young-adult-contemporary-fantasy-series-connor-chronicles

Young Adult Contemporary Fantasy Book Series

Connor Chronicles by Dormaine G

Series Excerpt

The next day before first period started, I was fumbling through my locker, rummaging for nothing in particular, trying not to make eye contact with Angela as she drilled me for information like the fanatical person she can be.

When she gets like this, she talks a mile a minute; her voice goes up to just under a squeal. If she doesn’t know what is going on, all is wrong with her world, and she will not let up until she pries every bit of information out of you. I most definitely see news reporter in her future.

“What happened? Where did you go yesterday? You didn’t come back to class. I had to call your house last night, since you didn’t pick up your cell . . . ,” she said, staring me down.

I knew her well enough to know she was frustrated not knowing why I left, since tripping is common for me, and upset because I would not confide in her. “And your brother said you could not come to the phone, something about you being on a leash out back, so I hung up on him. You could have called. I was worried, you know.” She finished by slamming a book back into her locker next to mine.

That is so true, she worries so much. Ever since her adopted brother Vincent went missing twelve years ago, she has a habit of getting frantic when not warranted.

He was a year older than she was, and they were close. He was her big brother. His father died when he was a baby, and unfortunately, his mother was not in the picture. With no other family to go to, he ended up a ward of the state and went to an orphanage. Eventually, Angela’s parents took him in right before she was born.

I was three when it happened, but I do have some memories of him since we played together. It was my first exposure to sadness how could it not stick in your head.

Angela cried so much back then, and her family took it hard. She stayed with me a lot, and that seemed to have helped us both. My parents said the police and community were involved in the search. Even Mr. Bucks, a.k.a. the boss, my dad would call him, backed the search for him for weeks, but he was never found.

My parents were overprotective of me for years after that, eventually easing up when I started protesting. Ever since then, I try to be a little understanding when Angela gets like this because she means well.

Putting my left hand halfway up, surrendering, cutting her off, and allowing her to catch her breath, I explained, “Sorry, but I was put into a boredom coma from the parentals, lecturing me on the responsibility of young adulthood and leaving school without permission and how it was not a smart thing to do.”

She waited for more information, clutching her books for dear life, but what do I say? I ran into the bathroom from pure humiliation, disappeared, literally, then ran out to find another kid who could possibly do the same thing. I don’t think so.

I felt bad I couldn’t tell her, but I have no desire to go to the funny farm. I heard most of them don’t bathe, and that is nasty. I made up some barely believable story of running out due to dirty wet clothes.

Besides, I do not want to give her more to worry about. I don’t think she ate it, but she let it go when she realized I wasn’t going to elaborate. That or the first bell stopped her next question.

As I walked off, I could feel her eyes digging into me and hear the wheels turning in that brain of hers, and that was not good.

I sat next to Hope in math class in first period like usual. Hope was my other best friend my age. She is cute as a button, with the biggest darkest eyes, soft, shiny, bouncy reddish-brown hair, and about Angie’s height. She is what her family calls Creole and has exactly five freckles on her nose. Her family comes from New Orleans, so she grew up speaking fluent French, or a version of it. She is the nicest person you would ever want to meet. She is incredibly passive to the point where she makes it easy for people pick on her. That is where Angie and I come in.

Five years ago, we stepped in when some girls were harassing her because her family doesn’t have a lot of money. They were teasing her about her clothes and the fact that she lived on the outskirts of town. Now we’re known as the tres amigas, well, to us anyway. That and with the help of Angela’s mom, who sews her clothes to help financially, she had more confidence. She discovered her own style, hippie bohemian, but she can rock some cool jeans too. Her boyfriend situation is another story.

I was jolted back to present day when I heard her say something about me glowing, so it must be a boy. “Whatever,” I said, and added most of the boys from this school are way too immature for me. My goal is to go to school in Paris and do as the French do. She agreed, and we laughed at each other.

I didn’t mention that after Paris, I would somehow become a part of a secret space organization and fly my own spaceship that they will name after me one day. I felt the need to leave that part out and to keep that to myself.

Our teacher purposely put a halt to our good mood by handing out a pop quiz. Great.

After fourth period ended, Hope spotted some strange boy behind us as we headed to the grand cafe, a.k.a. the lunchroom. “I think he has been following us since last class,” she said, not being slick about it at all by literally pointing him out.

