#Book Blitz #Mimic ( The Prodigy Chronicles 2) by C.L. Denault#Dystopian #Sci-Fi @Xpresso Book Tours22/6/2021
Mimic
-- EXCERPT: “Gem.” I put my hand on her arm. “What did you see on that screen?” She raised her eyes to meet mine. “A prediction.” “Prediction?” I immediately thought of the gypsy seers that traveled between villages. They tagged alongside the musicians, setting up tables with rich fabrics and candles, coaxing a jingle out of anyone drunk enough to fall for their silky promises. “About my future?” “About your skill level.” Ignoring the food, Gem rested her arms on her folded legs and clasped her hands. “After the machine stopped, did you see the way that commander worked with the data?” “You mean, when he was spinning it around?” I made circles in the air with my fingers. She nodded. “Something about your frequency shut down the program, but he forced it into making a guess about your skill level. The prediction popped up on the screen.” “That’s the message you saw?” Again, she nodded. “What did it say?” She pressed her lips together, thinking. “Do you know anything about Callayo Roanoke?” I blinked. “A little. He was my great-great-something or other, I think, but—” I shook my head, confused. “What does that have to do with anything?” “He was like you, Will. He had telekinesis. Really strong telekinesis. He used it to keep London from being totally wiped out during the prodigy wars.” “Okay, but how does—” Waving her hands, she stopped me. “He was a Level Three prodigy. That’s the highest level on record. Anywhere.” Slowly, the tiger uncoiled in my belly. “Go on.” “His DNA frequency sets the standard for all programs—here, and across the sea. The parameters don’t go any higher, because no one thought . . . well, it’s just a guess, but . . .” I reached out and grabbed her shoulders. “What are you saying?” She took a deep breath. “The program thinks you’re a Level Four.” Thunder rumbled outside the window, but it was nothing compared to the sound of the tiger laughing in my ears. Her delight swept through me, followed by a strange sense of awakening. Something potent and powerful unfurled in my belly as she rose to all fours. Then her laughter faded, and Gem’s voice broke though. “—change the software and run the test again. If it’s true, Will, then everything has to be reconsidered.” Blood pounded in my ears. “Everything?” “Security, location, testing, even your betrothal contract.” Nausea set in. “What do you mean?” Peeling my hands off her shoulders, she held them tightly between us. “I mean that no one knows what you can do, and that could scare a lot of people. If Callayo Roanoke was able to save this city, you could easily be capable of . . .” She trailed off, the tiger finishing for her. Destroying it.
GIVEAWAY!
Wraith
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “Hey, Cal,” Dylan says from inside the car. open slit or the tinted window frame. I wonder if he’s still jet lagged from his arrival, or if he’s too lazy to get out of his seat. Kornelía motions for me to follow her to the trunk so I can store my bag and backpack. I keep hold of my violin case as I move to the vehicle’s far side. “Speaking of different,” she whispers, nodding towards the car. I quirk a brow, but she only shrugs one shoulder before opening the front door and sliding into her seat. I pause, taking another deep breath and pushing down the slight queasiness born from knowing this is the last stretch before camp is officially upon me. Then I open the car door and duck inside. The hired driver I’m guessing is a local starts the vehicle and heads away from the Ilulissat Airport. I settle into my seat before turning to Dylan—and promptly doing a double- take. Dylan Benowitz has always had a sickly, sallow complexion. But his skin looks nearly gray in the car’s interior light. The bags under his eyes have darkened, and there is a definite yellow tint to the whites. Combined with the disheveled, shaggy state of his dark hair, the discoloration makes him look like he’s contracted a fake illness only ever seen in the movies. “Hey,” he says again. His eyes are wary and expectant, like he knows what I’m about to say. “Are you… okay?” I ask, unable to refrain from posing the question I’m positive he’s heard many times since his arrival. “I’m not dying,” he mutters with a sigh. He scrapes his hair back, scratching his scalp. “Trust me. Between my mother and my stepmom, I’ve been to at least a dozen doctors over the last six months. Not to mention consultations with the rabbi. I’ve taken enough tests, I’m shocked I haven’t earned some kind of degree. My blood work checks out, my oxygen levels are ideal, and my liver function is fine.” He rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” “Well that’s good, I guess,” I mumble. Dylan smiles, dropping his hands to his lap as Kornelía turns in her seat to face us. “I can still function, at least,” he says. “Unlike poor Korni.” I shift my gaze forward. “They still haven’t figured out what’s going on with your eyesight, then?” “Nope,” she says with another shrug. “According to tests, I’m fine too. Except my eyes keep getting worse. I never thought I’d miss my old glasses.” The slight release of tension offered by the open air dissolves as worry coils back around my chest. I didn’t expect to see my friends in such a bad state. I’ve talked to both Dylan and Kornelía over the last ten months, but our conversations didn’t prepare me for how they now appear. From the looks of it, our third summer with the Oracle of Senders isn’t off to a smashing start. “We’re all falling apart, aren’t we?” I muse.
