Excerpts from Airel: The Awakening by Aaron Patterson & Chris White
----------------- EXCERPT #1 ---------------------
“Nice shirt,” Kim said. She was my best friend, my shopping buddy. We were an unlikely story, the two of us, but that was what made it work. She glared at my shirt as she sat down next to me. “You took the tags off, didn’t you?”
“Called it,” I said.
She made a face to punish me for my insolence, but then took off on a whole different subject.
That’s my Kim.
“So,” she said, “you hear about the new guy yet?” She looked around and lowered her voice as if it was a crime to talk about a boy in class.
“Ah … no,” I said. “And what does it matter? It’s not like I care.” I rolled my eyes, assuming she was talking about the latest supposedly super-hot guy who had caught her momentary attention. Mostly it just gave her something new to talk about. Kim loved to talk—that much I could count on. I opened my history book and pretended to read, hoping she would drop the subject. I knew better.
“Come on, Airel. When he sees you, he’ll fall madly in love and beg you for your hand in marriage.” She giggled. She was always so energetic. Most people had their good days and bad days, their moods going from hot to cold, but not Kim. She was full speed ahead, no brakes. I had to admit, sometimes she was the only thing that kept me looking on the bright side of life.
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “You’re the boy-crazy one, not me. He is all yours. Just remember, they have cooties.”
She scoffed, but then quieted down as Mr. Brashear began the class. She propped her phone into her history book, pretending to read, and began texting whoever she was always texting. She had bazillions of friends, as far as I could tell. And though Kim even had friends at other schools and they texted back and forth non-stop, she and I had something special. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
I kicked her leg and she grunted, dropping her phone. It clattered loudly on her desk, and I grinned an evil smile. She shot me the stink eye, threatening me under her breath.
I rolled my eyes at her, ending the episode.
I wanted to zone out in history, which was what I normally did. After all, this class was only about what had already been done, and how boring was that? I had my head down and was trying to will my headache away, but not having much luck.
“Ah, there you are,” Mr. Brashear said loudly, snapping me out of my trance. “Good of you to join us, Mr. Alexander.”
I looked up, trying to bring my vision into focus, fighting that stupid pesky headache.
“Sorry,” a voice said.
It was familiar to me.
“I don’t really know my way around the halls yet.”
My eyes focused. It was him.
------------------------- EXCERPT #2 --------------------------------
“CLASS, THIS IS MICHAEL Alexander. Michael, welcome to Borah High. Please take your seat.” Mr. Brashear turned back to the board while Michael began moving toward the only empty seat, just one over from mine. I wanted to shake my fist at the sky and shout, “Why, God, why,” but I couldn’t do that in the middle of History 301.
As he moved through the motionless room, I felt the difference his presence made.
I didn’t want to, but I was staring, too numb to do anything about it. He smiled as he looked around. His wheat- colored hair was spiked up softly, wildly, in the most out-of-control, amazing way. I felt my heart speed up as his bright blue eyes fell on me.
There he was. Mr. Napkins. I was Miss Coffee Spill, and I so wanted to be Mrs. Napkins.
I felt heat rising to the surface of my face. I’d never felt anything like this. Airel, what is wrong with you? This is so not like you.Michael moved with smooth grace. I was gawking, staring like some love-struck calf. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me. This was so stupid. Why was I acting like this?
But I could hear the universe calling my number, and I was stunned to discover that I had really been waiting in line all this time, staring wide-eyed, ticket in hand. But I don’t want this. I held my breath without realizing it. The draw I felt toward him was overpowering.
He sat in his seat and looked straight ahead, and I shook my head ungracefully. Just as fast as the room had stopped, it launched itself into hyper speed, and then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Kim, wearing a big, dumb grin on her face. Her eyes sparkled as she said, “Wow, girl. You’re as red as a lobster.”
“What?” I said. It came out as a raspy, forced whisper, but it was all I could manage. Kim was stifling a laugh. I slunk down behind my history book. “Shut up, Kim.” But she just smiled and batted her eyes. I really didn’t like her right now. Maybe I could find a new best friend.
***
THE CLASS BELL RANG. I jumped up and rushed out the door, desperate for the bathroom. I didn’t feel well. I turned on the water and splashed its cold wetness over my warm cheeks, trying to cool myself down and shake my mind from the maddening fog that had overtaken me. It wasn’t like me to freak out about a boy. I was the last girl in the world to go gaga over a good-looking guy. But it was more than that. So what if he was good-looking—there were lots of hot guys around. It was something else, and I was starting to think it was really a spell.
