Post by Ernst Robel on Nov 5, 2009 2:23:17 GMT -5
Alright, so I have written a book. And edited it. And finally, I have gritted my teeth and written a letter to an agent. But I'm not sure if it is in good enough shape to send. So, I thought, maybe I could get some feedback here?
And maybe not. But we'll see. Even a simple 'I would totally read that!' or 'This looks boring,' would be helpful at this point.
A Game of Wits is the first book in a trilogy of the same name. The second book is called Wit's End, and the third, Shatter Theory. A Game of Wits is a Young Adult fantasy, one that tells a story of children running through hoops in dangerous pocket dimensions, all for the amusement of want-to-be gods. One of the things that makes A Game of Wits different from other Young Adult fantasies is that high school stereotypes have no place in the bloody game at the heart of this story. No matter how good their grades, how high their social status, not all of characters will be coming home at the end of the day. No character has an easy road, and decisions are categorized, not by the right or wrong choice, but by which choice will further them in their goals. A Game of Wits is told, not through the hero's eyes, but by the boy everyone else has pegged as the first to die.
Our main character is Cody Burune, a shy, easily intimidated boy who just wants to get through high school unnoticed. Though perhaps if the new girl looks his way, that would be nice. The dreams change everything. The mysterious Grey Lady brings six almost-strangers together, promising glory if only they can be the first to the finish line. Too bad that they are up against five other teams, who have been training to be heartless for the last year. As the others discover gifts they were never supposed to have, Cody tries to figure out where he fits in this Game of Wits, this challenge that smiles like suicide.
I am a sixteen year old girl from a small coastal town in British Columbia, Canada. A Game of Wits is my first novel.
(first ten pages)
Pro*logue (pro’log) n. 1 a speech or poem addressed to the audience by one of the actors at the beginning of a play, opera, ect. 2 an introduction to a novel, poem, or other literary work. 3 any introductory act or event.
Black. White. Shifting... Shades of grey.
Kings. Queens. Bishops.
Pawns.
The board is set, and the two battle-ready armies stare each other down across the checkered field. The white queen smiles fiercely, safe behind her row of pawns, whom she chose before they were even born. Now she has brought them here, to die thousands of miles from home.
The black king raises a hand, and the two armies charge, meeting with a resounding crash. People scream, bodies fall. No one is spared- even the headstrong young queen loses her smile, as her escorts collapse around her. And the pawns continue to fight for something they have never believed in.
Their forces are felled the fastest.
The battle, though brutal, ends quickly. And when the survivors come out of their bloodlust thrall, all the royals lay dead. Seven pawns, from both white and black armies, stare at each other in amazement. They are the only ones. There is no one else left.
One hundred years later, the seven meet again. No longer divided by just two colors, they have split into seven separate entities, still filled to the brim with the power their queens had bestowed them. Increased thousand-fold by the years of practice the powers had bestowed them. Granting them immortality. If these seven died, then the ageless powers died with them- so they gifted their carriers with godlike powers.
And gods they became.
But the powers were restless. They wanted to fight, to prove their worth against worthy opponents. Normal humans were below them. All they had was each other. Their enemies.
Then one came up with the Game.
When one lives forever, names are easily forgotten. Now, the seven former pawns were known only as the colors their powers present themselves as.
Grey. Black. White. Green. Blue. Red. Purple.
It was Grey who thought of the game. Black, Grey's biggest rival, was first to agree. The other five, surprised by the fact that this was the first time these two had agreed since the Beginning-War, all followed suit.
The game started over two millennia, taking place over years and years... A decade ago, the last one ended.
It is time for the next round of The Game. For new pieces, new teams. New betrayal, upsets, scandals.
It is time for A Game of Wits. What this one holds in store is something not even the gods can foretell.
Be*gin*ning (bi gin’ing) n., adj. -n. 1 a start. 2 the time when anything begins. 3 the first part. 4 a first cause; source; origin.
Where does a beginning start?
(not in the middle, that's for sure)
But who is to judge where one thing stops, and another begins? (the world is round, and we will follow suit)
If so, does that mean that there was only ever one beginning?
(only one end, as well, when all is dead and gone)
And what came before that?
(dust and ashes and ashes and dust)
Questions, and Answers, and cold dark nothing.
