Showing posts with label #YA. Show all posts

Release Blitz! The Savage Peak by #Author Jon David








Title: The Savage Peak 


Series: The Morgalla Prequel 


Author: Jon David 


Genre: YA, Science Fiction, Fantasy































Two years before the events of “The Trilogy of Morgalla”, a young demon and her mentor are forced to abandon their sanctuary on a far-off world and return to the realm of Hell.


Never having been around her own kind before, the young Morgalla is thrust into an alien culture. She struggles to adapt and find her place. 


Through an act of fate, she is drawn to a world populated by demons and a strange alien people. There is an uneasy truce between them and war is on the horizon. 


Morgalla must choose a side.











Amazon US


Amazon UK


Amazon CA


Amazon AU 



















Born and raised in Southeast Michigan, Jon David was a nerd long before it was ever popular. He hoped to be a comic writer/illustrator when he created Morgalla in college. Since then, between working various jobs, he's honed his craft and turned his misunderstood demon heroine into a four-part epic series.









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Blog Tour! The Enigma by #Author Sheritta Bitkofer






Title: The Enigma
Author: Sheritta Bitikofer
Genre: Young adult paranormal











**First Book in the Loup-Garou Series**

A graveyard late at night wouldn’t seem like the ideal place to meet someone. But for teenager Katey McCoy, that encounter with the handsome stranger with the striking blue eyes would alter her life in ways she’d never imagined.

Orphaned as an infant, bounced around foster homes, labeled as a discipline problem, and now under the thumb of an abusive foster mother, Katey’s been slipping deeper into depression. Who would want a girl with such an ugly face, an imperfect body, or wild hair? But Logan Keith knows the truth about Katey: she’s beautiful. Her flaws are in her head. Besides, he has issues, too. And a secret that could tear apart their growing relationship.

Logan is a werewolf—a loup-garou—with his own troubled past and a flaw that’s considered a handicap in his world. A secret, supernatural world he soon introduces Katey to. Although Logan longs to make Katey part of his pack, it may be impossible for them to be together. In his pack’s history, there’s never been a female werewolf. No woman has been able to survive the transformation. Will Logan’s desire give Katey the escape to a better life and the love she’s always dreamed of, or will he be signing her death warrant?







“She could see his fingers were shaking as he handed it to her and it gave her hope. At least she wasn’t the only one a little nervous. But then, it made her wonder why. She was nothing. Maybe a little more than an insignificant blip of imperfection standing next to his magnificence. There was no reason that he should be nervous.”




Sheritta Bitikofer is a paranormal romance author of eclectic tastes with a passion for storytelling. Her goal with each book is to rebel against shallow intimacy and inspire courage through the power of love and soulful passion. Her biggest thrill comes when she presents love in a genuine light, where the protagonists not only feel a physical attraction to one another, but a deep emotional (and dare we say spiritual?) connection that fuels their relationship forward into something that will endure much longer than the last pages of their novel. A devoted wife and fur-mama to two shelter rescue dogs, Sheritta’s life is never dull. When she’s not writing her next novel, she can be found binge-watching her favorite shows on Netflix, doing Zumba with her friends, or painting at a medieval reenactment event.












Blog Tour! Wicked Treasure by #Author Jordan Elizabeth

WICKED TREASURE
Book 3 of the Treasure Chronicles
A young adult novel of romance and the paranormal set in a steampunk world.



An asylum patient has a cryptic vision: Clark will overthrow the presidency. She's just insane...right? 

When a clockwork lion kidnaps their daughter, Clark and Amethyst's calm new life shatters. Hunting down the beast leads the Grishams and Treasures to a conspiracy not just against Clark, but also against the country. 