I looked in the mirror. “Aw, man.” My face looked like I’d just had my first kiss and then sat under a heat lamp for a few hours.
Kim came in and stood with her foot jammed at the bottom of the door—so she could grill me in private, no doubt. “So,” she said, “you see the new guy?”
I shook my head and rubbed the back of my neck. “Whatever. I was hot. That classroom … it’s always so muggy, and I had a headache.”
“Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed.”
I ignored her, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and splashed more cold water on the back of my neck. I was relieved to see my face returning to its normal slightly fair hue.
Kim just grunted and smirked and looked down at her nails, inspecting them, looking up at me in little snatches of concern. “Well, I think he’s ugly. Besides, what kind of name is ‘Michael Alexander?’ It’s like he has two first names. I mean, what is he, America’s Next Teen Pop Superstar?” Her face was calm. Much too calm.
She’s totally mocking me. I couldn’t help smiling. His face filled my mind for a split second. I could feel my blood warming, rising to my face again. I thought of all the dumb 80s song lyrics that my parents continually tortured me with. “Hey,” I said, trying to go on offense a little, “you and I both know he’s gorgeous, so stop lying. I don’t know what came over me. The room was actually spinning.”
“Oh, the room was spinning? That’s news. Airel, are you crazy? Because, like, how did I miss that?”
“Kim, I don’t know. You know this isn’t like me at all. Something weird is going on. When he walked in, I completely lost it. It was weird. It’s like the clock stopped. Or jumped forward. Am I going crazy?”
“Yeah, and he looked at you like he knew you or something,” she said, coming closer to me, a little worry showing on her features.
I couldn’t make my mind stop. It was racing, replaying every second of our first meeting—the coffee, his hand, his smile. He looked at me like he knew me, looked me right in the eyes, saw me, and I could feel him searching me, looking for something, perhaps some kind of confirmation from me that I knew him too. My heart fluttered with the memory of that moment. I suddenly had this insane desire to cry and laugh at the same time.
Kim made a kissing sound, reaching out to me. “Loooove, Airel.”
I brushed her off, moving to an empty stall and locking myself in.
“You should see yourself. You so just went all googly eyed over him.”
I fell to my knees as crippling pain suddenly shot through my side. I couldn’t help whimpering. Then a sickening wave of warmth washed over me and I was instantly depressed. Hello, roller coaster. Wow, what’s your name? Could it be Michael Alexander? Ugh. Or maybe it’s just barf. “Ugh,” I said aloud, turning toward the toilet. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Loooovesick.” Kim was clearly enjoying my discomfort, but I had no time to defend myself. I bent and threw up into the toilet. Oh, dear God. This is fun. I was totally heaving in the high school bathroom.
Kim snapped out of taunting mode and rushed in to help me, going back into best-friend mode. I lost my dinner and yesterday’s lunch and started to wonder if maybe I should have had breakfast after all—was that why I was so sick all of a sudden? Skipping breakfast? There is a nasty flu going around this year…
Kim held my hair and rubbed my back. I didn’t know I was crying until I saw the tears splashing onto the floor and heard myself sobbing. I’m crying. Why am I crying? My stomach felt like a knife had been plunged into it and my whole body convulsed as I tried to stand up, my legs shaking like a newborn colt.
Kim helped me to the nurse’s station and soon after, I was on my way home, looking like death in the passenger seat. Trusty Kim was driving my trusty Honda. It was a good thing Mom was at work, and that Dad was out of town. I hoped I would be feeling better by the time Mom got home because she had a tendency to go overboard when I got sick. Parents.
Kim parked in the driveway and helped me up the stairs, and even though it was the middle of the day, I went to bed and fell asleep feeling cold and scared. Maybe I wasn’t lovesick and something was really wrong with me.
----------------------------------------- EXCERPT #3 ------------------------------------------
I WOKE UP THE next morning with the never-ending headache and dried tears on my face. I couldn’t remember much about what had happened after I’d come home yesterday. I had a vague recollection of Kim putting me to bed and Mom coming in at some point with a worried look on her face.
I did remember parts of a nightmare. There was a black figure—a horrible, cloaked presence trailing black tar coming after me. I had to admit that scared the crap out of me. Dreams could be weird sometimes, that much I knew from experience, but I’d never had any that were quite so vividly terrifying.