-Cody Burune
I wouldn’t blame her for what happened. Hell, we all messed up, too many times to count. Just because she was the first, doesn’t mean she deserves the blame. And all the ‘what if’s, the questions voiced in the middle of the night when it’s hard to remember there are reasons for the sun to rise? They’re not her fault, either. No matter what happened that day, it wouldn’t have changed anything. There’s no doubt about that.
So why try to lay the blame on other shoulders?
I mean, when you’re carrying the weight of the world, there’s no reason to search for more to hold.
New students were a fairly common occurrence at my high school. It was a large one in a still-developing neighborhood, so no one seemed to take particular notice of one new grade eight appearing just after Christmas break.
I admit that I only noticed her because of the book she was reading. She had a paperback version of The Odyssey tucked into her binder when she walked into our Science class. And though I knew first impressions were always misleading, I felt as if maybe I had a kindred spirit in her. She must like poetry just a little, if she was reading Homer. I myself had devoured both of his works, and they acted as my muses when my inspiration ran dry, as it often did. So I found myself instantly intrigued by this girl.
One of the boys sitting behind me snickered to his friend about the girl’s odd clothing, but I couldn’t find the courage to turn around and tell them to stuff it. Instead I shrunk down, wishing I wasn’t such a coward. The girl walked right by, pretending not to notice the two assholes, but her cheeks were more red than they had been when she walked in.
Her clothes were unusual, it was true. But nothing outright ridiculous. Long, dark brown hair was tied back into two high pigtails at the back of her head, and her earrings were long chains with what looked like miniature dice dangling from the ends. Her shirt was ripped horizontally all down the front and back, showing off a plain white shirt underneath, and her jeans were ripped in the knees, with trailing hems and writing all over them in a scrawled hand. Personally, I thought it looked unique. But then, I’ve never really been on the same wavelength as the rest of my peers.
There was shuffling behind me while she arranged herself, as Mr. Stirling got back to his lesson. When I chanced a look behind me, though, I noticed she was staring awfully intently at her textbook, eyes flashing back and forth across the pages too quickly to be catching up on the digestive system, no matter how riveting it was. I turned back towards the front, a knowing smile on my lips. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one who read while I was supposed to be working.
“Oi, Cody!”
I turned around, wondering who was hailing me down. It was just after Science, and I was grabbing my lunch out of my locker so I could hurry and take advantage of the rare sunny day we were having. Contrary to popular belief, even though I lived in Western Canada, it didn’t snow too often. Just rained. And in January, a sunny day like this was priceless.
A kid who I recognized from my English class- Jeremy, I think- was smiling at me. I returned the favor, hesitant. Jeremy wasn't technically in my grade, but having been placed a year ahead in said class, I tried to keep to myself, instead of consorting with he older kids. But this guy wasn't too bad. It was common knowledge that he liked any joke at another's expense. So, though I respected him, I didn't entirely trust him.
“Hey. What’s up?”
He clapped me on the back, as if we were the best pals, slouching slightly so we were around the same height. Usually, he was almost a head taller than me.
“You’ve got a new girl in your Science class, right?”
I looked at him in confusion. “Well, yeah. So?”
He was still smiling, though it was starting to look a bit strained. “I was just wondering if you remembered her name, by any chance.”
Blinking stupidly, I tried to think. Had the teacher said it, and I just hadn’t been paying attention? Or had she slipped away without introducing herself? “I, ah, actually couldn’t say what she said her name was. Why don’t you go ask her yourself?”
The grin on his lips had taken on a condescending tilt, mixed with disgust he didn't bother to hide. “I can’t just go up and ask her. How rude is that?” It was obvious to me that he thought he was a wonderful gentleman. “But no one seems to have a clue.”
I shrugged. “Sorry.”
He just rolled his eyes at me as he walked away. I frowned as I turned back towards my locker. An odd conversation, for sure. And the annoyance Jeremy had expressed seemed much harsher than any of the care he had thrown my way before. In fact, that was probably the first conversation we had really ever had.
So caught up in this was I, that I didn't even think to wonder at his interest in the new girl at all.
Fore*bod*ing (for bo’ding) n.1 a prediction;warning. 2 a feeling that something bad is going to happen.
