The Nerd has a Secret (GxG)

Chapter One

C H A P T E R   O N E
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D Y L A N

People say we aren't born inherently bad or good, but I don't think that's true. I think a lot of people are born good, but some are born bad, like how some of us can see color and others can't, or how some are happy and others aren't. I was born to be bad, to break rules and break hearts, to hurt people for the fun of it, to feel no remorse for my actions.

Everyone not living under a rock has heard of my parents, Carter and Nora Brookes. They're two of the most dangerous criminals to exist in the past fifty years, even though they've only been known as criminals for about twenty. Carter Brookes, my father, is a prostitute and high-end thief, having pulled off countless of heists, bringing in well over fifty billion dollars in the past couple years. My mother Nora is well known as the kingpin or leader of the largest and most powerful crime organization in America—the Breighton Brookes. My entire extended family either works for or with one of my parents, so needless to say, I was born into a life of crime, born to be the 'bad guy', and I have loved every moment of it.

Nearly.

Before the end of year ten in Secondary School, my sophomore year, as Americans call it, one heist in particular didn't go as well as planned. My parents and I, plus some extended-family/employees, were all stationed inside the most renowned English bank, Ainsley Bank. Our intercoms were cut off due to the security feed inside, a risk we were willing to take, though perhaps a poorly calculated one. By the time we'd managed to hack into the system to transfer funds as well as open the gold safe, the cops were already on their way. My parents' and Uncle Abraham's faces were plastered everywhere, and our names on everyone's feed. Because of the countless heists we've pulled, heists costing England, France, Germany, and America billions, our names are now well-established, we're just as popular as a lot of pop stars and singers, but not in a good way. And now everyone knows our names, including my own. Dylan Brookes.

Well, it's not my name. Not anymore, and it hasn't been the last two and a half years. After that heist my parents ran off and my Uncle Abraham was put under arrest. He got caught to save me after I'd tripped a wire that triggered a silent alarm, one that told the cops exactly where we were hiding. He took the damage for me, and thanks to outside connections, I was put on the first plane to the Colonies—Americas, whatever. But now I'm living in America, the land of the free-loading and selfish. My apologies, the land of the free. Regardless of my distaste for Americans (mostly because of their infatuation with English people and the way they react to my 'accent', though they have yet to consider that to me, they're the ones with accents) I will admit it's rather easy to get away with small crimes. Of course, it's always been, but they're never too concerned with me shoplifting for the fun of it. Granted, my new identity could have something to do with that.

Because I couldn't very well go around calling myself 'Dylan Brookes' and dressing as I do, I had to take on a whole new name and identity (plus wardrobe) when I moved to the Colonies. America. I took the maiden name of my Auntie Debbie, and now I'm known as Danielle Blake, and sticking to the 'boy's name' thing my parents started, I go by Dani. Of course, a simple name-change would be far from enough to conceal my identity. I had to completely reinvent myself for the sake of my safety (and freedom), even at the cost of my pride and dignity. Dani Blake isn't anything like Dylan Brookes—she's quiet, and polite, and nerdy, and good. She was born good, it's in her nature, and she was nurtured to be as good as anyone could be. A quiet and logical girl who's scared of her own shadow and let's others push her and order her around. Nothing like me, nothing like me at all.

My nerdy facade obviously came with some clear instructions. Be quiet, courteous, polite, the opposite of who I really am. Show up to class every day and earn high marks, even though Dylan Brookes rarely went to school, and on the off-chance I didn't skip, it was to hook up with  someone. She...she didn't skip, not 'I'. I can't afford to think of a criminal as myself, nor can I think of 'Danielle Blake' as a stupid girl. She's me now, and I can't think of her—me—in the third person.