Lying in bed, processing, I tried to wriggle out from the remains of yesterday. It had wrapped me up in a cocoon of thoughts and a tangle of blankets. I finally realized that I had swapped ends in the night; my head was at the foot of my bed and my feet were on my pillow. Whoa, I must have slept rough—rougher than usual, anyway. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up on my elbows and looked at the clock. Wonder of all wonders, it was still early and I had time before school. I struggled out of bed—backwards—and trudged to the bathroom. Guess bad dreams have good points to them. At least I have time for a decent start to my day. Maybe today will be better.
Inevitably, I thought about him—the boy who I felt knew me. Michael Alexander fluttered into and around my thoughts, and I started to blush again. I couldn’t explain what was happening to me. Why do I react like this to him? It was really weird, because I could see his face just as clearly as if he was standing right in front of me. Normally I couldn’t do that with guys I liked. Come on, Airel. Get a hold of yourself. You haven’t said two words to him, and you like him already? What a moron.
I turned the shower to super-hot and waited for the warmth to kick in. I looked in the mirror and noticed that the normal dark circles under my eyes were surprisingly faint this morning. I would have thought that after a day and night like I’d just had, I’d look like the corpse bride.
I flashed my fake smile into the mirror, and that made me smile for real. I didn’t really think I was “all that,” but I knew I had a few good things going for me. I felt like I looked really good today, and I had just rolled out of bed. That made me smile even more.
After a long, hot shower, I pulled on my blue jeans and my favorite T-shirt—the one with Bob Marley on it. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I always had to do that after a shower—otherwise, it would get frizzy and curl like no one’s business, turning into a puffball or a fro.
I headed downstairs, not having to sprint for once. Our house was like most, with several bedrooms, a family room, and a big kitchen. The upstairs was where my room was, plus my parents’ room and two spare rooms: one for guests, one for Kim. She stayed the night at least three times a week. Most of the time she just slept on the floor in my room, even though Mom had set her up with her own, and we would end up talking all night. So her room was mostly just a landing place for all her junk.
I put two strawberry Pop-Tarts in the toaster, noticing for the first time that it was raining outside. Great. One last day of sunshine yesterday and I was sick for most of it. I made a mental note to grab a light jacket before I left the house. I felt fine today, I noticed. Other than the bad dream, I felt good. I looked good, and I knew it. I wanted to get out and do something after school, but figured it was too cold and rainy.
I nibbled my Pop-Tarts, which tasted good all the way down to my painfully empty stomach. I really hoped I’d be able to keep it down today. Michael’s face presented itself in my memory. I tried to banish him from my mind. I had to squash any thought of him—I didn’t need or want that kind of drama in my life right now.
I grabbed my jacket and started for the door, trying not to wake my mom. She never slept in and today was her day off, so I knew she would want to. She was like most moms. Protective and maybe a bit overbearing, but she meant well and I knew it. She worked at a flower shop. Not that she had to, but she liked to keep busy.
Since I was an only child and in school most of the day, she would climb the walls all alone if she didn’t do something, so Dad had told her to go find something she would enjoy. She found a little shop called Just Flowers and started working there years ago. I teased her constantly about being so old-fashioned—such a stereotypical housewife, working at a flower shop—but she loved all things plants. If it was nice out, she could be found without exception in the yard, planting, digging, or pulling weeds. We had the nicest yard in the neighborhood.
As for Dad, well, I wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but he was gone a lot. He was a sales rep for some company or other—it didn’t matter much to me. He was a quiet guy and didn’t bring his job home. He got bonuses sometimes, which we always used to go on family vacations. Those times were the happiest for me, when we were all together.
Last summer was the best. Dad took us all to Disney World, and I even got to bring Kim along. Her mom was cool with stuff like that. Kim’s dad left when she was young, so she was basically part of our family.
The rain was really coming down, so I ran to my car, hoping to dodge the raindrops. I opened the driver’s door to my Honda and got in. Before I could turn the key, I felt a horrendous, debilitating pain dragging razor blades up and down my arms and legs, deep inside me. “Owww,” I shrieked before I could stop myself. But then, just as fast as it had come, it was gone, and I was left sitting there in its wake, hyperventilating and wondering what was wrong with me.
Blurb: The Lions Lady is a story of a white girl, Christiana, who
was brought up and protected by an Indian tribe, Dakota, in America. She was
given to Merry, a native American, by a English woman Jessica before she died.
Merry bought her to the tribe an as .
The Indian shaman had seen her as a lioness protected by buffaloes and the
bought her up as their own. She was raised and bought up by Merry and her
husband in a way that she could go back to England to find the man who killed
her mother. Christiana find her maternal
aunt and comes to London to attend her first season. She is an instant hit and
is called the Princes by the Brummell himself. She is able to keep herself
detached from everyone except a man called lion.
