CHAPTER 2
Alina stayed in the family room, away from the front door. She didn’t know what would happen when her mother welcomed Grandma Bea into their home. That is, if her mother welcomed her. From what she’d learned, they hadn’t seen Bea in close to twelve years -- right after her dad had died. She knew it couldn’t have been a good time. In fact, if she had to guess, she bet her mom had been the one who severed the ties, not the other way around.
In addition to that, meeting a grandma she didn’t know would be weird. What did the woman even look like? Was she tall? Short? Fat? Thin? What about her personality? Was her grandma nice or a cranky old hag? Alina had had no idea.
Grabbing the caramel-colored afghan, she wrapped herself up and sank into the corner of their dark brown couch. Brown, brown, brown. Just the way she liked it. With her brown hair, brown eyes -- heck, even her skin looked perpetually tan -- she felt like a chameleon, camouflaged by her surroundings.
Going unnoticed had many advantages though it happened more often than she liked. Still, it meant she was safe. She didn’t have to fear the judgment of her classmates or the rest of the world, for that matter.
A knock came from the door, causing her shoulders to tense. Tilting her head, she tried to listen better. Moments later she heard the front door open. Her mom was the first to speak.
“Hello, Bea.”
“Hello, Sharon.”
Hello, awkward situation. From their voices she could tell they both felt nervous.
“I’m glad you came,” her mom continued. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
“It’s okay. After what happened…”
“Bea, it’s happening again.”
Silence filled the hall. A moment later, Grandma Bea spoke. “Are…are you sure? She’s sixteen years old. That’s way past the typical knowing point.”
“Bea, she stopped a six thousand pound Chevy Tahoe without touching it.”
Grandma Bea said, “Oh.”
More silence prevailed.
Alina imagined them staring at each other, unsure what to say next. Then her grandma spoke again. “I need to see her.”
“I know Bea, but I’m scared. I can’t do this again.”
“Sorry, Sharon. We don’t have a choice.”
“What if we wait a little bit? It’s gone unnoticed for so long. Nothing major has happened. No one’s even approached her…”
“No one’s approached her yet. There are enemies out there. If Alina’s been chosen, she needs to start training now. It’s the only way she’ll survive.”
Enemies? Chosen? Survive?
It was time to get off the couch.
Dropping the afghan to the floor, Alina rose up and tip-toed to the corner of the room. Then she peeked into the hallway, hoping to get a glimpse of her grandma before her grandma got a glimpse of her.
It didn’t work.
“Alina, is that you?”
Busted. Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the hall and into the foyer. There stood her grandma. A short, slight woman, she wore a periwinkle dress as well as a nervous smile. The gray bun in her hair and wire-rimmed glasses made her look sort of soft, maternal. For a grandmother she would do just fine, at least when it came to appearances. As for what she said about training and survival? That continued to be up for debate.
“Come here, dear,” Grandma Bea said. “Let’s take a look at you. It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Alina spun in a circle like a five year-old showing off a party dress. Could she act any lamer?
“Such a pretty girl.” Her grandma beckoned her closer with a hand. “Let me see your face.”
Hunching down to eye-level with Grandma Bea, she saw her grandma’s expression change. With unsettling seriousness, the woman peered into Alina’s eyes. No, she stared.
“Are you sure about this, Sharon? I see nothing.”
“I didn’t either,” said her mom. “But I can’t deny what happened.”
Her eyes, again. What was going on? Befuddled, Alina watched as Grandma Bea tapped a finger to her lips.
“If only we could be sure,” her grandma said. Then she raised her finger as if saying, aha! Clutching the small purse dangling off her shoulder, she turned her back to Alina and her mom then started rustling through its contents. “If you’ll just give me a minute…”
A minute? It took less than a second. In a blaze of motion, the tiny woman swung around, brandishing a five-foot sword. She raised it high in the air before swinging it back down toward Alina’s head.
Three thoughts raced through Alina’s mind in rapid succession:
1. How did she pull that great, big weapon out of such a tiny purse?
2. How did she manage to get that great, big weapon over her head?
3. Oh, man! She’s trying to kill me!
Crossing her arms with lightning speed, Alina felt a surge of electricity as she thrust both palms out toward her sides with one huge sweeping motion. The sword flew out of Grandma Bea’s hands, piercing the living room wall twenty-two feet to her right.
Whoa. Did she just do that?
A warm, prickly feeling washed over her as she stood there in amazement, watching the sword wiggle up and down until it stopped. She looked back at Grandma Bea.
“Well,” her grandma said, matter-of-factly. “It appears you do have something. We need to take you to your Uncle Raynor’s house right away.”
“Raynor’s house?” her mom said. “We will do no such thing.”
“Sharon, he’s the best.”
“He’s also a jerk.”
“It’s not his fault. He’s been absorbing darkness for a long time now.”
“Which means he’s worse than when I knew him before. There has got to be someone else.”
The two women continued bickering as Alina eased into the background.
She didn’t care about some guy named Uncle Raynor. Right now she cared about what had happened. Chucking a sword through a wall without touching it? That was the coolest thing she’d ever done! Once the thrill settled into her brain, however, she began to feel uneasy.
All the talk from before about enemies and survival sounded so ominous. If she could fling a sword without touching it but still needed training to survive, what could her enemies do?