The conspirators attacked their little girl. An offense like that can’t go ignored. With his old gang at his back, Clark is ready to take on an abandoned circus, dethroned royalty, a corrupt orphanage, and the presidency itself. 
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WICKED TREASURE is available now on Amazon from Curiosity Quills Press.
Check out early reviews on GoodReads!
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Can’t wait to read the next installment in the Treasure Chronicles world?  Check out the first chapter:
They washed her hair, so she knew it was coming: the next visit. The nurse shoved Samantha’s head beneath the water in the tin tub, the liquid already cold from the air, and she stayed still; if she fought, they might bind her wrists. Last time they did that, the linen ropes had cut her skin.
Droplets splashed over the edge as the middle-aged woman shoved her deeper, Samantha’s chin striking the bottom. Blood filled her mouth where her teeth had nipped her tongue. She fought to not gasp as the nurse pulled her up to drench her hair in lavender oil.
The gas lamps shone too bright in the ceiling. Yellow glows twirled around each other like macabre dancers. She could drift back into the soapy water and inhale; death would take her to join that dancing.
“Filthy nits,” the nurse mumbled as she yanked a silver comb through Samantha’s ginger curls. Oil splattered onto Samantha’s bare shoulders, pooling along her collarbone.
She could say the nits weren’t her fault. She could request regular bathing.
Samantha stared out the room’s lone barred window as tears stung her eyes. Each jerk of the comb snapped more hairs from her scalp, and the oil’s scent burned her lungs.
A bell rang from somewhere deep within the asylum, muffled by brick and wood. Two nurses laughed in the hallway. They all got to go home at the end of their shifts. They had families and houses.
Samantha could have pushed them into the tub until the final air bubbles burst past their lips.
The comb clattered onto the side table, where cosmetic products had been lined up on a silver tray like medical instruments. Her gums where they’d ripped out her molars ached at the thought. Whatever rich sod received her teeth better have taken care of them.
“Ugly thing.” The nurse jabbed pins into Samantha’s hair to keep her curls up. “Should shave your head, we should. Get rid of those nits and all this fussing. Get you a wig then. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, chit?”
If it kept away the suffering of bathtime, then yes.
“Rise.” Nurse Hairy Mole—the huge brown mole grew at the tip of her nose—slapped a ragged towel against Samantha’s frame. “We’ll put you in the sitting room this time. He didn’t like the parlor, said it was too cold. That man doesn’t like a thing.”
And Samantha didn’t like him.
#
Captain MacFarland gritted his teeth as he took the front concrete steps two at a time. The stone plaque beside the door matched well with the asylum’s cold interior.
Wade Asylum. The only institute in the northeast for the mentally unhinged.
He hummed under his breath to keep away morbid thoughts, and the bronze attendant opened the door for him with a nod that sent the machine’s gears grinding. They might think him off, bringing music into the darkness, but the walls tended to close in around him, as if he too might become strapped into one of the cribs.
He’d seen the cribs once when his friend had insisted they come to visit his wife. The cribs, Captain MacFarland understood, were reserved for those who fought confinement, and his friend’s wife had screamed as though a banshee had possessed her.
Come night, dreams of Wade Asylum plagued him, and she’d haunted the majority for the past year. He could still hear her shriek, “You only put me here so you could be with that slut!”
His friend had stroked his fingers across her arm, her wrists bound to the sides of the metal crib. “Of course. I’ll always love you, but you didn’t like my mistress. You’ll need to stay here until you can accept her. They’ll help you right your mind here.”
The woman had spit at him, one of her eyes swollen shut. No one had told them who had punched her.
Captain MacFarland hummed louder as he approached the mahogany front desk where a young nurse in a low-cut white bodice wrote in a journal.
“Hello, Captain MacFarland.” She closed the journal and clasped her hands atop the leather cover. “Always so punctual, aren’t you?” The girl bent forward to expose more of her pale bosom. The song faltered in his throat as he pictured hopping over the counter to push her against the wall. He could push up her skirt, he imagined her without bloomers, and take her there in the waiting room that smelled of lamp oil. Those pink-painted lips of hers would part in a gasp, and she might even bite his neck. He loved it when they bit.
“I pride myself on punctuality.” He pulled the brass pocket watch from his brown jacket to flash her the time, and she smiled enough to show her straight white teeth.
“I made sure to assign you the sitting room in her ward, Captain. I recall how much you loathed the parlor.”
How anyone could call that drafty room a parlor escaped him. “Wonderful. I was wondering, Miss Nurse, about how you would feel meeting over a meal this evening. We could talk more about what it’s like here at Wade.”
“Captain, yes! I get done here at six if that works.” She chewed on her fingernail before she tipped back in her seat, her bosom bouncing. “I’ll get an orderly to show you to the patient, sir.”
