by Shayn Bloom
NEWBORN
Book 1 of NEWBORN TRILOGY
Copyright 2014 Shayn Bloom. All rights reserved.
For more information about the author and series:
shaynbloom.blogspot.com
Edited and formatted by Kye Fehrenbach.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Preview of AWAY WITH ME
Chapter One
I’m going to college.
To move into my new home.
A dorm room.
I’m in the back seat of Dad’s Chevy Silverado. Mom and Dad are in the front seats and not speaking. In my finite wisdom, I attempted to have one parent move me in. But in the end I couldn’t decide which and both of them wanted to be the last to see me off to college. Off into the wondrous independent world of adulthood.
My parents are divorced. That fact is not helping the awkward feeling filling the car. They first separated two years ago, when I was sixteen and still in high school, and the divorce came through a year later. Until they separated I’d never heard Mom say the word ‘Eugene.’ It’d been ‘Gene’ for nineteen years. Such is the bitterness of divorce. Well, bittersweetness for Mom. Bitterness for me. And Dad.
My name is Nora Saynt-Rae. I’m going to Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington to study English. Why study a subject with no employment potential, you ask? Because I love writing. It’s the only thing I feel I’m effortlessly good at. Everything else in my life has been an acquired skill.
“How many students go to Evergreen?” Mom asks for the hundredth time.
I avert my eyes from the window. “Five thousand.”
Dad snorts from behind the wheel. “That all? Know how many UW had when I went? Forty thousand.”
“I think a smaller school is a better school,” Mom remarks, her retort just short of a snap. “Small class sizes mean more interaction with your professors, Nora Saynt. That kind of thing can really help your grades along. The profs will learn your name and see you as a real person rather than just a number.”
“Exactly,” Dad growls back. “Your professors know you, so if you’re not a favorite they’ll fuck you over when it’s time for recommendation letters. They’ll remember everything – the good and the bad. Best keep it generic and get good grades. That’s the way to go about it, Nora Rae.”
I roll my eyes to the Silverado’s ceiling. I know my parents too well to take either of their advice seriously. Neither is really trying to give advice. They’re in rivalry mode, rivalry to be the best – and right – parent. The heat of their competition is almost odorous. Sighing, I gaze out my window.
“Are we nearly there?” I ask.
“Crossing into Olympia now,” Mom replies quickly. She’s the first to answer, and she’s unable to keep the smile from her lips after this tiny victory. “Oh, I’m going to miss you so much my little saint!”
Staring out my window, I see the lush green of passing meadows and waterways. Soon I will be on my own – away from my parents and all of their problems. I will be free like a bird flying south in winter or a kite catching the wind in summer. Free like a newborn whose eyes reflect the gift of all seasons.
“I know,” I reply, so softly I’m not sure she can hear. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
Twenty minutes later we’re on campus. The buzz of excitement in the air is palpable as students and parents surround us everywhere, moving in. Cars and trucks are parked haphazardly here and there, wherever they can get closest to the scattered array of dorm buildings.
Parking in an uncomfortably crowded lot, Dad gets out and opens my door for me. I hop down and glance in relief at the truck’s bed, where everything has managed to stay in one piece during our drive. I’d been worried – anxious, even. I needn’t have bothered. Dad has it under control. Maybe I’m anxious about other things.
“I’ll go get your room key and sign you in,” Dad says gruffly. “You two can… wait here.” His tone reveals in no uncertain terms his knowledge of what he’s missing. Mom and I being totally pathetic together. Dad departs, and no sooner do I sigh and turn to look at Mom than I see the tears glistening in her eyes.
“My girl’s off to college,” she says. “All grown –”
But the tears are interrupting her now, large fat drops that drench her face even as she smiles through them. Gasping back a sob, she throws her arms around me. Winded, I hug her back hard, my own agony at our parting just short of tears. I hope she knows I’ll miss her. Like really knows.
“I’m going to miss you too, Mom,” I murmur into her perfume.
She nods on my shoulder. “I know you will.”
Dad returns suddenly. “Building C, Nora.”
“Yes,” I reply, breaking from Mom. “That’s me.”
Mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. I see Dad’s as he finishes rolling them. “It’ll be easier if we drive closer to the dorm. So hop in ladies – I know where it is. You’re not quite free of us yet, Nora Rae.”
* * *
My room is on the third floor of dorm building C. I’m not the first to move in. My roommate, whoever she is, has already deposited a veritable litany of crates and boxes and is currently nowhere to be found. I keep hoping she’ll be nice. Friendly, at least. I could use a friend here.
Mom is making my bed. Dad is sitting at my desk and making sure my computer is hooked up to the internet after having finished with the cable TV. I managed to plug in my mini fridge on my own. My bed made, I sit down on it beside my mother. I can tell I’m in for a few rough nights – this bed is nowhere near as comfortable as my bed at home.
A sharp pain throws itself on my gut. Stabbed, I grab my stomach and wince. “Ouch!”
“What?” Mom asks, gazing worriedly into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“N – nothing!” I gasp hurriedly, letting go of myself. “I just felt like I was going to be sick. I don’t know what it is.”
“Nerves,” Dad answers knowingly. “Not uncommon when moving to a new place. You may have had a small anxiety attack.”
I gape at him. “Really?”
Dad’s a contractor specializing in kitchens and bathrooms, so his knowledge of these matters is beyond doubt. Actually, I think he’s right. Over the last couple weeks I’ve been experiencing similar pains. The timing would make it seem like it’s related to my moving to college.