When the clock stops
(tick, tock, tick)
Shivers roll through
(breath in, breath out)
And fingers grasp
(twitch with the stress)
Wondering what today's curse will bring
(rest, and hold)
-Cody Burune
By the time I had gotten outside, I had forgotten all about Jeremy, the new girl, and school in general. Even I have a hard time trying to be negative when the sun is shining in January. The day was still winter-sharp, however, and the cold sent a shiver straight up my spine. My mind flickered to the old superstition, and my mouth twitched into a half-smile. Someone just walked over my grave. Or a ghost had just passed through me. But even those thoughts, in the bright daylight, faded and drifted apart in the light wind. By the time I had reached the trees marking the end of school property, my fingers were already itching for a pencil to try and capture the frozen beauty of this mock-summer day.
I stepped under the forest’s cool shadow, and shivered again. Humming slightly, I hurried to a small meadow that was only a five-minute foray from the well-tread trail. The meadow always had signs of people, be it candy wrappers or beer bottles, but no one went there during lunch, and there was a nicely sized rock that never stayed damp for long, even in the winter. It was the perfect place for writing.
A couple of my friends had come with me at first, at the beginning of the year, when we were fresh out of elementary school, and excited to even be allowed off the grounds at lunch. But none of them really liked it when it started getting cold, until gradually it was only me. They hadn't talked to me in a month now. Nothing in common. It surprised me when I found I didn’t really mind.
I suppose I should have expected as much. Because I like being invisible.
That day, as I ate, the new girl was still in the back of my mind. I wrote of crippled wings and fear of flight, but my guess was that when the new girl had first decided to open her wings, she never once thought of the possibility of falling.
I walked into my next class with a frown on my face. I didn’t particularly enjoy Gym. And it wasn't even that I disliked the physical activity that it entailed. I just thought that it was rather stupid that we were being graded by how badly we could pound our classmates in any given sport, then smile and tell the losers how wonderful they played. Especially since I was on the younger half of a grade split here. So every mistake earned you a round of catcalls from the older students.
Today, because of the sun, the teachers decided we were going to play a full game of soccer, which made everyone happy. Before we had left for Christmas break, the teachers had been threatening a month of square dancing if the weather got ugly. As the older kids started arguing over teams, I noticed that the new girl was in my Gym class, too. She had toned down her outfit for gym class, but she was still wearing her dice earrings. I smiled shyly at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was busy watching the rest of the class sort out the teams, eyes flickering back and forth as they took in the full scene. Then, as if she could feel my staring, her head turned, and our gazes met. She smiled , but I didn’t even notice, too drawn in by her eyes. There was something wrong, something dark hidden just beyond those sky blue orbs. I wanted to reach out and hold her tight, just to make sure she was still there. And I didn’t know why.
She walked over to me, the smile slipping from her lips. Now, her mouth was pursed in what might have been concern. Understandable, since I'm sure my face had heated up when she looked at me, reddening until it resembled a stop sign in color.
“Are you okay?”
Her voice wasn’t what I had expected. For some reason, I had imagined it to be soft and dreamy, like her eyes. But her voice brought to mind a spring storm, instead. Light and sharp. Realizing I had been staring for long enough to appear creepy, I ducked my head, and focused on the ground.
“I’m fine.”
The words came out too fast for my mouth to handle. I don't even think what I said made sense.
She was silent for a moment, and I squirmed, still staring at the ground. Then she laughed- high bells chiming in the winds. It wasn’t really the sound I was expecting. I looked up at her in confusion, to find that she had stepped even closer. Rocking back on my heels in surprise, her hand shot out and grabbed my arm, steadying me. We were, I realized, almost exactly the same height.
The closed space between me and her seemed to fry the words on my tongue. Finding my voice, I managed to it spit out. “What’s your name, again?”
Which was really not what I was going to ask. It had slipped out before my brain had time to rein the thought in. To my horror, I felt my cheeks heat even more, but she was still smiling, so I guess my less-than polite approach didn’t bother her much.
“Sammei. You were in my Science class this morning, right? What’s yours?”
“Cody,” I answered, nodding, and tried a small smile of my own.
“Nice to meet you, Cody.” She looked like she was going to say more, but our teacher chose that moment to blow his whistle, drowning out any conversation we could have had.
The weather seemed to affect everyone's attitude. Less catcalls all around, making for an enjoyable game. I even managed to not make too much of a fool of myself.
The class ended with all of us returning inside, short of breath and still arguing about the last goal. I was walking behind the rest of the crowd, not really paying attention to the disagreement. When Sammei came up behind me and tapped my shoulder, I jumped about a foot. She laughed again, while I chuckled along and pretended I wasn’t embarrassed.