He leaned one arm on the desk and winked. “I’d like that.”
His pleasure diminished with each step as he followed the brass orderly, who moved on wheeled feet, toward Ward 8. The machine unlocked door after door, and sealed them behind, until he seemed he’d entered a box he could never escape. Bars covered the few windows; bare bricks replaced wooden paneling on the walls. Gas lamps flickered close to the ceilings.
The air adopted a damp, musty odor, mixed with medicine he didn’t recognize.
The orderly unlocked a final door and entered what he assumed counted as a sitting room. Unlike the parlor with a table and chairs, this space offered velveteen settees. Light shone through two windows across the chipped tile floor.
Samantha sat on the settee closest to the door. Iron cuffs fastened her ankles together, visible beneath her black velvet skirt. The material matched the collar of her purple brocade jacket.
“I see you’re wearing the clothes I sent.” He cleared his throat when it rasped, and he glanced at the orderly, but of course it couldn’t make judgments on what it overheard. By order of the government, the orderly who attended them had to have its recorder removed so the conversation wouldn’t leave.
Someone had painted her lips a too dark red. “You can take them with you when you leave. I never get to see them again.”
“What do you wear normally?” Captain MacFarland had always imagined the girl posing in them before a mirror whenever he departed. He chose the highest fashion for her to make her feel… well, like she wasn’t a mental patient.
“A shift.” Samantha shrugged. “We’re not allowed anything else, and it’s sewn on us, didn’t you know. If we had loose sleeves, we could strangle ourselves.”
Her matter of fact tone made him shudder. He dropped onto the settee across from her. The last time he’d sat beside her, she’d lunged toward his eyes, and the orderly had pinned her down while administering a sedative from those brass fingers. The trip had been wasted.
“Do you remember,” he murmured, “when you were a child and I brought you peppermint sticks?” He should have done that for her again. Her green eyes had always adopted a life then, rather than the bloodshot, bulging quality they possessed otherwise.
“Better than the toys. They took those away after you left.”
He coughed. “How are you, Samantha?” It seemed wrong to take what he wanted and leave. She deserved a social call; he knew he was her only visitor, and his boss only required one visit every two months.
“They don’t allow me to take lessons anymore now that I’m sixteen.”
Captain MacFarland winced. Her birthday had occurred earlier in the month. He should have given her more than the clothes, no matter they would vanish. A nurse probably commandeered them.
“What do you do with your days then?” When she was younger, before she realized what it meant to be in Wade Asylum, she would have chatted with him about nonsense, like shapes she spotted in the clouds. He could have told her about the upcoming date with the nurse, and she could have told colors looked best on him. Brown, he already knew, but hearing from her had always brightened him.
Then, she asked questions he couldn’t answer. She learned about life outside from the nurses. She came to hate him as her jailer.
Samantha tipped her head as if judging his query. He’d brought her a hat this time, and it slid cockeyed across her head. Sixteen… young lady now despite her frail frame. He was thankful he’d delivered the white blouse with the high lace collar, fastened with a cameo one of the nurses must have supplied; it fit with a more mature age.
“I’m drugged up,” she said. “They didn’t give me anything, because of you I suppose. This is Ward 8. I hear stuff, you know. Ward 9 is the toughest. Constant lockdown. Violent criminals. I’m just in the criminal wing.” She scowled, her yellow teeth crooked. “We can’t wander. Oh no, that would be too dangerous. We get ropes and medicine.”
Ropes and medicine. Bile burned his throat. It wouldn’t help if he voiced aloud his wish for a different life, one where his boss didn’t make her stay under lock and key. One where he didn’t have to venture into the sterile building to see her on a clockwork basis.
“I’m not crazy.” She’d said that at every visit since she turned ten. “I know why I’m here. Someday the doctor’s going to believe me.”
“Oh, sweetie.” The doctor could believe her all he wanted. Money kept him quiet and her confined, and so long as he kept getting his checks, he wouldn’t so much as whisper the truth in his sleep.
Her pale face hardened, and she stuck out her hands, the fingernails broken, blood caked under them. “Come get what you want.”
He pulled off his leather gloves and placed them in his jacket pockets. Something told him he’d be doing this for the rest of his life, and was only thirty-four. “Tell me what the country needs to know.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through her mouth, the sound loud and harsh in the room where the only noise came from the tick-tock of the orderly’s body. He gripped her hands and interlaced their fingers, hoping it would lend her strength.
Perspiration dotted her skin despite the frigid winter air. Snowflakes stuck to the window glass. A trickle of blood seeped from her left nostrils and her teeth chattered. Her eyeballs rolled back in her head as her lids fluttered.
“Tell me what the country needs to know,” he repeated.
“Clark Grisham will overthrow the presidency.”




