at me, like she’s already figured me out. “Thought you were some city girl. Why you here?”
    I’m surprised at the way she says it, as though I’m not supposed to be here. As though she needs to give me permission first.
    Tara gives her head a little shake. “I mean, where do you live?”
    “Uh, sort of near the swamp.”
    “Near the swamp, huh? Near or in?”
    A bell rings and my stomach gives a little jump. “What’s that?”
    “Morning recess,” Alyson says, jumping up to get in the front of the line at the door.
    Tara puts a hand on Alyson’s arm. “When the end of recess bell rings, we gotta come right back to the classroom. You’re bad about that and I don’t want detention.”
    Alyson makes a funny face. “You’ve never had detention in your life, Tara Doucet.”
    “That’s right. And I intend to keep it that way.”
    The class stampedes out the door and I slowly follow, wondering what I’ll do during my first recess here. Don’t know if they play games or have a jungle gym or tetherball or hopscotch.
    I barely take two steps into the hallway when suddenly, standing right in front of me, is the scarred girl from my class. Goose bumps prickle along my arms. I wish I could stop staring at her face, but I can’t. Her skin is red and crinkled around the scar. Looks awful, like it hurts bad.
    “You should stay away from them,” she tells me, her voice dropping. She moves closer and her arms are so skinny, I wonder if she’s eaten in a week.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You heard me.”
    Her hair is brown and thin and floats in a spray around her head. The sides are held down with a row of plain black clips. Which remind me of someone, but I can’t remember who it is.
    “Stay away from who?”
    “Alyson Granger and Tara Doucet. Don’t talk to them. Don’t have lunch with them. Pretend they don’t exist.”
    I take a gulp. “But why? They seem nice.”
    “It’s dangerous, believe me.”
    She’s so intense, I get a spidery feeling in my stomach. Then she steps closer. “And whatever you do, don’t go to the cemetery pier with them.”
    I take a step backward. “What cemetery pier? Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    She glances around as if she’s terrified someone will hear her. She’s also clutching her world history textbook in her arms like she forgot to leave it in the classroom. Maybe she reads it for fun during recess. But I notice that her arms are trembling a little bit so I also feel sorry for her. I don’t know whether to hug her or tell her to get lost.
    “It’s this stupid secret the kids in this town have,” she whispers. “But ssh! Bad things happen at that cemetery pier.If I tell you any more, they’ll make my life miserable. But I had to warn you.”
    I feel her fear and my own fear level rises, too, when