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Overview
While average teenage girls have to deal with the stress of pop quizzes, cheating boyfriends, two hours worth of homework, and choosing which Instagram picture makes them look the skinniest, Marie is far from a normal teenage girl.
She has no idea what is happening to her as she tries to convince herself shes either going crazy or that these new abilities of super strength, sense, and controlling the elements are just unusual signs of puberty. Things start to get even more crazy when Adam Keller, an incredibly attractive new boy, tries to tell her she is the heir to the most powerful line of witches and that its his job to train her to use her powers.
Marie somehow finds herself in the middle of a love triangle and is forced to face conflicts that make her whole world shatter. What will Marie do when she confronts having powers, killing demons, and trying to avoid a boy that makes her heart flutter? Will she be able to walk away from everything she has ever known?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781491754504 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 03/09/2015 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 250 |
| File size: | 259 KB |
| Age Range: | 13 - 17 Years |
About the Author
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Read an Excerpt
Shatter
The Boys Are Demons Series
By Meredith Hale
iUniverse
Copyright © 2015 Meredith HaleAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-5452-8
CHAPTER 1
Missing Classmates with Mentally Missing Parents
I've never been in detention before, and I never want to be again. When I first entered, a guy dressed all in black, with black lipstick and a pierced lip, walked up to me and just stared for what felt like five minutes. He didn't say anything; he just stared.
"I like your earring," I told him. The boy with black lipstick continued to silently stare me down, not even having the decency to respond to my compliment. He didn't blink when I politely informed him that the dark-emerald stone brought out the green in his hazel eyes.
Anyway, I'm officially scared of detention now.
Apart from the ticking of the clock, there was a ringing in my ears, the kind that comes with a long period of silence. I sat at my desk, bored to death, fiddling with my fingers. The maggot-white walls seemed to be closing in on me as I stared at the red arrows of the clock, willing them to move faster.
I couldn't believe I'd gotten detention for talking in class. Of course, the whole getting a D on my test could be a part of it—but still! I mean, I hadn't had time to study. The Walking Dead, Friends, and Say Yes To The Dress were on TV. (Even though they were repeats—still!)
"Cough, cough. Mazey!" I heard my best guy friend, Julian, whisper my nickname after some overly dramatic fake coughing noises from behind me.
My real name is Marie; it's pronounced like Mary. The nurse spelled my name wrong on my birth certificate (I know, right! Who doesn't know how to spell the name Mary?). Anyway, my mom had already wanted a unique spelling, so it had stuck.
"Cough, cough." Julian continued to make more obnoxious husky cough noises. "Mazey!"
I turned to see him grinning widely at me. Julian had created the nickname Mazey for me when we were kids.
At the beginning of detention, when a dozen or so students had taken their seats, Julian had chosen the seat behind me. During the first fifteen minutes, he had entertained himself by playing with my long, dark-brown hair. At first I had been half surprised to see Julian in detention. Sure, he was always up to something, but he almost never got caught.
"How'd you get allowed in here, Ms. Goody Two-shoes?" he'd asked when he'd first seen me in detention.
I was not a goody two-shoes! I'd just never gotten detention before, and the only reason I was in it was because my science teacher mentally and spiritually hated me. "I am so not a goody two-shoes," I'd told him with a scowl.
For the rest of detention, Julian continued to whisper "Ms. Goldstar" in my ear. I was starting to get annoyed. He kept trying to get me into trouble with Ms. Owen, the teacher who had the pleasure of observing detention.
"Mazey!" Julian whispered incredibly loudly.
I could almost see Ms. Owen's ears twitching. "Silence!" she shrieked, and then she went back to her magazine.
"Stop," I whispered to him. Since we were seated farther back in the classroom, Ms. Owen couldn't hear me.
"Cough, cough. Only a goody two-shoes—cough—would be whispering in detention. Cough, cough." He finally used his normal voice, and the silence made it seem as if he had shouted. Though no one could really understand a word over the fake coughing he used to mask it.
"Julian Russel! Would you stop that incessant coughing?" Ms. Owen yelled.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Julian said in his angel-innocent voice. "I just—cough—I think I'm—cough—coming down with something."
"In September?"
"I'm allergic to school." Julian tried. Ms. Owen glared at him suspiciously, but Julian tried again, not giving up on the charade. "Um, achoo?"
"Nice try. Next week detention."
"Looking forward to seeing your smiling face." He winked at her as she scowled and walked away.
I stared at the arrows on the clock and clenched my fists, wishing time would move quicker. All of a sudden, the arrows did move to tick faster than time. They just moved, with no hesitation, around the clock! I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had.
Suddenly the bell rang. It made me jump, until I realized what it was for, and then I started jumping for joy. Yes! Detention was over! I heard the class finally relax and ease up along with me. I gathered my books. As heavy as they were, I was happy and in a rush to finally get out of there. I decided that the moving of the clock arrows had just been my imagination. Probably just a lack of sleep.
"Ms. Owen has been giving me detention all month," Julian whined, pouting his puppy-dog face as we walked out of the school building together. "Do you think she has a crush on me?"