#


About The Author:

Jordan Elizabeth became obsessed with steampunk while working at a Victorian Fair.  Since then, she’s read plenty of books and even organized a few steampunk outfits that she wears on a regular basis (unless that’s weird, in which case she only wears them within the sanctuary of her own home – not!). Jordan’s young adult novels include ESCAPE FROM WITCHWOOD HOLLOW, COGLING, TREASURE DARKLY, BORN OF TREASURE, RUNNERS AND RIDERS, GOAT CHILDREN, PATH TO OLD TALBOT, and VICTORIAN.  WICKED TREASURE is her sixth novel with Curiosity Quills Press.  Check out her website for bonus scenes and contests. 
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In honor of WICKED TREASURE, check out book one, TREASURE DARKLY, on sale now for 99 cents!




Cover Reveal! Game On by #Author S.C. Daiko


If i wasn't her student, it would be 
Title: Game On 
Author : S.C. Daiko 
Genre: Contemporary, YA, Sports romance
Cover Designer : RBA Designs 








RYAN
There was only one thing I wanted in life: to play professional rugby.


I lived and breathed it.


Until I met Beth. 

She’s beautiful, sweet, and so incredibly sexy . . . but she’s out of bounds.
Beth wants me, I know she does, and I want her.
If I wasn’t her student it would be game on.


BETH
There was only one thing I wanted in life: to be a good teacher.


And I was.


Until I met Ryan.

He held me against his hard body on a hot Ibiza night, and I lost myself to him.
Six months later, he’s in my Spanish class… what I feel for him is totally against the rules.
Soon rugby isn’t the only game Ryan is playing.
But when his past catches up with him, and everything starts to go wrong . . . will it be game over for the two of us?







SC Daiko is a romance junkie who loves writing about strong heroines and hot alpha males. Originally from the UK, she now lives in Italy with her husband and two cats.
Nothing makes her happier than connecting with readers and fellow authors, and she feels it a privilege to be a part of the book world.








She loves to be stalked, and you can find her on 

Follow her blog  and sign up for her newsletter. She won’t spam you and there are giveaways from time to time.








Promo Tour! Books by #Author Cheryllynn Dyess






THE JEIN'S JOURNEY SERIES


 by Cheryllynn Dyess


Blog Tour! Kistishi Island by #Author Jordan Elizabeth

KISTISHI ISLAND
A young adult novel about what happens when your imaginary friends aren’t so imaginary after all.


Serena Cole can kick serious butt thanks to young women only she can see. School bullies aren’t her only problem. To shield Serena from a dark secret, her family tries to convince her that her friends are imaginary. 

Fleeing her distrustful aunt, Serena joins her mother on an archeological dig at Kistishi Island. There, Serena discovers an ancient scroll and realizes her invisible friends are goddesses native to the island, and they are in danger of enslavement for their abilities. Only Serena can save her friends if she can discover the past her family has hidden her entire life – the reason why only she can see the goddesses.
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KISTISHI ISLAND is now available on Amazon from Clean Reads.
Check out early reviews on GoodReads!
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Check out Chapter 1:

“How are your imaginary friends?” Serena read aloud from the black marker scrawled on her locker. Her dry lips stuck together with each word as the sarcasm stung her mind. The janitor might scrub the permanent marker, but it would always remain a faint reminder of how much people ridiculed her. The washed out marks from last week, “Schizo,” “Fake,” and “Your imaginary friends hate you,” still showed up against the brown metal.

“Aw, someone cares about my day.” Krieg hovered behind, picking fuzz off her dress. “You should answer them. Write ‘Krieg says hi’ underneath.”

The last thing she needed was people knowing how much she still communicated with Krieg. Serena glanced down the hallway, but the students strolling by didn’t look her way. Who could have written the graffiti? Roxanne? Her hand trembling, Serena spun the combination on her lock and jerked open the dented locker door. The hinges rattled.

Did it hurt them if she had an invisible friend? As she exchanged a textbook for her social studies notes, someone bumped her butt. She lost her balance, flinging out her hand to grab the locker.