GIVEAWAY! Becoming Brooklyn
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: “Why do you need to talk to…just us?” Bree asked, her stare critical and questioning. “Why not all the 9/11 Babies?” The general nodded, acknowledging the fairness of her question. “You would probably instinctively group yourself with the rest of the kids who had parents die in the attacks of 9/11. And while the entire group of 9/11 Babies have been branded heroes – appropriately, I might add – the six of you are different than the others who attended the dinner the other night.” He brought his hands in front of him, clasped them together casually in front of his broad torso. “In fact, I’ve been assigned to talk with you all this evening regarding this difference. But before I begin, please know I am about to tell you something that is quite possibly the most sensitive, most valuable, most protected secret in our military today.” My heart picked up speed. Suddenly I felt like I was sitting in the principal’s office, in trouble but not quite sure why. “Sensitive, how?” Adrianna asked. The general pursed his lips. “It may take a while to explain. If I may, I’m going to ask for your patience as I attempt to do so.” He walked slowly toward us, clicking a button to lower a white screen behind him. It hovered above the fireplace as if it were a painting. “I was thinking about the best way to inform you on the topic, and I decided I should start with what you already know: what you see in the papers and what you’ve learned in History Class.” Ugh. History Class. The six of us took turns shooting uneasy glances to one another, and the general, like so many teachers, pressed on, despite our obvious lack of enthusiasm. “Even before the terrorist attacks on 9/11,” he explained, “the United States of America was the world’s leader in stopping terrorism. We continue to fulfill this role today.” As if to prove his point, the screen behind him exploded into pictures of ongoing warfare. Bombs, tanks, and horrific blasts filled the screen. “Terrorists know no geographical boundaries,” he continued as the pictures ceased, “but neither do we, when it comes to humanitarian issues. When the U.S. was young, we were spoiled by our location. Oceans separated us from the rest of the world’s conflicts, so we were primarily concerned with our own. But after the atrocities of the Second World War were exposed, we knew we needed to make a global effort to combat the evil that existed outside our borders.” “The way we did this was to develop our best, most gifted citizens. We identified them at a young age and used our training facilities to nurture their gifts, pushing them as hard as they could be pushed, and making sure those gifts weren’t wasted. Soon, we had enough of these gifted warriors to form an elite military group. Its earliest members named it The Crest.” “And what does this have to do with us?” I asked. I mean, it was nice of him to give us a history lesson and all, but the anticipation of why we were meeting with a general was killing me. “Patience, Brooklyn,” General Richards replied, his tone implying he was losing his own. “I promised I’d explain, and I’m about to.” He turned to address the whole group again. “You are six of the so-called ‘9/11 Babies’,” he began. “But you are a special six. The hundreds of other 9/11 Babies lost their parents heroically on that horrible day, and you did, too. But your parents were more than heroes.” He paused, making sure he had our undivided attention. We weren’t breathing; we couldn’t. “You would probably think of them as superheroes, members of the very same group I described.” His gaze intensified. “They were part of our most secret, gifted branch of the military: The Crest: Chosen, Rare, Elite… Superhuman and Triumphant.”
GIVEAWAY! The Immortal Game
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GIVEAWAY!
