Just One Drop by Quinn Loftis
Once I got in I buckled my seatbelt. The rocks around me became illuminated as a light came down the pass. Another vehicle traveled the road.
My car started with one turn of the ignition and I looked over my shoulder to back up. An anxious feeling ran through me. The light was too bright now, too close. Too late I realized what was happening and frantically tried to get the door open.
Then a thousand unpleasant sensations happened all at once.
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Please enjoy this excerpt from
“The Legacy of Kilkenny”
by Devyn Dawson
Chapter 1. Sleep
ABEL
Rolling over in bed, pulling the pillow over my head, didn’t help to muffle the noise that assaulted me awake. I sail across the room to bang my hand on my alarm clock until it is silenced, nice way to start my day. Not any day, my first day of my junior year. If things work out right, I’ll have enough money saved up to buy a car by the end of this semester. Until then, I get to ride with my mom. Lame right? It’s six in the morning, usually I’d be dragging ass since I didn’t fall asleep until four, but the first day jitters have me amped awake.
Last night I was almost asleep, and then I heard the neighbors’ dogs barking, which kept me up. Not to mention, before that happened, I saw the crazy lady across the street sneaking to water her lawn. It had been another dry summer in Oklahoma; a water rationing ordinance is in place. If anyone is caught watering their lawn, they are slapped with a hundred dollar fine. It is beyond me how she isn’t caught, being she is the only one with green grass on our street. Why risk a ticket for green grass? I never saw what caused the dogs to bark, but I was amazed that no one even bothered shushing them. No lights. No yelling. Nothing.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! I just love the wonderful sounds of the broom stick banging on the ceiling, which happens to be the floor to my room. It is one of my mom’s wonderful ideas to make sure I was awake, it sounded like a sonic boom went off under the bed. “I’m up!” I yell down to her as I bang my baseball bat on the floor. BOOM! “Mom, I’m up!” Scrambling across the room to yell out from my bedroom door, I stub my big toe on my hand weight I forgot to put away. “Shit,” I grumble under my breath.
As I do every morning, I send a text to my sister Allie, telling her to get up. I know for a fact she sleeps with the phone by her head so she can see status updates as they come across the phone. We’re both insomniacs, so mornings always come too soon. I’ve been her personal alarm clock for the last year when our mom suggested I start calling her to wake her up. So, she gets to go away and I’m still responsible to make sure she is responsible. She starts her second year at college, and I’m stuck here to entertain the parents.
The silence after she moved out was deafening. In the beginning, I would get up and walk around my room trying to make my mind shut up and let me sleep. I would hear the mumbling of my mom and dad talking, or whatever it is parents do behind closed doors when they think their kids are sleeping. I miss having Allie just a wall away, now there’s no one tapping on the wall checking if I’m awake. I don’t miss her dramatic attitude, but I do miss her driving me to school. For someone that is 5’3” and weighs next to nothing, she has enough attitude to put Chelsea Handler to shame.
The kitchen still smells of fresh paint and sawdust from the recent renovation. I’ve logged hours and hours of being in home improvement stores, staring at colors of paint. Yellow apparently isn’t just yellow anymore, it is sweet buttery cream not to be confused with buttery cream. I think it took my mom about a month to pick a color, just the other night I heard her talking about changing it. Argh. My usual backpack parking place is on the counter by the barstools…. not anymore. I might scratch the granite and I’ll be reminded how long it took her and dad to save up to have a nice kitchen. I drop my stuff by the back door for our frantic escape to get to school on time.
At breakfast, mom pours herself a cup of coffee, her big mop of black curly hair looking especially wild. Sometimes it is hard to discern between freshly fixed up hair or morning bed-head. I know better than to ask. Mom is just mom, sorta on the weird side but strangely likeable. She isn’t overly fond of her given name of Natalie, she prefers to go by Nat. She is telling me something about the cost of eggs and how it only cost her five dollars to fill up her tank when she was in high school, blah blah blah. Another morning of her non-stop chatter, a good indication she had too much caffeine.
“Is dad working tonight?” I ask as I reach around her to grab a Pop Tart and napkin.
“Abel, have you ever known your dad to miss a day of work?” Mom said as she dabbed at the coffee she dribbled on the table.
“I dunno, maybe. Hey, I’ve got a FBLA meeting after school; I’m catching a ride home with Shane so you don’t need to bother with car pool today. Okay?”
“If it gets me out of dodging crazed high school drivers, I’m good with it, just make sure you’re home by six.”
“We probably should go, don’t want to be late on my first day and all.” I shove another Pop Tart in my backpack as we both head to the car.
The car pool lane is moving so slow, move already! I can’t wait until I get a car; riding with my mom is so lame.
“Don’t forget to call me when you get home, I’ll have my cell on me. Oh, in case I’m not home there are some enchilada’s in the freezer, just heat them up in the microwave.” Mom reached in her purse handing me a fifty. “That is lunch money, so be sure to give it to the cafeteria lady.”
“It’s all good. Bye mom, I’ll see you later.” I hurried up out of the car before she started getting emotional like every year on my first day of school.