“Whoops,” a boy said and snickered.

Serena’s cheeks burned as she stuffed her supplies into her messenger bag. One more hour of high school and she could go home. Tomorrow she would bring another marker to scribble out the words that branded her.

Krieg leaned in close enough for Serena to smell her peppermint bubble gum, and said, “Bludgeon them. It’s the only way to get them to shut up.”

“No one’s talking about me right now.” Serena’s sneakers squeaked against the tile floor as she ducked into the classroom. Afternoon sunlight reflected off faded Holocaust posters on the off-white walls.

“It’s annoying when you allow the little rodents to torment you.” Krieg stuck her tongue out at the few students settling into their seats. “Where are the beheadings and crocodile pits? How about some maiming? I want to hear screaming and bones crunching.”

“This is the suburbs in the twenty-first century. People don’t do that stuff here.” Serena took her favorite seat in the back near the globe and opened her messenger bag to remove her notebook. Glancing around the room at the few students, she smiled. Since the teacher hadn’t arrived yet, she could grab a few minutes to work on her novel. Hopefully, the story would be done by her mother’s next visit. Look what I did, Mom!

“Whatcha doing?” Krieg leaned her hip against the desk and rearranged the pleated folds of her silk stola. Beneath the sleeveless dress, she wore a turquoise tunic. A thin silver belt fastened beneath her breasts, and another clasped around her narrow waist.

 “I’ve got an idea for chapter seven of my Jennifer Erik story.” Serena pressed her pen to a clean page. “Jennifer’s going to be caught by a gargoyle.”

 Roxanne stalked from two rows over and blinked her glittered eyelids at Serena. “Did you just call me a gargoyle?”

Serena tightened her fist around her pen. “No.” Her throat constricted. Why does Roxanne always have to single me out?

Roxanne yanked Serena’s black notebook from the desk; the metal spirals scraped against the hard surface. Serena’s pen slipped from her hand and struck the tile floor, the sound eerily loud.

 Fail. She hadn’t made it through that last hour of the school day. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Who were you talking to? Your imaginary friends?” Roxanne bent the notebook, her biceps flexing beneath the short sleeves of her skull-and-crossbones T-shirt.

Serena cringed. Even though she would still be able to read the words, her stomach twisted into a knot. It wouldn’t be the same as having the pages crisp, new.

“I told you to bludgeon everyone before they could start on you.” Krieg rubbed her knuckles together.

“Forget to do your homework again?” Roxanne asked.

“It’s not my homework—”

“Maybe they should put you in Special Ed.”

Blood drained from Serena’s head, her heartbeat ringing in her ears. Classmates stopped getting out supplies from their backpacks to stare. Of course Roxanne would have to bring that up.

Serena toyed with her nose ring to calm her nerves. I will not fight back.

Krieg flounced across the room to push Roxanne’s baseball cap off her desk and jumped aside when a boy almost walked into her. He stopped to pick up the hat, and Krieg pointed at his bottom as he bent. She lifted her foot in a mock kick. “You know you want to.”

Serena drew a deep breath, dragging her gaze away from Krieg and back to Roxanne. “Please give my notebook back.”

One, two, three… uno, dos, tres… Her last psychiatrist promised counting in foreign languages would help her calm down faster because it took more conscious thinking to do it.

Her pulse still pounded.

Serena wouldn’t react. She knew better. It was just a spiral notebook.

Roxanne, standing over Serena’s desk, thumbed through the pages, tearing the college-ruled paper with her thick fingers. “Your handwriting sucks.” Needles scraped across Serena’s skin with each rip.

“Do something.” Krieg punched her fist into her palm.

Four, five, six… no, Serena would not talk back. Seven, eight, nine… she wouldn’t say anything this time. Ten, eleven, twelve… maybe she could still make it through the final hour.

“What is this crap?” Roxanne ripped out a page. Smirking, she crumpled the paper and tossed it at the garbage can in the back of the room.

“Don’t let her ruin your story.” Disgust coated Krieg’s words; she spat them out as if they were spoiled milk. Eyes narrowed, Krieg brushed her hand across Serena’s shoulder. Electricity shot through her body, arching her back.