My thoughts:
This story was so much fun to read! I am a big fan of mythology-based books and books about loyalty, friendship, adventure, standing up for injustly accused and finding your own way in the world. Add not one but two strong female leads to the mix and you've got me swooning! Yes, this book is perfect for fans of Percy Jackson, although it doesn't focus on demi-gods, so there is very little connection with the human world. The main characters Galene, daughter of Poseidon, Iyana,daughter of Zeus, Demetri, son of Ares, and Braxtus are young, so-called unnamed gods. They have to take a special kind of test to earn their immortality and future veneration from humans. There is also Kostas, another adorable character in the book, who has already passed his Trial and has earned his name of the God of Games. Galene fails her test, although there are some doubts about the fairness of the trial in her case. She is sad, but resigned to try again in future. Then unthinkable happens: Mount Olympus is attacked and Galene is framed for what occured. She is exiled. Her best friend Iyana speaks up in her favour and banishes herself in protest against the unfairness of the Gods' decision. They are joined by Demetri,and later Braxtus and Kostas. Once they reach Galene's previously exiled older brother Chrysander, they will have to make some choices that would test their loyalty to their home and would send them on an unforgettable adventure. There are several POVs in this book and I loved getting these different perspectives, although I must admit Kostas's was always my favourite, due not only to his character, but also his special abilities. The mix of characters was absolutely perfect, plus they all have to grow and develop in the book to show to the world what they really are and what they are capable of! The setting was fantastic and the quest were fantastic- there was so much variety! The pace was excellent- just enough time to let us get to know the characters better and lots of exciting action. One of my favourite scenes was the battle of Iyana with the traitor- it was great to see this generaly quiet and insecure girl realise her power and use it in a spectacular way. Another top moment is the Beast Maker Game, but you have to read the book to find out what it is all about... Highly recommended to anyonewho loves a good action-packed mythology story! Thankyou to NetGalley, the publisher and Xpresso Book Tours for the ARC provided in exchange for an honest opinion. The Weight of the Sky
-- EXCERPT: Chris’s fingers trembled over the email icon on the cracked screen of her Samsung phone. “It’s from St. Catherine’s. Oh my God, Lesley, I’m going to pee my pants.” “Spelling Bee, there’s no way they didn’t accept you. Get that tremble outta your pale-ass chin.” Lesley pulled her full lips and dark eyebrows into an assured pout. “You’re the smartest freshman in the history of Bridgeport High School. All that shit about string theory you were spouting off in the hallway last week? I didn’t even know you were speaking English. I thought Mr. Idelson was going to nut himself.” “Eww.” Chris wrinkled her nose at the thought of her ancient Biology teacher doing anything that resembled nutting himself. “Eww.” Lesley jutted her chin in agreement. “The point is, you’re a genius. Just open it.” Chris pushed her brown hair behind her ears and attempted to duplicate Lesley’s self-confident posture. It was true. She was smart. At public school. St. Catherine’s Prep existed in a different universe. It was, without question, the best high school in the area, possibly in the whole state of Connecticut. The campus gleamed like a bastion of perfection, nestled securely into the part of Fairfield County dominated by large, estate-style houses and private waterfront property. The girls wore charcoal grey uniform skirts and the boys wore monogrammed blue blazers. The tuition was $35,000 a year. The thought that they might accept her there on a full scholarship for tenth grade seemed as ludicrous as Hagrid the groundskeeper sweeping into her mother’s postage stamp apartment to let her know she’d been accepted to Hogwarts. Chris took a breath and clicked on the screen with shaking fingers. She blinked as the words swam into coherent sentences in front of her. Dear Ms. Miller, The admissions committee at St. Catherine’s School…outstanding application…meaningful performance…blah, blah, blah… Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to St. Catherine’s School for the 2020-2021 school year. “I got in.” Chris almost choked on the words. “Told you.” Lesley deadpanned for a beat before she let out an excited scream. The noise ricocheted over the cracked cement courtyard of the K Street Housing Project. “Maybe now your mom will get off your case about hanging out with me.” Chris grimaced. “Maybe.” Maybe not. Lesley shimmied into a victory dance. “We need to celebrate!” Chris could predict the next words to come out of her mouth as clearly as if Lesley were reading off a script. “Do you have ten dollars?” This is why my mother doesn’t like you, Chris thought, smiling.