(Continue on to Chapter 3)
(Go back to Chapter 1)
(Enough, already. I want to buy this. Take me back to the page with the buy links, STAT!)
In addition to that, meeting a grandma she didn’t know would be weird. What did the woman even look like? Was she tall? Short? Fat? Thin? What about her personality? Was her grandma nice or a cranky old hag? Alina had had no idea.
Grabbing the caramel-colored afghan, she wrapped herself up and sank into the corner of their dark brown couch. Brown, brown, brown. Just the way she liked it. With her brown hair, brown eyes -- heck, even her skin looked perpetually tan -- she felt like a chameleon, camouflaged by her surroundings.
Going unnoticed had many advantages though it happened more often than she liked. Still, it meant she was safe. She didn’t have to fear the judgment of her classmates or the rest of the world, for that matter.
A knock came from the door, causing her shoulders to tense. Tilting her head, she tried to listen better. Moments later she heard the front door open. Her mom was the first to speak.
“Hello, Bea.”
“Hello, Sharon.”
Hello, awkward situation. From their voices she could tell they both felt nervous.
“I’m glad you came,” her mom continued. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
“It’s okay. After what happened…”
“Bea, it’s happening again.”
Silence filled the hall. A moment later, Grandma Bea spoke. “Are…are you sure? She’s sixteen years old. That’s way past the typical knowing point.”
“Bea, she stopped a six thousand pound Chevy Tahoe without touching it.”
Grandma Bea said, “Oh.”
More silence prevailed.
Alina imagined them staring at each other, unsure what to say next. Then her grandma spoke again. “I need to see her.”
“I know Bea, but I’m scared. I can’t do this again.”
“Sorry, Sharon. We don’t have a choice.”
“What if we wait a little bit? It’s gone unnoticed for so long. Nothing major has happened. No one’s even approached her…”
“No one’s approached her yet. There are enemies out there. If Alina’s been chosen, she needs to start training now. It’s the only way she’ll survive.”
Enemies? Chosen? Survive?
It was time to get off the couch.
Dropping the afghan to the floor, Alina rose up and tip-toed to the corner of the room. Then she peeked into the hallway, hoping to get a glimpse of her grandma before her grandma got a glimpse of her.
It didn’t work.
“Alina, is that you?”
Busted. Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the hall and into the foyer. There stood her grandma. A short, slight woman, she wore a periwinkle dress as well as a nervous smile. The gray bun in her hair and wire-rimmed glasses made her look sort of soft, maternal. For a grandmother she would do just fine, at least when it came to appearances. As for what she said about training and survival? That continued to be up for debate.
“Come here, dear,” Grandma Bea said. “Let’s take a look at you. It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Alina spun in a circle like a five year-old showing off a party dress. Could she act any lamer?
“Such a pretty girl.” Her grandma beckoned her closer with a hand. “Let me see your face.”
Hunching down to eye-level with Grandma Bea, she saw her grandma’s expression change. With unsettling seriousness, the woman peered into Alina’s eyes. No, she stared.
“Are you sure about this, Sharon? I see nothing.”
“I didn’t either,” said her mom. “But I can’t deny what happened.”
Her eyes, again. What was going on? Befuddled, Alina watched as Grandma Bea tapped a finger to her lips.
“If only we could be sure,” her grandma said. Then she raised her finger as if saying, aha! Clutching the small purse dangling off her shoulder, she turned her back to Alina and her mom then started rustling through its contents. “If you’ll just give me a minute…”
A minute? It took less than a second. In a blaze of motion, the tiny woman swung around, brandishing a five-foot sword. She raised it high in the air before swinging it back down toward Alina’s head.
Three thoughts raced through Alina’s mind in rapid succession:
1. How did she pull that great, big weapon out of such a tiny purse?
2. How did she manage to get that great, big weapon over her head?
3. Oh, man! She’s trying to kill me!
Crossing her arms with lightning speed, Alina felt a surge of electricity as she thrust both palms out toward her sides with one huge sweeping motion. The sword flew out of Grandma Bea’s hands, piercing the living room wall twenty-two feet to her right.
Whoa. Did she just do that?
A warm, prickly feeling washed over her as she stood there in amazement, watching the sword wiggle up and down until it stopped. She looked back at Grandma Bea.
“Well,” her grandma said, matter-of-factly. “It appears you do have something. We need to take you to your Uncle Raynor’s house right away.”
“Raynor’s house?” her mom said. “We will do no such thing.”
“Sharon, he’s the best.”
“He’s also a jerk.”
“It’s not his fault. He’s been absorbing darkness for a long time now.”
“Which means he’s worse than when I knew him before. There has got to be someone else.”
The two women continued bickering as Alina eased into the background.
She didn’t care about some guy named Uncle Raynor. Right now she cared about what had happened. Chucking a sword through a wall without touching it? That was the coolest thing she’d ever done! Once the thrill settled into her brain, however, she began to feel uneasy.
All the talk from before about enemies and survival sounded so ominous. If she could fling a sword without touching it but still needed training to survive, what could her enemies do?
(Continue on to Chapter 3)
(Go back to Chapter 1)
(Enough, already. I want to buy this. Take me back to the page with the buy links, STAT!)