I look up at the picture perfect school. The architect must have modeled it after a story book, with its pitched roof, canopy covered walkway and crimson red bricks. Water rationing doesn’t pertain to schools, they want them to look pretty and inviting so the kids are proud of their school. I learned all that from my mom’s unquenchable thirst of news. The Daily Pied (pronounced pee’d) is her source of news that would never make it to the paper if it were one of the big hitters like The Oklahoman.
Catching up to Shane we fist bumped and strolled in as if we own the place.
“You going to the meeting after school?” Shane asks.
“Yeah, is it still cool if I get ride from you?” Like he’d say no, I think to myself.
“No problem. I gotta go, see you at lunch.”
Second hour I’m sitting in English Comp III thinking about how this room didn’t make it when they were going for kids being proud of school. The prison cell gray cinder block walls have two windows that look out over the dumpsters. I see the secretary sneak out and huddle behind one of the dumpsters having a smoke, totally breaking the no tolerance rule. I turn my attention back to class when I notice everyone is whispering like a swarm of bees. Gossip. It is impossible not to turn my head and see what everyone is talking about. She is the hottest girl that has graced my school’s hallways since Allison Chambers, class of 2009. Now that girl was hot.
Julie Tidsdale, the one girl that drove most everyone crazy, is sitting directly in front of me. Julie is the queen of girls at school, and you can almost see her back arch and her fangs come out as she notices the girl that walks in. Mrs. Horn comes over and introduces the class to Prudence Phelan.
“Please call me Pru.” Her gray eyes look confident as she stands there in front of the class for everyone to gawk at. The curves of her body not hidden under the navy blue baby-tee, it just so happens to make her red hair look amazing. Her voice, oh man her voice is incredibly sexy, husky but not in a boy way. I knew at that moment what my dad meant when he said a girl that has everything you could ever dream of was trouble… and trouble just walked into my English Comp III class.
My next class is US History, my least favorite subject. The teacher is new to the school and looks just like Jack Black. Actually, he look
The woods were so thick, I could hear them gaining on me. She kept telling me to go left and once I hit the clearing skirt around the edges to the right for about 30 feet and head back into the woods. A hiking trail is there so it will be easier to gain speed. I was getting hot but I had to keep going. I lost them at the clearing so that gave me a little time. I heard a warning shot, I knew it was a ploy though there were three of them and the one with the gun went another direction. I could hear the brush moving behind me so I knew the guy with the bow was back there. Her voice, I heard it again (in my head), Run! There is a cave close to where you are. She was talking but I could see the image of what she was telling me. It sounded just like Pru. Damn, the devil’s thorn was thick and growing over the path, I knew I was bleeding but I couldn’t stop yet. That voice again, hurry, get in the cave, they won’t see it, you’ll be safe. I’ll be there soon. Don’t move. I jumped over two fallen trees and climbed into the cave just in time to hear the hunter stop, I peered out, he didn’t see me… but I took a mental picture so I’d remember his face. I lay down, the ground was cool and I was so hot. I needed water.
I feel someone shaking me, I jump sitting straight up. “Whoa! What the?” I turn to see everyone looking at me. I hate it when I fall asleep in class. Thankfully I didn’t drool all over myself.
During lunch, I see Julie trying to take pictures of her and Pru. I notice Julie is the only one making the kissy face, Pru looks bored out of her mind, which I admire. Every time I look in their direction, Julie has her arm stretched out as far as it will go taking self portraits. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the point. I mean seriously, is it really necessary to document your look, minute by minute?
Girls in high school have their own set of rules. One, keep track of the competition, from what she wears to who she knows. Two, what does she drive? Three, who has she done? Four, who are her parents? The list goes on and on. Guys, well we don’t get that deep, we just want to know what’s for lunch? I’m not what you’d call the ladies man, sad but true. I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since eighth grade and I’m not totally sure if two weeks is considered a steady relationship. Our school is so small that we are environmentally friendly, relationships are frequently recycled yet Julie Tidsdale isn’t worth recycling to me.
“Hey Shane, did you see Julie trying to get the new girl to be her new bestie?” I say as I shove a French fry in my mouth.
“She’s just dumb, I can’t stand that girl. I can’t believe I’m friends with someone that had their lips on that pain in the ass,” Shane says as he digs frantically through his backpack. He pulls out permission slips for his home economics class.
“Being you’re the only guy in school who hasn’t made out with her, don’t hate. It was eighth grade; I’ve raised my standards since then. Is that a home ec slip?” I ask pointing at the paper in his hand.
“Oh, don’t hate Abe, I’m sure not taking cooking classes from my mom, if you know what I mean?” Shane says as he laughs to himself.
Even though I agree with him about his mom’s cooking, I’m not going to admit to it. “I’ll see you at the meeting. I’ve got to stop by my locker before math so I’ll catch you on the flip side.”
The rest of the day is full of the same crap every day is filled with. By the end of the day, every guy had taken a pic of Pru’s assets and shared it with all of their friends; their friends shared it with theirs and so on and so on. Everyone had the nerve to sneak a pic, except me. I luckily have friends that feel it their personal responsibility to make sure I have copies of the pics too.
Where to find Devyn Dawson Books
http://www.amazon.com/Legacy-Kilkenny-ebook/dp/B0055JCFDQ
http://www.devyndawson.com/
Quinn Loftis, Just One Drop