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Sedition (Children of Erikkson1) by E.M.Wright #YA #Steampunk @Xpresso Book Tours19/5/2021
Sedition
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GIVEAWAY! The Spring Renews
-- EXCERPT: I groaned. I didn’t want to get stuck with this man at the festival. I already had plans to go with Riley, Randy, and Shelby. I didn’t want a parental escort. “Sounds great.” Rowan eyed me, keeping his posture open and his eyes as if they were smiling. Our guidance counselor had given us a lesson about body language for our school interviews next year, and, if I remembered correctly, open posture was supposed to be welcoming. Well, his welcoming stance could shove it. I didn’t want him to welcome me into whatever this was. “How long have you two been dating?” I asked. Mama’s jaw slackened. “Sophie!” Rowan waved her off. “It’s okay, Faye. I don’t mind.” He faced me. “Today is six months.” “Six months? Six months!” “Sophie, calm down.” My chair wobbled with the force from my body as I scooted backward. “You’ve been dating for half a year, and you just now say something. This is ridiculous.” I threw my napkin on the table and ran to my room. I grabbed my house key and phone and bolted out the front door. I faintly heard my name, but I refused to turn around and look. The sky was blue, with large puffy clouds—the complete opposite ambience to my mood. I wanted thunderheads and lightning streaking the sky. I wanted earthquakes and tornadoes ripping apart homes. Because then, just maybe, the rage that boiled beneath my skin wouldn’t surface. At the end of the neighborhood was a medium-sized playground. I strolled to the swings and plopped onto the middle one. I pushed hard off the ground and tucked my legs underneath. I closed my eyes and let the breeze collide with my face with each swing. The coolness and the movement lessened my rage—but only slightly. I pulled up my messages and clicked on Riley’s name. My mama is DATING someone. In fact, has been for six months! The swing slowed. I tapped my feet on the tire chips as I waited for a response. Come on, Riley. Answer me! The chirp startled me before I swiped to unlock my phone. What? Are you serious? YES! She told me this morning. Oh, and the best part is Caleb already knew. No idea for how long, but he knew. What was she thinking, Riley? I’ve never been so angry in my whole life. I’m sorry. How did you find out? The guy sat at our kitchen table this morning. He was already there when I walked around the corner. Can you believe that? Wow. Not the best introduction. He might be a nice guy, but we don’t need anyone else in our family. We’re doing just fine. What are you going to do? I don’t know. I started swinging again—back and forth, back and forth. I tried to release my anger. I tried to release it all, but my arms and legs tingled with the intensity of my clenching. I have an idea, but I’ll need your help to make it work. Whatever you need. I’m always here. Can you come by? Sure. Be there in thirty. You’re the best! I shoved my phone in my back pocket and strolled to the house. I would have just enough time to get changed, hopefully avoid Mama, and bolt from the house.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Awakened are the Starry-Eyed by Christine Doré Miller #YA @Xpresso Book Tours16/5/2021
Awakened Are the Starry-Eyed