“Give it back!” Serena launched to her feet. No, not again. She grabbed the notebook with two hands while she jammed her shoulder into Roxanne’s sternum. The force knocked Roxanne backward, but she clung to the notebook, dragging Serena with her as she hit the floor. Roxanne rolled until her muscled frame pressed against Serena’s ribs, forcing the breath from her lungs. Serena squirmed to get away, bumping her leg against a desk. She wouldn’t fight, didn’t want to, couldn’t, not here, not again…

Krieg’s voice echoed in her mind. Squelch her. Tie her to the rack.

“Cool. A fight.” A girl sitting across the aisle from Serena laughed.

I don’t want to fight. Krieg’s electricity still burned Serena’s veins, muting her urge for peace. Even if Serena didn’t win, she wouldn’t let Roxanne walk away without a few bruises. Maybe Roxanne would finally quit bullying her. Then Serena would never have to fight again, no matter how much the urge overtook her.

“You think you’re better than the rest of us?” Roxanne bared her teeth. “All alone back here, just because your mom was in National Geographic?”

She wrapped her legs around Serena’s, and they rolled. Serena’s back hit another desk leg. Pain flared along her nerves. A few quick twists of her hands on Roxanne’s head, and Serena could have broken her neck the way Krieg had taught her, but she stilled. Perspiration broke out across her forehead as she forced herself not to move.

“Fry her.” Bloodlust tainted Krieg’s voice. Her unbound hair hid her face, purple eyes peeking out.

“You gotta see this,” a girl said from the other side of the classroom into her cell phone. “Roxanne took on Serena!” 

Roxanne didn’t have to antagonize her, but if she wanted a fight, so be it. Serena slapped Roxanne’s huge, red face. Roxanne seized Serena’s wrist. Serena tried to squirm away, but Roxanne pinned her down and grabbed the edge of her sweater, yanking it up to reveal Serena’s bare chest.

Serena gasped. Cheeks burning, she ripped the fabric away and tugged her sweater back down. “I…I can’t…” My aunt thinks I’m still ten and only buys me undershirts sounded pathetic, even if it was the truth.

“Bras only get in the way,” Krieg yelled from Serena’s desk. “Real women go nude.”

Serena’s classmates hooted laughter and her cheeks burned. A few people lifted their cameras as if to take a photo. Fantastic, just what she needed—a compromising picture of her flashing through the school. Maybe she should rip off Roxanne’s shirt to see what their classmates would do then.

Mr. Clayton walked into his classroom, his beer belly straining against the front of his green button-up shirt. “The copier got jammed and I had to—” He dropped his papers. “Roxanne Bynes! Serena Cole!”  

The chill of the tile floor bit through Serena’s clothes. A growing ache pulsed in the back of her head. She gritted her teeth. At least the fight was over.

Krieg clapped her hands. “Who cares if Mr. Clayton’s here? Kill her already.”

“Roxanne Bynes, are you going to let her up or do I have to pull you off?” Mr. Clayton rubbed the bridge of his nose.  

Roxanne rolled off and wiped her cheek on her forearm. Serena remained on the floor with one hand over her head and the other resting on her stomach, eyes squeezed shut so tight they hurt.

“Serena, please, I thought we discussed this before.” Mr. Clayton sighed. “Get off the floor. Both of you, head to the office. Now.” He snorted. “I’m sure your aunt will be interested in hearing about your newest escapade.”

Now Aunt Nikki will have to promise the principal and the teachers, again, how I’ll behave better in school. Maybe I should have gone along with the school when they wanted to put me in Special Ed. Someone there might also have a friend like Krieg – a friend who wanted her to off people.

“I’m waiting, Serena.”

“Come on.” Krieg danced behind Mr. Clayton and fluttered her eyelashes. “Even you can take him on. He’s just a teacher. I doubt he’s ever been to a gym.”

“I’m not fighting the teacher.” Serena opened one eye to glare at her invisible friend.

“Hmm?” Mr. Clayton tapped his foot. Krieg puckered her lips at his back, making kissy sounds.

Groaning, Serena stood up. Roxanne glared at Serena before she grabbed a tissue off the teacher’s desk, pressed it to her wounded cheek, and stomped from the room.