"If she doesn't, she'd be the only female in school." I smiled as we passed the huge tree that marked the school's main entrance. I tried not to trip over the sidewalk cracks that had grass growing from them.
"Other than you, of course." I saw an emotion flash in his big brown eyes, but it was gone so quickly I wasn't able to name it.
Julian truly was a heartbreaker, or at least he had the potential to be. He had long dark-brown hair that fell over his puppy-dog brown eyes. He was taller than me by maybe three inches, and there were always dimples in his cheeks, because he was almost always smiling.
"Of course. Don't think I didn't see the lunch lady slip you extra fries." We walked onto the dark asphalt parking lot among the cars of different colors and sizes. There were parents standing beside some cars, scanning the crowd of kids for their own.
"Who? Helen?"
"First name basis already, Romeo?" I raised an eyebrow at him as I brushed my long hair out of my eyes.
"I can't help that I am attractive to those in hairnets." I couldn't help but laugh at him. "So, what are you going to tell your mom about detention?" Julian knew my mom was super strict on me.
"I. Have. No. Idea." I tried to come up with something as we cut through a line of traffic that was barely moving. I usually walked to school, so my mom's car was not among the busy mess.
So I didn't have a plan figured out yet on how to deal with my mom's rage—so what? I wouldn't need an excuse until I got home. That meant I had my entire twenty-minute walk home to think it over. Maybe she wouldn't ground me if I made her a cake with icing that spelled out "I love you, Mommy." Or maybe she wouldn't ask. Maybe she'd missed the phone call. My little sister, Meg, loved to answer the phone when no one was around. So what if my mom never heard the message the school always left about a child getting detention?
But then I saw her standing there, in the midst of the chaos of the parking lot, shaking her head from side to side. She had a disapproving look on her face. This was not a good sign.
"Uh-oh," Julian muttered under his breath as he dug his hands into his loose-fitting jean pockets.
Why was it that when you got detention, the county/ school has to call your house verifying that your parents or guardians know? Didn't they know they'd just murdered my social life for the next week? There was no question from my mother's expression; I could tell I was going to be grounded. Dang, that totally ruined my afternoon—plus I still had homework.
"Hey there, Ms. Celeste." Julian used his pearly white smile on her.
"Julian." She didn't even spare a glance at him; she saved her stony face just for me.
"Well—um—bye, Mazey." Julian said and then escaped quickly.
"Bye." I stared after him. Lucky boy. He was a free man. From my mom's expression, I could already see myself in an orange jumpsuit with a beeping ankle monitor, under house arrest.
"Mare, why did you get detention?" my mother demanded, really not in the mood. Her eyes narrowed on me when I hesitated.
"I love you too, Mom. How was your day?" I asked as I slipped into the tomato-red hybrid.
"You don't care how my day was; now tell me why you got detention." She tried to wring an answer out of me.
"Why, my dear beloved mother, of course I care about your day. You are the light to my darkness. The peanut butter to my jelly. The water to my river. The—"
"Marie!" My mom let out an aggravated huff.
"Anyway, I want to hear every lovely long detail about your delightful day."
"Quit it," she ordered.
"Hey, what's for dinner?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject. I could tell from her expression that she wasn't buying it. We were driving fast; I think she was going faster than the speed limit. "You know, Mom, you shouldn't drive so fast; it's called breaking the law."
"Passing notes in class?" Apparently she had decided to just start guessing.
"Nope." I made a popping noise with my lips on the P.
"Talking in class?" she guessed, determined.
"And Bingo was his name-o," I sang, watching her reaction intently. Her expression shocked and confused me; she looked calm, though she was breathing heavily, as if she were one of those people with anger-management issues. "You know, Mom, personally I believe it is unpatriotic to give someone detention for talking in class."
"And why would it be unpatriotic, Marie?" She'd decided to just play along and humor me.
"Freedom of speech," I said simply.
"That freedom isn't honored in school."
"You mean I can't wear my 'I love guns, sniper life forever' T-shirt? Well, that just sucks."
"Anything else I should know about?" She went back to the subject at hand, sounding as if she wanted the answer to her question to be no. Sadly, that just wasn't going to be the case this time.
"Well, if we're still talking about my immature actions that I'm just so sorry about," I continued as she glared. "We did have a test ..."
"C?" she growled, not happy at all now.
"Uh, lower," I said quietly and cautiously.
"D?" She was on the edge; one lower and I think she would crack. Good thing they didn't have Zs.
"Ding, ding, ding! Man, you're on a roll, you know that? Maybe today is your lucky day. We should get a lottery ticket." I replied, blabbering on. I really had a problem with sarcasm. Don't get me wrong, I cared about getting that bad grade. I was used to a B or C being the worst. I had just completely forgotten we were having a test, so I hadn't studied—and I'd also really wanted to watch TV that day.
I had a bad habit of using sarcasm as a cover when my mom was mad at me. Luckily, we were home before I could continue to annoy her. I got out of the car, managing to slam the door a little harder than I meant to. Great, we were home! That meant I'd hide in my room until dinnertime. I wondered if we would go out to eat. In three days it would be my birthday, which meant no punishments counted and everyone had to be nice to me. I was turning the big sixteen, as in sweet sixteen. The best day of a young girl's life until her wedding, or so said all the teen magazines.