“You know,” she said, once she had calmed down. We were right in front of the two change room doors, and she was about to disappear into the girl’s one. “I think I might really like you, Cody.”
She gave me one last wave, and I spun around so she wouldn’t see that my blush had risen another notch.
I searched for Sammei fervently in Math, which was my last class of the day. When the bell rang, and she hadn’t come in, I found myself utterly disappointed, and disgusted with myself because of it. She was, after all, the only thing I had really thought about all day. I put her out of my mind, letting it instead fill up with numbers, equations, and pi. When the bell rang, it took me a moment to emerge from my math-induced stupor. By the time I had walked out of the school’s front door, all of the first buses had left, and the school had become deserted- a ghost town. I shrugged my backpack, empty of homework, for once, onto my shoulders, and headed down the hill towards town. My house was too close to the school to be on any bus routes, and Aaron and Amy, my road-rage siblings, wouldn’t be caught dead giving a ride to their loser kid brother. I didn’t really mind walking, though. Not usually.
I didn’t even see the people walking in front of me until he started yelling. I looked up, searching for the disturbance, and my eyes found the lone guy 30 or so meters ahead of me. Far enough off that I didn’t recognize him, at first.
“Will you calm down and let go of me?” I could hear the words even clearer now, and I began walking faster, wanting to see what would happen.
“Please, if you’ll just listen!”
I hadn’t seen the girl until she had spoken. She was practically hanging off of the guy’s jacket, frizzy hair in disarray, making her look like a crazy. The guy was looking at her in shock and annoyance, while his fingers were busy attempting to pry the girl’s hands from his front. As I neared them, the boy's face clicked in my memory. This was Dante Hamon, and he was our athletic department’s golden boy. He was captain of all of the junior sports teams, and played on some senior teams as well. No one in the student body didn’t know him.
Dante had succeeded in escaping the girl’s death grip, and was hurrying away from her, his back to the road as he headed down the hill. She ran after him, pleading for him to listen, for just a second.
A truck came screeching around the corner, tires screaming as it swerved. We never did hear if the driver was drunk, or trying to avoid a small critter that had happened to be on the road, or one of the many other possibilities. All I process at that moment was that Dante stood there, stunned, eyes widening as the truck neared, heading straight for him. I was too far away, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even tear my eyes away from Dante’s horror-filled face.
And maybe not. But we'll see. Even a simple 'I would totally read that!' or 'This looks boring,' would be helpful at this point.
A Game of Wits is the first book in a trilogy of the same name. The second book is called Wit's End, and the third, Shatter Theory. A Game of Wits is a Young Adult fantasy, one that tells a story of children running through hoops in dangerous pocket dimensions, all for the amusement of want-to-be gods. One of the things that makes A Game of Wits different from other Young Adult fantasies is that high school stereotypes have no place in the bloody game at the heart of this story. No matter how good their grades, how high their social status, not all of characters will be coming home at the end of the day. No character has an easy road, and decisions are categorized, not by the right or wrong choice, but by which choice will further them in their goals. A Game of Wits is told, not through the hero's eyes, but by the boy everyone else has pegged as the first to die.
Our main character is Cody Burune, a shy, easily intimidated boy who just wants to get through high school unnoticed. Though perhaps if the new girl looks his way, that would be nice. The dreams change everything. The mysterious Grey Lady brings six almost-strangers together, promising glory if only they can be the first to the finish line. Too bad that they are up against five other teams, who have been training to be heartless for the last year. As the others discover gifts they were never supposed to have, Cody tries to figure out where he fits in this Game of Wits, this challenge that smiles like suicide.
I am a sixteen year old girl from a small coastal town in British Columbia, Canada. A Game of Wits is my first novel.
(first ten pages)
Pro*logue (pro’log) n. 1 a speech or poem addressed to the audience by one of the actors at the beginning of a play, opera, ect. 2 an introduction to a novel, poem, or other literary work. 3 any introductory act or event.
Black. White. Shifting... Shades of grey.
Kings. Queens. Bishops.
Pawns.
The board is set, and the two battle-ready armies stare each other down across the checkered field. The white queen smiles fiercely, safe behind her row of pawns, whom she chose before they were even born. Now she has brought them here, to die thousands of miles from home.
The black king raises a hand, and the two armies charge, meeting with a resounding crash. People scream, bodies fall. No one is spared- even the headstrong young queen loses her smile, as her escorts collapse around her. And the pawns continue to fight for something they have never believed in.