Grabbing her hand and pushing it down, I turned around and saw a kid I have never seen before. His hair was greasy, and he wore all black with holes in his pants, the kind of holes that were not on purpose but from wear and tear. He was staring right at me, and from the expression on his face, he didn’t seem thrilled to see me, but I didn’t know him. I don’t know why, but I had a funny feeling about him.

Hope covered her mouth with her book, laughing at me. “Is that your new boyfriend, Connor?”

“What new boyfriend, and why didn’t I hear about this sooner?” Angela asked, coming up from behind. Hope filled her in, all while giggling at my expense. Great, something else Angela will grill me on.

“Um, he is gross, and I don’t have a boyfriend.” We made it to the lunchroom finally, and I was grateful for the noise distraction since they found it necessary to hound me about him all the way here.

Lunch was the same as always; the jocks sat with the evil cheerleaders. My sis is dead center, sitting next to her boyfriend Robert. I would never admit to her how hot he is.

After school, he works at his dad’s law firm to prep him for the bar when he graduates law school. I hate to break it to his dad, but Robert is not “the brightest bulb in the pack.”

He has always needed a tutor, and that’s how Ebony and Robert met. She started tutoring him in seventh grade on three classes, hence her popularity and not since birth, as she would have you believe. She was actually human before cheer and didn’t care so much about how she looked or if she fit in with the “in crowd.”

He does seem to care for my sister, I have to admit, and her for him. They are always together and seem to have fun. Hey, it is a cohesive relationship. Whatever works, right?

Robert’s family worships the ground Ebony walks on because she has taken him far, and they know it. All I am saying is his dad needs to lower his educational expectations.

Walking by the jock table, she gave me the stink eye when I attempted to wave, so I politely made her “read between the lines.” I swear my mom drank blood when she was pregnant with her. I am just waiting on the devil to come claim his evil spawn when the time is right.

Passing the table, someone yelled, “Help, Superman,” and I swore Ebony punched him, but I pretended I didn’t see it and kept walking.

Then there are the nerds/geeks, which covers chess, the science club, math club, and LARP (live action role-play). Even though I love science fiction, I wouldn’t dress up and run around in a costume, just pajamas in the middle of the night, oh and Halloween, my most favorite holiday.

Some of them are actually cool, like Angela’s boyfriend, Bobby, and yes, that is his real name, not Robert, who doesn’t dress up, but there is the other half who knows how smart they are and turn their nose up at you.

Barnabus, the freckled redheaded kid who wants to take over the world, is the rudest individual that roams the earth. He feels the need to tell you just how inferior you are to him. Just about after every math and science class, he gets beat up or locker bound because he expresses his annoyance of us mere humans’ retarded intelligence, and yet he runs around in costumes playing live games. Some nerve.

The Victims of Eternal Richness dress in black, brand name only, and act like their lives are so hard because their parents are so disgustingly filthy rich, they must suffer for it. Give me a break.

The ringleader we call Cricket because she chirp-chips all the time about nothing and does the most complaining. They either sleep around or threaten suicide, which no one has attempted that I know of, and thank goodness for that. The problem, as I see it, is that their parents are out making so much money, they feel neglected at home, so they come to school craving attention. See, I pay attention in psychology. I say quit complaining and tell it to a therapist one day like the rest of us.

The Individuals sit outside; this includes the skateboarders, extremist, artists, and musicians. No one really pays them too much attention because they’d rather do their own thing. They sit around playing guitar with wool hats on, even in warm weather, while performing some death-defying stunt. I have to admit they are good. It is as if they have no fear.

There is this kid named Bradley but whom we call Cannon because he is so fast on the long board. It is as if he is shoots right out of one.

I peered out the window to watch and, for the first time, noticed Tony. He was doing a long board stunt right off the side railing. Wow, he was good. His nicely sculpted muscles were showing under his muscle shirt. I was staring so hard, I hadn’t realized he was staring back at me. I released my bag from my death grip, nodded at him with a half grin, and walked off to catch up with the others.

I glanced back to find him still staring at me while tossing his board in the air. I hurriedly turned away and cut the line for lunch. I got a couple of catcalls but didn’t care until someone said, “Let Superman through, she needs fuel for her next save.” Will I ever live that down?

I sat with my usual crew, the “Can’t wait to get out of this town” group. My group consisted of about eight of us who discussed plans for the future, like where we would live and what we would do. As we were making plans for the near future like this weekend, I thought about Tony’s invite this Friday night. I told them I have a family obligation that I couldn’t ditch. They accepted it and quickly changed the subject.