THE BOY I WAS TOLD TO HATE

I had heard his name long before I ever saw his face. Adrian Varela. My father hated that name. “Stay away from the Varela family,” he always warned me. “They are dangerous.” I never understood why. Until Monday morning. I was walking across campus when a black car stopped near the entrance. A tall boy stepped out, dressed completely in black. His dark eyes scanned the crowd before suddenly stopping on me. My heart skipped. He walked straight toward me. “Hale,” he said quietly. I frowned. “Do I know you?” A faint smile touched his lips. “You know my family.” Before I could answer, he walked away. My friend grabbed my arm. “Ethan, that's Adrian Varela.” I stared after him. The boy I had been told to hate had just looked at me like he already knew my deepest secret. “Wait,” I whispered. “Why does he know my name?” Daniel looked nervous. “Because your father and his family have history.” “What kind of history?” He shook his head. “I don't know. But you should stay away from him.” I looked across the campus again. Adrian was standing near the library, talking to someone. Suddenly, he turned around. Our eyes met once more. This time, he didn't smile. Instead, he slowly raised a finger to his lips, as if warning me to keep quiet. A cold feeling settled in my chest. I didn't know what secret he was hiding. But I knew one thing. I was already curious.