Their forces are felled the fastest.
The battle, though brutal, ends quickly. And when the survivors come out of their bloodlust thrall, all the royals lay dead. Seven pawns, from both white and black armies, stare at each other in amazement. They are the only ones. There is no one else left.
One hundred years later, the seven meet again. No longer divided by just two colors, they have split into seven separate entities, still filled to the brim with the power their queens had bestowed them. Increased thousand-fold by the years of practice the powers had bestowed them. Granting them immortality. If these seven died, then the ageless powers died with them- so they gifted their carriers with godlike powers.
And gods they became.
But the powers were restless. They wanted to fight, to prove their worth against worthy opponents. Normal humans were below them. All they had was each other. Their enemies.
Then one came up with the Game.
When one lives forever, names are easily forgotten. Now, the seven former pawns were known only as the colors their powers present themselves as.
Grey. Black. White. Green. Blue. Red. Purple.
It was Grey who thought of the game. Black, Grey's biggest rival, was first to agree. The other five, surprised by the fact that this was the first time these two had agreed since the Beginning-War, all followed suit.
The game started over two millennia, taking place over years and years... A decade ago, the last one ended.
It is time for the next round of The Game. For new pieces, new teams. New betrayal, upsets, scandals.
It is time for A Game of Wits. What this one holds in store is something not even the gods can foretell.
Be*gin*ning (bi gin’ing) n., adj. -n. 1 a start. 2 the time when anything begins. 3 the first part. 4 a first cause; source; origin.
Where does a beginning start?
(not in the middle, that's for sure)
But who is to judge where one thing stops, and another begins? (the world is round, and we will follow suit)
If so, does that mean that there was only ever one beginning?
(only one end, as well, when all is dead and gone)
And what came before that?
(dust and ashes and ashes and dust)
Questions, and Answers, and cold dark nothing.
-Cody Burune
I wouldn’t blame her for what happened. Hell, we all messed up, too many times to count. Just because she was the first, doesn’t mean she deserves the blame. And all the ‘what if’s, the questions voiced in the middle of the night when it’s hard to remember there are reasons for the sun to rise? They’re not her fault, either. No matter what happened that day, it wouldn’t have changed anything. There’s no doubt about that.
So why try to lay the blame on other shoulders?
I mean, when you’re carrying the weight of the world, there’s no reason to search for more to hold.
New students were a fairly common occurrence at my high school. It was a large one in a still-developing neighborhood, so no one seemed to take particular notice of one new grade eight appearing just after Christmas break.
I admit that I only noticed her because of the book she was reading. She had a paperback version of The Odyssey tucked into her binder when she walked into our Science class. And though I knew first impressions were always misleading, I felt as if maybe I had a kindred spirit in her. She must like poetry just a little, if she was reading Homer. I myself had devoured both of his works, and they acted as my muses when my inspiration ran dry, as it often did. So I found myself instantly intrigued by this girl.
One of the boys sitting behind me snickered to his friend about the girl’s odd clothing, but I couldn’t find the courage to turn around and tell them to stuff it. Instead I shrunk down, wishing I wasn’t such a coward. The girl walked right by, pretending not to notice the two assholes, but her cheeks were more red than they had been when she walked in.
Her clothes were unusual, it was true. But nothing outright ridiculous. Long, dark brown hair was tied back into two high pigtails at the back of her head, and her earrings were long chains with what looked like miniature dice dangling from the ends. Her shirt was ripped horizontally all down the front and back, showing off a plain white shirt underneath, and her jeans were ripped in the knees, with trailing hems and writing all over them in a scrawled hand. Personally, I thought it looked unique. But then, I’ve never really been on the same wavelength as the rest of my peers.
There was shuffling behind me while she arranged herself, as Mr. Stirling got back to his lesson. When I chanced a look behind me, though, I noticed she was staring awfully intently at her textbook, eyes flashing back and forth across the pages too quickly to be catching up on the digestive system, no matter how riveting it was. I turned back towards the front, a knowing smile on my lips. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one who read while I was supposed to be working.
“Oi, Cody!”
I turned around, wondering who was hailing me down. It was just after Science, and I was grabbing my lunch out of my locker so I could hurry and take advantage of the rare sunny day we were having. Contrary to popular belief, even though I lived in Western Canada, it didn’t snow too often. Just rained. And in January, a sunny day like this was priceless.