-- EXCERPT: “Andie!” Ethan shouted with a big grin on his face. He was seated in the crowded hot tub and started to get out when he saw us. Grabbing a towel from the nearby deck chair, his long legs stumbled underneath him as he moved. “Phew,” he said when he finally planted himself by me, wrapping his left arm around me for a side hug. “Come on, man.” I laughed as the warm water dripped from his body onto my shirt. He shook his head quickly, so the droplets spritzed toward me as they flicked from his curly hair. Ethan snickered through his wide smile, his sky-blue eyes dancing. “You all right?” Carter asked him. “How much have you had to drink?” “Not enough to talk to you!” Ethan shouted, his words slurring through some forced laughter. “Ah, okay, so it’s like that? Let’s talk another time, man, after you sober up. Maybe tomorrow,” Carter offered. “I want us to be cool.” “I have an easy solution! Don’t move away!” Ethan remarked. His tone sounded like he was joking, but there was truth buried behind the inflection that Carter picked up on, too. I shot Ethan a steely glare, trying with my eyes to get him to stop talking. I didn’t need anything or anyone to give Carter a reason to stay. “I’m gonna get you some water,” Carter said. “Will you guys stay here for a bit? I’ll be back in a few.” I nodded. “We’ll miss you!” Ethan shouted mockingly. His body started swaying, and I grabbed his forearm to steady him. “Come on, Ethan, let’s go sit down in the grass over there.” I held Ethan’s arms as we lowered ourselves onto a soft grassy part of the yard, the noise from the party still buzzing in the background. Once he was planted, he flopped down on his back. “I think I can literally feel the Earth spinning,” Ethan said with a loud sigh. “Haha, I think you’re just drunk,” I replied, stretching out next to him, our heads both facing the starlit sky. Ethan turned his head to face me, his left cheek resting in the grass. I turned toward him. “You’ll be fine. You just need some water and—” “Don’t go,” he said quietly, interrupting me. “Huh? Oh, come on, you’ve got to stop giving me such a hard time for taking Carter away from the band. I promise you guys will find another singer.” “I don’t care about that,” Ethan continued, suddenly sounding clearheaded. “Don’t go, Andie.” “You can visit us whenever you want. I know it’s not the same, but we’ll still text like every day,” I reassured him. “You’re my best friend. It’s always been us against the world, you know?” He paused and took a breath. “What if I still need you even if you don’t need me anymore?” Each sentence hung more resounding in the thick, humid air as the guilt crept in, disguised as acidic, aching nausea. I squinted my eyes as if that would help me process, but all I saw was Ethan as he lay on the soft grass next to me. His smooth, chiseled face was lit by the twinkly outdoor lights in the tree above us, his pale eyes burning into mine with an earnestness I’d never seen from him before. “I have to go. You know I have to go,” I said, my voice shaking. “What if I never get out of here?” he asked quietly. “All you have to do is make the decision and start driving,” I stated, hoping that if I said it out loud, it would make it true. “It’s not that easy for everyone, Andie, and you know it. We don’t all have safety nets or parents with money. And some of us have responsibilities here. And friends.” “That’s not fair,” I started. “Are you even going to take a part of me with you? I can’t shake this feeling that you’re just going to disappear.” “Yo!” Carter’s familiar voice rang out behind us, and I shot up to a seated position. “Hey!” I said chipperly. He casually sat down next to us, crossing his legs and handing a bottle of water to Ethan as he cracked open a fresh beer for himself. Ethan slowly sat up, too, taking the water from Carter without making eye contact. “Thanks,” Ethan said softly. My mind was racing, and I felt soaked in the unrest. I loved Ethan in this profound and endearing way, but if he loved me, too, then he would understand that I wasn’t just running toward something glamorous or exciting; I was saving myself from the town and darkness that threatened to consume me with each tainted memory. There was no way we could laugh through this tension to get back to where we once were. We couldn’t binge-watch dark comedies in my parents’ basement or swap playlists of our favorite new music without tonight’s conversation bleeding into every word, every movement. I’d wonder if he was resentful that I left. He’d wonder if I even cared about what I left behind. I prayed that he was too drunk to remember tonight. If so, I could forget, too. I could push this down where the other things I chose not to remember dwelled in my body. And I was good at keeping secrets. I decided instantly that I wouldn’t tell Carter about this. He didn’t need any more reasons to reconsider coming with me, so this, too, went deep into my vault. I could examine my feelings later if I wanted