When I got inside, I ran to my room, hoping to escape my mother until dinnertime. My phone made its little ring that indicated someone texting me. My best friend, Amy, had programmed it so that whenever I got a message my phone would announce to all within hearing, "I am so popular." For some reason, Amy found that hilarious. I opened the message to see that it was from Julian. The text read: "How bad is the verdict?"
I smiled at it. Julian knew how strict my parents were and constantly picked on me for it. "Grounded. What else would you expect?" I included a sad face.
I continued to text Julian and finish my homework until my mom called me down for dinner.
The next day, Amy and I were walking to our class while I was informing her about how my mother would be detaining me for my not-so-criminal acts.
"Man if I get detention again, my mom is going to kill me! Or send me to jail. And you know how I feel about big, bright-orange jumpsuits." I continued to whine as we passed the dark-blue lockers that lined the hallway on either side and attempted to push my way through the traffic of other students.
"Hey, at least you get off in two days, for your birthday! My mom wouldn't even let me have a slice of cake!" Amy squealed. We were walking down the long hallway. Amy had bleached-blonde highlights in her dirty-blonde hair that leaned more toward a light brown. She had light-blue eyes that had tints of silver and gray at moments. She was the stereotypical (and I mean this in a kind way) gorgeous cheerleader that everyone wanted to be. Amy, Julian, and I had been friends since kindergarten. I loved them like a brother (that I actually liked) and sister.
"So, anyway, did you meet the new guy yet?" Amy moved on quickly to gossip.
"What new guy?" I lived in such a boring town that a new kid was usually the pinnacle of excitement. (Well, other than the weird fire that was still running play-by-play in my mind.) There was really no reason for anyone to move to Sunville. It was in Maryland, a place known for crab cakes and, as far as I know, nothing else. Once I saw the sheriff at the library, and I hadn't even known Sunville had a sheriff. We certainly didn't have any crime. I loved Sunville, but it was one of those towns that, if you didn't escape when you were young, you'd never leave.
"The totally hot one, of course. I think he's foreign or something. He doesn't have an accent, but he just acts different."
"Weird different?" I asked.
"No. Different different."
"I completely understand what you just said," I said sarcastically.
"He just ... he acts so mature ... and mannerly."
"A sixteen-year-old boy who is mannerly?" I questioned his existence. "He must be an alien."
"What if he's a vampire!"
"I think you've officially read too much Twilight, Amy. Or you've at least watched too much Vampire Diaries to last a life time."
"First of all, you know I plan to marry Ian Somerhalder. But anyway it makes sense, doesn't it? All these people missing. He acts like he's never heard slang words before—"
"Slang words like what?" I inquired.
"Fudge."
"Fudge? Are we in sixth grade again?" I raised my eyebrows at her. "That's not a slang word; that's a creative substitute for cussing."
"Yeah, well, Shane said it in English, and the new guy's all like, 'What's food got to do with anything?'" Amy eyeballed me as if what she'd just said changed everything.
"Whoa, he knows what fudge really is!" I mocked her, gasping for dramatic effect. "You're right—he must be a vampire."
"Just you wait. I'll prove it to you." Amy looked determined.
"What's his name, anyway?"
"Whose name?"
"The new guy's."
"Oh. I don't know."
"You, Amy, the queen of all that is gossip, don't know the supposedly hot new guy's name, and yet somehow you know he is a vampire?"
"Do you think it's Edward?"
Amy was officially boy-obsessed. Which was fine for her, because boys actually liked her back. Boys have always confused me; they have also always acted as though I have some sort of Y-chromosome plague. Though to be honest, I'm okay with not liking any boys in high school. Let me explain my first semester English-class freshman year with this example.
Boy 1 (I never learned his name): "Did you ever wonder what germ-x tastes like?"
Boy 2 (I believe his name was Kyle, but it also could have been Lucas): "Honestly, man, I have never once wondered that."
Two minutes later, a shrill, almost girlish scream erupts from Boy 1.
Boy 2 (Let's just call him Kyle): "Dude! I can't believe you just ate germ-x!"
Boy 1: "Eugh." He forms a repulsive sound as he continues to gag. "Water! Water!"
Me, one minute later: "Wow, listen to this." I read from the germ-x bottle. "If ingested, please contact poison control."
That seemed to be the one thing that was similar with other schools: boys (the weirdest creatures on this earth). The male species at my age were usually either heartthrobs who already had girlfriends or were completely immature, like Boy 1. But then there was Drake. Oh, Drake.
His dirty-blond hair was just long enough that when he looked at you it seemed as if he was looking up from underneath it. And his eyes ... you felt as if you could jump into the pools of melt-worthy chocolate and let them warm you. And yes, he had the long, dark Maybelline lashes that struck jealousy into every girl's heart. I mean, why do boys get the long eyelashes? It's just not fair.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Shatter by Meredith Hale. Copyright © 2015 Meredith Hale. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse.
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