A kid who I recognized from my English class- Jeremy, I think- was smiling at me. I returned the favor, hesitant. Jeremy wasn't technically in my grade, but having been placed a year ahead in said class, I tried to keep to myself, instead of consorting with he older kids. But this guy wasn't too bad. It was common knowledge that he liked any joke at another's expense. So, though I respected him, I didn't entirely trust him.
“Hey. What’s up?”
He clapped me on the back, as if we were the best pals, slouching slightly so we were around the same height. Usually, he was almost a head taller than me.
“You’ve got a new girl in your Science class, right?”
I looked at him in confusion. “Well, yeah. So?”
He was still smiling, though it was starting to look a bit strained. “I was just wondering if you remembered her name, by any chance.”
Blinking stupidly, I tried to think. Had the teacher said it, and I just hadn’t been paying attention? Or had she slipped away without introducing herself? “I, ah, actually couldn’t say what she said her name was. Why don’t you go ask her yourself?”
The grin on his lips had taken on a condescending tilt, mixed with disgust he didn't bother to hide. “I can’t just go up and ask her. How rude is that?” It was obvious to me that he thought he was a wonderful gentleman. “But no one seems to have a clue.”
I shrugged. “Sorry.”
He just rolled his eyes at me as he walked away. I frowned as I turned back towards my locker. An odd conversation, for sure. And the annoyance Jeremy had expressed seemed much harsher than any of the care he had thrown my way before. In fact, that was probably the first conversation we had really ever had.
So caught up in this was I, that I didn't even think to wonder at his interest in the new girl at all.
Fore*bod*ing (for bo’ding) n.1 a prediction;warning. 2 a feeling that something bad is going to happen.
When the clock stops
(tick, tock, tick)
Shivers roll through
(breath in, breath out)
And fingers grasp
(twitch with the stress)
Wondering what today's curse will bring
(rest, and hold)
-Cody Burune
By the time I had gotten outside, I had forgotten all about Jeremy, the new girl, and school in general. Even I have a hard time trying to be negative when the sun is shining in January. The day was still winter-sharp, however, and the cold sent a shiver straight up my spine. My mind flickered to the old superstition, and my mouth twitched into a half-smile. Someone just walked over my grave. Or a ghost had just passed through me. But even those thoughts, in the bright daylight, faded and drifted apart in the light wind. By the time I had reached the trees marking the end of school property, my fingers were already itching for a pencil to try and capture the frozen beauty of this mock-summer day.
I stepped under the forest’s cool shadow, and shivered again. Humming slightly, I hurried to a small meadow that was only a five-minute foray from the well-tread trail. The meadow always had signs of people, be it candy wrappers or beer bottles, but no one went there during lunch, and there was a nicely sized rock that never stayed damp for long, even in the winter. It was the perfect place for writing.
A couple of my friends had come with me at first, at the beginning of the year, when we were fresh out of elementary school, and excited to even be allowed off the grounds at lunch. But none of them really liked it when it started getting cold, until gradually it was only me. They hadn't talked to me in a month now. Nothing in common. It surprised me when I found I didn’t really mind.
I suppose I should have expected as much. Because I like being invisible.
That day, as I ate, the new girl was still in the back of my mind. I wrote of crippled wings and fear of flight, but my guess was that when the new girl had first decided to open her wings, she never once thought of the possibility of falling.
I walked into my next class with a frown on my face. I didn’t particularly enjoy Gym. And it wasn't even that I disliked the physical activity that it entailed. I just thought that it was rather stupid that we were being graded by how badly we could pound our classmates in any given sport, then smile and tell the losers how wonderful they played. Especially since I was on the younger half of a grade split here. So every mistake earned you a round of catcalls from the older students.
Today, because of the sun, the teachers decided we were going to play a full game of soccer, which made everyone happy. Before we had left for Christmas break, the teachers had been threatening a month of square dancing if the weather got ugly. As the older kids started arguing over teams, I noticed that the new girl was in my Gym class, too. She had toned down her outfit for gym class, but she was still wearing her dice earrings. I smiled shyly at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was busy watching the rest of the class sort out the teams, eyes flickering back and forth as they took in the full scene. Then, as if she could feel my staring, her head turned, and our gazes met. She smiled , but I didn’t even notice, too drawn in by her eyes. There was something wrong, something dark hidden just beyond those sky blue orbs. I wanted to reach out and hold her tight, just to make sure she was still there. And I didn’t know why.
