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Broken Wings |  |
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Broken Wings | |
Three girls from different worlds with one thing in common: They were born to be wild.
Robin...With a mom who's more absorbed in her singing career than in her own daughter, Robin's left to her own devices when the two move to Nashville. That's where her mom hopes to strike gold -- and where Robin finds nothing but trouble.
Teal...This rich girl will do anything to get her parents' attention...even break the law. But after she takes things too far for the guy she adores, Teal loses their trust completely -- and is treated like a prisoner in her own home. Now there may be only one way out.
Phoebe...She's the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, trying to make it in a fast new crowd. She moved in with her aunt to make a fresh start. But now her biggest mistake may be to trust a charming rich boy who could ruin her life and destroy her reputation forever.
Meet Robin, Teal, and Phoebe again in the exciting sequel to Broken Wings -- look for Midnight Flight, coming soon from V.C. Andrews® and Pocket Star Books!
目录
Contents
Prologue
Part One: ROBIN
Part Two: TEAL
Part Three: PHOEBE
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文摘
Chapter 1: Jerked into the Night
"Wake up, Robin!" I heard my mother say. I felt myself being rocked hard.
At first I thought the rocking was in my dream, a dream so deep I had to swim up to consciousness like a diver from the ocean floor. Each time my mother shook my shoulder, I drew closer and closer to the surface, moaning.
"Quiet!" she ordered. "You'll wake Grandpa and Grandma and I'll have my hands full of spilt milk. Darn it, Robin. I told you what time we were headin' outta here. You haven't even finished packin'," she said.
My suitcase was open on the floor, some of my clothes still beside it. Mother darling had insisted I not begin until after I supposedly went to bed last night. My mother said I couldn't bring but one suitcase of my things, and it was hard to decide what to take and not to take. She needed everything of hers because she was going to be a country singing star and had to have her outfits and all her boots and every hat as well as half a suitcase of homemade audiotapes she thought would win the admiration of an important record producer in Nashville.
I sat up and pressed my palms over my cheeks, patting them like Grandpa always did when he put on aftershave lotion. The skin on my face was still asleep and felt numb. My mother stood back and looked at me with her small nose scrunched, which was something she always did when she was very annoyed. She also twisted her full lips into her cheek. She had the smallest mouth for someone who could sing as loudly as she could, but most women envied her lips. I know that some of her friends went for collagen shots to get theirs like hers.
Everyone said we looked like sisters because I had the same petite features, the same rust-colored hair, and the same soft blue eyes. Nothing she heard pleased her more. The last thing she wanted to be known as was my mother, or anyone's mother for that matter. She was thirty-two years old this week, and she was convinced she had absol
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