My feet pounded against the pavement as the mid-September rain cut through the late summer humidity. My dark hair was soaked, but I didn’t care. I kept running, pushing myself to keep up with the droplets falling from the sky. My legs hurt, but still I ran. The pain didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop.
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His father’s demeaning taunts proclaiming Jordan would never accomplish anything rang in his ears as he approached Hole 18. It’d taken everything to get this far, but he remained in last place. He shook his head and feigned a confidence he didn’t feel.
“Almost there, Mouse,” Jordan slapped his caddy on the back and flashed a carefree smile, “
“We must evacuate!” Ojiichan warned. “Evacuate or die!”
For just a moment, there was no reaction. I trembled, not knowing what to expect. I silently implored them to listen to my grandfather.
Instead, they laughed. Not as if he had told a joke, but as if he was the joke. Worse still…
August is prime princess-kidnapping season. Ask even the tiniest dragonet, and they could tell you a thousand stories of Thunderclaw the Terrible, Blazebite the Brutal, or even Grumblewing the Grim and their renowned kidnappings. What did all these dragons have in common?
They planned their kidnappings in August: when princesses are about to…
“All right, Ms. Fessenbender, I found a forgotten login this morning and pulled your password from the keystrokes: WH!$k3r5.” I presented my session summary to petite, gray-haired Florence Fessenbender. “Oh, and you forgot that you fed Whiskers today. Albacore Supreme for a lovely Persian.”
Florence smiled. “Thank you, Vesta.” Rummaging through her purse…
Ever since I read through fifty-six Nancy Drew books in one summer at age eleven, I’ve wanted to be a detective. Five years later I got my first case. What I hadn’t imagined was that my first case would be the mystery of my own disappearance.
After my older brother Levi learned…
If this last bird doesn’t reach my father, I don’t have any hope left.
I choke on a sob, cradling the raven. “Take my message to him. Please.”
Ever since that slip down the mountainside left me with a badly sprained leg, I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would…
“Shush, Abigail! I’m just getting to the good part!”
I sigh and lean back in my ancient rocker. To my right, blasts of heat from the open fireplace roll over me like the flames of Hades. Toasty, Jack calls it.
I feel like I’ve been here before.
Across the room, my brother Jack leans forward in his chair, propping his elbows against the massive oak slab we call a dining table.
Every year, I tell myself I’m never baking for the fair again. It always ends in disaster. When I tried making a gingerbread house, the walls wouldn’t hold together and the roof caved in. I struggled on, until Mama paid me to give up on it. Another time, I made pies.
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I slipped my left foot into one high heel, hopping on the other while I swung out an arm to grab my purse, steadied myself, and wrenched open the door. Thirteen minutes to get to the subway, seven minutes to my stop, six minutes to get coffee, and four minutes to run to work. Perfect.
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“Nina,” whispered Greg. “We shouldn’t be out here at night.”
“Go home, Greg. I never asked you to come.” She walked on, the water continuously lapping around her ankles.
“If Mum finds out, we’ll be in huge trouble.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she won’t find out, isn’t it?” She spun around and glared at her little brother.
I lifted the sword—and set it back down. Pursing my lips, I glared at the weapon, then picked it up again.
The clanking of blades drifting in from the courtyard beckoned to me. Taunted me. I clutched the hilt between my palms.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I visualized the exercises my father had drilled into me.
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