She walked over to me, the smile slipping from her lips. Now, her mouth was pursed in what might have been concern. Understandable, since I'm sure my face had heated up when she looked at me, reddening until it resembled a stop sign in color.
“Are you okay?”
Her voice wasn’t what I had expected. For some reason, I had imagined it to be soft and dreamy, like her eyes. But her voice brought to mind a spring storm, instead. Light and sharp. Realizing I had been staring for long enough to appear creepy, I ducked my head, and focused on the ground.
“I’m fine.”
The words came out too fast for my mouth to handle. I don't even think what I said made sense.
She was silent for a moment, and I squirmed, still staring at the ground. Then she laughed- high bells chiming in the winds. It wasn’t really the sound I was expecting. I looked up at her in confusion, to find that she had stepped even closer. Rocking back on my heels in surprise, her hand shot out and grabbed my arm, steadying me. We were, I realized, almost exactly the same height.
The closed space between me and her seemed to fry the words on my tongue. Finding my voice, I managed to it spit out. “What’s your name, again?”
Which was really not what I was going to ask. It had slipped out before my brain had time to rein the thought in. To my horror, I felt my cheeks heat even more, but she was still smiling, so I guess my less-than polite approach didn’t bother her much.
“Sammei. You were in my Science class this morning, right? What’s yours?”
“Cody,” I answered, nodding, and tried a small smile of my own.
“Nice to meet you, Cody.” She looked like she was going to say more, but our teacher chose that moment to blow his whistle, drowning out any conversation we could have had.
The weather seemed to affect everyone's attitude. Less catcalls all around, making for an enjoyable game. I even managed to not make too much of a fool of myself.
The class ended with all of us returning inside, short of breath and still arguing about the last goal. I was walking behind the rest of the crowd, not really paying attention to the disagreement. When Sammei came up behind me and tapped my shoulder, I jumped about a foot. She laughed again, while I chuckled along and pretended I wasn’t embarrassed.
“You know,” she said, once she had calmed down. We were right in front of the two change room doors, and she was about to disappear into the girl’s one. “I think I might really like you, Cody.”
She gave me one last wave, and I spun around so she wouldn’t see that my blush had risen another notch.
I searched for Sammei fervently in Math, which was my last class of the day. When the bell rang, and she hadn’t come in, I found myself utterly disappointed, and disgusted with myself because of it. She was, after all, the only thing I had really thought about all day. I put her out of my mind, letting it instead fill up with numbers, equations, and pi. When the bell rang, it took me a moment to emerge from my math-induced stupor. By the time I had walked out of the school’s front door, all of the first buses had left, and the school had become deserted- a ghost town. I shrugged my backpack, empty of homework, for once, onto my shoulders, and headed down the hill towards town. My house was too close to the school to be on any bus routes, and Aaron and Amy, my road-rage siblings, wouldn’t be caught dead giving a ride to their loser kid brother. I didn’t really mind walking, though. Not usually.
I didn’t even see the people walking in front of me until he started yelling. I looked up, searching for the disturbance, and my eyes found the lone guy 30 or so meters ahead of me. Far enough off that I didn’t recognize him, at first.
“Will you calm down and let go of me?” I could hear the words even clearer now, and I began walking faster, wanting to see what would happen.
“Please, if you’ll just listen!”
I hadn’t seen the girl until she had spoken. She was practically hanging off of the guy’s jacket, frizzy hair in disarray, making her look like a crazy. The guy was looking at her in shock and annoyance, while his fingers were busy attempting to pry the girl’s hands from his front. As I neared them, the boy's face clicked in my memory. This was Dante Hamon, and he was our athletic department’s golden boy. He was captain of all of the junior sports teams, and played on some senior teams as well. No one in the student body didn’t know him.
Dante had succeeded in escaping the girl’s death grip, and was hurrying away from her, his back to the road as he headed down the hill. She ran after him, pleading for him to listen, for just a second.
A truck came screeching around the corner, tires screaming as it swerved. We never did hear if the driver was drunk, or trying to avoid a small critter that had happened to be on the road, or one of the many other possibilities. All I process at that moment was that Dante stood there, stunned, eyes widening as the truck neared, heading straight for him. I was too far away, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even tear my eyes away from Dante’s horror-filled face.