to, but for now, it just needed to go away. “It was hilarious,” Carter said as I realized he had been talking. I forced a smile and a soft laugh, hoping that was the appropriate response to whatever story he told. “I need to lay down for a minute,” Ethan said dizzily as he settled back down to the grass, closing his eyes. “Yeah, he’s probably out for the night. Jeff said he had a lot to drink. We should get him out of here. He can crash at my place tonight,” Carter offered. I agreed. “Okay, come on, big guy,” Carter said as he swung Ethan’s arm around his neck and pulled him up. “Little help, babe?” he asked. I grabbed Ethan’s other arm and placed it around my shoulders to help prop him up. “Ugh,” Ethan groaned, half awake. It felt strange being this close to him, my head under his chin with his arm around my shoulders as Carter and I helped him walk toward the car. Ethan and I had shared probably a million hugs throughout our years of friendship, but this time the closeness felt different, clouded by my wondering if it would be the last time.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Twin River High Series by Kelly Anne Blount and Lynn Rush #YA @Xpresso Book Tours16/5/2021
Gutter Girl
-- EXCERPT: Ernie waited a few seconds, then slammed his hands on the counter. “Spill it! Quick, before someone else interrupts us!” I grabbed the disinfectant spray and wiped Ernie’s handprints off my counter. “Okay, so get this. After lunch, I bumped into Jace in the hallway. Our notebooks accidentally got switched. And in the process he actually gave me a compliment. It was really weird!” Ernie pushed his glasses up, then hitched his hip onto the counter and leaned toward me. He was about four inches taller than me at five-foot-nine, heavier set around his middle section. And right now, his light brown eyes were securely fastened on me as if he were hanging on my every word. “Okay, so you switched notebooks; how did that turn into people thinking you’re the author of KOS?” “He had my physics lab notebook and I got his, um, writing notebook.” “Wait, so Jace Rovers is actually WriteEmHard?” I nodded. “You should have seen my face when I opened it during lab. He had like half of it filled with his Kingdom of Swords story. There was a map in the front and everything.” Ernie hung on my every word. “He’s like ridiculously popular on Scribbles. Like, famous.” I shook my head. “His book has millions of reads.” Ernie squinted. “Why are people saying that you’re WriteEmHard if Jace is?” I told Ernie the story of how I’d claimed the notebook was mine in order to save Jace’s cute ass. Wait, cute? I did not just say Jace has a cute ass… Okay, he totally did, but I did not want to notice that cute ass. Ernie leaned forward and gave me a sly grin. “You’ve always had a crush on him.” “No, that’s not why—” “I call BS!” He pointed at me. “Summer camp. Third grade.” “Shut up.” I reached over the counter and pushed his shoulder. Ernie clasped his hands to his chest, the side his heart was on, and batted his eyelashes. “MS plus JR was all over your camp diary.” He wasn’t wrong. But I’d never said anything. Jace had never known. It was clear, even at that age, I would never run in the same crowd as him. And then summer before sixth grade happened… “Whatever.” I shook the memories out of my head. That was then. This was now. And I lived in reality. “Wow, McKenna. Seriously, wow.” Ernie leaned against the counter and smoothed out his Hawaiian shirt. “So now that this is out in the open, what are you going to do? Because your perfectly honed role of Miss Invisibility is vapor. You realize that, right?” My stomach dropped. “You’re like a celebrity now.” Ernie eased off the counter and faced me full-on, then made an arc with his hands. “I can see the headlines for the school newspaper now, Famous Author Graces the Halls of Twin River High.” “No way. People will forget all about it by tomorrow.” Won’t they? I waved him off and started sanitizing the counter where he’d been sitting. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Ernie dug his phone out of his pocket and held it up. I gasped when my picture popped up on the screen. WriteEmHardFanAccount: We have HUGE news! It was revealed a short time ago that McKenna Storm is the author behind Kingdom of Swords! According to several classmates, she’s a senior at Twin River High in Twin River, Wisconsin. Stay tuned for more info on our favorite author! We will update soon! I gulped. “Son of a hot dog.”