“You started it,” Serena muttered. She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair before Krieg approached to tuck it behind her ears. Maybe Krieg was right, a few little twists and Serena would never have to worry about Roxanne again. Tension beat through her tight muscles. She wanted to punch a hole through the classroom wall and give Mr. Clayton something to punish her for. The thought made her snicker. Maybe she should become the delinquent everyone believed her to be and succumb to Krieg’s instigations without trying to resist.

“Pick up your things and head to the office,” Mr. Clayton said. He picked up the phone near the door and dialed four numbers. “Yes, this is Clayton. I’m sending Roxanne Bynes and Serena Cole down for fighting in my classroom.” He paused. “Roxanne is on her way and Serena will leave shortly. I don’t want anything starting in the hall.”

Serena snatched her notebook and slipped the ruined pages into her black bag. Blood thrummed in her ears. A few students whispered from their seats, staring at her. She wanted to wave her notebook at them and ask, “How does this make me the weirdo? I’m the victim.”

Krieg leaned against Serena’s desk. “You could’ve beaten him.”

Serena picked up her pen from the floor and blew on it.

“Roxanne, too.” Krieg grinned. Some of her thick black hair fell over her face. “Clayton’s old. Roxanne would’ve been a little tougher, but I know you could’ve done it. It’s like they say on that box thing.”

Serena stared ahead at the Smart Board. She hated it when Krieg pretended to forget English words. “Television?”

“Yes, that.” Krieg tucked her wild tresses behind her elfin ears. “If you put your heart into it, you can do anything. Why don’t you believe in yourself?”

“I do,” Serena whispered. I could’ve killed Roxanne. Is that what you want, Krieg? To see me behind bars with blood on my hands? What kind of imaginary friend are you?
****
Serena sat in a hard chair near the door to the principal’s office. She peered at the clock on the wall. Five after three. She wished she could go home already, but the principal was still lecturing Roxanne. Soon it would be her turn. Silhouettes danced through the frosted glass of the office door. Principal Reed gestured out the window and Roxanne had her arms folded, shaking her head.

Krieg dropped cross-legged onto the floor beside Serena. The white stola rode up over her knees. “What if we put super glue on her chair? Then Roxanne will be stuck.” Krieg giggled.

“That’s immature.” Serena groaned from behind her hand. The secretary glanced over, then returned to the files on her desk, just like last time Serena visited. She could almost read the secretary’s thoughts: Serena Cole, back with another issue.

“So? It’ll be funny.” Krieg held her knees and rocked. Then she bounced to her feet, pranced to the secretary’s desk, and swiped her arm across a stack of papers to knock them onto the floor.

The secretary jumped to her feet. “What was that?”

“Let me help.” Serena rose, picking up an attendance form that had landed near her foot.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it, but thanks.” The secretary frowned at the closed office window before accepting the form and starting on the other papers. “What a mess.”

“Mayhem is fun.” Krieg returned to Serena’s side.

I wish I could travel with Mom. Then I could have tutors. Serena unfastened her nose ring and dropped it into the zippered side compartment of her bag before Aunt Nikki saw she still wore it. “What do you think my dad would say if he was still alive?”

“Get out your notebook,” Krieg said, “and we’ll find out.”
****

Dear Dad,

Maybe up in Heaven, you’ll be able to read this. I’m going to burn it, and maybe you can find the ashes. Krieg told me it’s a good way to speak to the dead.

 I wish you were here. I wish I could’ve met you. There’s always so much I want to say. So much I want to do with you, and sometimes I pretend you’re with me. It never feels right, though. You’re never as solid as my other imaginary friends are.

Maybe it’s because you’re not imaginary. You’re dead.

Krieg talks about death a lot. What do you think, Dad? Should I listen to her and fight? It feels so good.

Love,

Your daughter down here on Earth,

Serena Stymerya Cole
****
Serena shut the notebook. Maybe Dad’s spirit will convince Mom to take me away from New York.
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Jordan Elizabeth is known for her odd sense of humor and her outrageous outfits.  Surrounded by bookshelves, she can often be found pounding away at her keyboard – she’s known for breaking keyboards, too.  Jordan’s young adult novels include ESCAPE FROM WITCHWOOD HOLLOW, COGLING, TREASURE DARKLY, BORN OF TREASURE, GOAT CHILDREN, VICTORIAN, and RUNNERS AND RIDERS.  KISTISHI ISLAND is her first novel with Clean Reads.  Check out her website for bonus scenes and contests. 
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