GIVEAWAY! Whisper
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: CHAPTER 1: OLIVIA My dad used to tell me there are people inside of marbles. They were always talking to him. Whenever I wanted to play a game, he would pick the one with marbles. Only we wouldn’t actually move the marbles. My dad would just stare at them. Finally I stopped asking to play games. But that didn’t matter. My dad would still get out the game with the marbles, and he’d put the marbles in their little resting spots and watch them. And listen. At Samantha’s house, her three-year-old sister, Cara, is playing a marble game with one of her friends. They’re off in a corner by themselves, probably wondering why all these people are stuffed inside the house, wearing dark clothes, crying randomly, and talking in hushed voices. Cara wasn’t at Samantha’s funeral. Does she understand that her sister is never coming home? I move away from Cara and fill a plate with cubes of cheese, triangles of salami, and round crackers. I chew, swallow, and make small talk. But mostly I just stare out the window at the pool and remember the last time I was here. Sixth grade. A pool party for Samantha’s birthday. She and I were friends then. We stopped being friends sometime in seventh grade. I think it had something to do with green slime, a ham sandwich, and a guy we both liked, though I’m not really sure anymore. It all seems pretty stupid now, which gives me a lumpy ache in my throat, and makes me feel like a fraud for being here. But the whole junior class was at the funeral, all ninety-eight of us. Make that ninety-seven. Plus a good part of the rest of the high school. And although not everyone made their way here after the funeral, the house is still packed, with people spilled out onto the lawn, hovering by the pool, and clutching their paper plates as if they’re life preservers. My best friend, Julia, slides up next to me. Her chestnut brown hair is arranged in its usual French braid, except a lot of strands that she missed are poking out today. She takes a loose bit and wraps it around her finger. “Brings back memories, huh?” she says, following my gaze to the pool. “Remember that sleepover in sixth grade?” “Yeah, that was fun.” Except now my brain jumps right from sleepover to sweet dreams. The Sweet Dreams Strangler. I shake my head, trying to blot out the images seared into my mind by the news media. Images of Samantha, lying in a field wearing a beautiful dress, her head on a pillow, hair neatly arranged, hands folded. Beautiful. But dead. Strangled. I don’t know what to say, even to Julia. I look back out the window. A cardinal is perched on the feeder, picking through seeds, scattering debris on the ground. “It sure is stuffy in here,” Julia says. I’m about to agree when a wall of cold air hits me. “Mrs. Young must have read your mind. Wow. That feels good.” Julia scrunches up her face. “What are you talking about?” “The air. She turned on the air. Don’t you feel it?” “No. Are you under a vent or something?” Julia peers up at the ceiling. “Here, switch places with me.” “It’s just as hot here—” “It’s just as cold—” We say it at the same time. “I guess it’s just your wishful thinking.” Julia pats my shoulder. “Enjoy. I’m going to get some more to drink.” I nod and head across the room, by the TV, where hopefully it’s warmer. Goose bumps pop up on my arms. I rub them, but it doesn’t help. Next to me Josh Wallace tosses a cube of cheese into his mouth. Is that sweat dripping off his forehead? Why am I the only one shivering? I spot a decorative blanket on the couch. Should I? I tap Marcus on the shoulder. “Sorry, could you lean forward? I just need to get something behind you.” I tug at the blanket and drape it over my shoulders. Julia is back with a drink in her hand. “Why do you have a blanket wrapped around you? Are you feeling okay?” “Not really,” I answer. “What’s that noise?” “What noise?” “That buzzing sound. Is that the TV? Maybe someone turned it on without switching on the cable box.” I fumble with the buttons on the TV. An image flashes across the screen, and a voice blares. Funeral services were held today for Samantha Young, the fourth victim of the Sweet Dreams Strangler. Mrs. Young hovers in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. All the color drains from her face. I can’t seem to move. Julia turns off the TV. The buzzing grows louder, and then I realize that it’s voices I’m hearing, lots of them, all blending together into one big buzzing sound. And then the buzzing fades away until I hear only one voice. Olivia. It’s not real. I know it’s not real. Olivia. It’s not real because the voice is Samantha’s, and Samantha is dead. Olivia! It’s not real because the voice is not coming from a person. It’s coming from a fricking figurine on the mantel. From a yellow bird with black wings and a black head. I pick up the figurine, and I hold it in my hands. This is what my dad meant when he said there were people living in marbles. And then it speaks again. Olivia! Stop him! Even though I’m kind of expecting it, Samantha’s voice scares me all the same. It makes me jump and my hands open up and that figurine smashes on the floor and breaks. And I’m a little glad because maybe now the voice will stop. But suddenly I’m burning up, the salami and cheese rumbles around in my stomach, and before I can sit, the room spins all around me and darkness sets in.
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