I’ve been looking forward to college for years, ever since I was a junior in high school and I realized there’s a land beyond those double doors that led to the entirety of my mid teens. The last eight months has been a time of immense excitement for me. Odd that I’m getting panic attacks.
“We’d better hit the road, Cindy,” Dad says, turning in my desk chair. “I’ve got a thing tonight – need to be home by six o’clock. Internet’s all fixed up and all. Anything else you need, Nora?”
I shake my
head from the bed. “No thanks, Dad. You and Mom have done plenty for me already – now and over the last eighteen years. You can let me be now, I’ll be alright. Just take care of yourselves.”
I look around impressively. Embarrassing though it is to admit, I’m looking for proud praise after this announcement. None comes. Mom and Dad are staring at each other, and Mom’s eyes flash dangerously. Did they even hear me? “A thing, Eugene?” Mom says aloud, “What kind of thing?”
Dad blinks, his face becoming guarded. “It’s nothing, Cindy.”
“Good,” Mom replies sharply. “Because I’m not going to see my daughter until Thanksgiving! If I want to stay a little longer we’ll be staying a little longer! Whatever your ‘thing’ is, Eugene, it can wait!”
Oh shit.
This always happens when they’re together. First, they pamper me and whoever does it the most wins. Mom always wins this round. Second, they give me advice of some sort. Dad usually wins this round. Third, they interact with me and whoever suggests our meeting end first loses. This third round is the toss up round, so whoever wins this round wins the day.
Despite Dad giving the game away, Mom is pissed. Legitimately, it seems. “Cindy,” Dad says tiredly. “It’s been a long day. We got up early and it’s a long drive back to Baring. Let’s call it a day.”
Fire is coursing through Mom’s nostrils. “You would! You would call it a day! Today is one of the biggest days in our daughter’s life and you would have it end faster! Or else run off to do whatever it is you want to do. I’m sure it’s nothing important! Whereas this – this is important, Eugene!”
Okay – reality check. First of all, yes – Mom’s probably right and whatever Dad’s going off to do isn’t all that important compared to what today means for me. Second of all, the truth is that in my mind they can’t leave fast enough. The internet’s working, the TV’s plugged in, and the fridge still works. So they can leave. Secretly, I’m rooting for Dad to win. I want them to leave ASAP.
“The sooner we leave the sooner Nora can start making friends,” Dad says, gesturing to the crates in the room not belonging to me. “Her roommate is going to be back any minute. Wouldn’t it be better if we weren’t here for that? They could get off to a good start without embarrassing parent introductions.”
I raise my eyebrows. Dad gets it. He’s being uncharacteristically sensitive to the intricacies of making new relationships. Yes – Dad’s the one who’s really understanding how important today is for me. What it means. He understands the best thing they can do for me right now is fuck off.
Mom stands up. “Why are you making me leave my daughter?”
“What?” Dad looks flustered. “I’m not!”
“Yes you are!” Mom announces furiously, and I’m stunned to see tears welling in her eyes again. “I know what you’re doing, Eugene! You’re trying to sabotage my relationship with Nora on the last day I’ll see her in three months!”
Holy bejesus fuck.
“Cindy!” Dad says, standing too, his voice hollow with shock. “No! That’s not true. Not true at all. How could you thin –?”
“Just tell me,” Mom interrupts, “What is it you have to be home for? What, Eugene?”
Dad flaps his arms helplessly and averts his eyes. “Fine, fine!” he says. “I have a date tonight. A date, Cindy! Happy now?”
“You?” Mom can’t finish the sentence. Collapsing to the bed, she puts her hands over her face to hide her tears.
I’m staring at them in shock. What the fuck is happening? I thought today was going to be about me. Why is this coming up all of a sudden? Why now? Dad seems to be wondering the same thing.
“Cindy,” he murmurs, sitting on the bed beside her. “What’s all this about? It’s been two years already…” I’m gaping, unabashed. Dad notices. “Nora, why don’t you go for a walk around campus?” He isn’t suggesting this. It’s a demand, and I’m not dumb enough to ignore it. “Have your key?”
Pulling my new lanyard out of my pocket, I dangle the key in front of him. I’m not sure I can summon words right now. “Keep it safe,” Dad says, squeezing Mom’s shoulder as he does. “We’ll be gone when you get back. Have a fun evening tonight and a good first day tomorrow. I’ll call tomorrow night.”
I’m dismissed. I make as though to try and hug him, but he shakes his head. He’s practically holding Mom now as she sobs into his shoulder. I walk to the door. “Bye Mom,” I say unwisely, and open the door.
Just before I close the door behind me I hear Dad’s voice, softer, quieter: “When I turned forty it took a few days before I had my head back on straight…” The door closes and I’m alone in the hallway.
Holy fucking shitballs.
I almost want to laugh. Or cry. I can’t decide. So many emotions are coursing through me right now. I can understand how Mom is feeling. Between my going off to college and Dad apparently dating again for the first time since the divorce, I can see why she’s messed up. She did turn forty on Saturday.
Breathing deeply to calm my nervous heart, I walk forward. The hallway has other apartments branching off of it. A communal bathroom is ahead. I dart inside for a second to check myself.
I stare into the mirror. A thin, pale, brown-haired girl stares back at me. She looks ill. I am ill. Or I think I am. The anxiety sickness, perhaps. My stomach is still aching painfully. It’s not hunger – it’s like hunger, but not. It’s like I’m hungry but I know I’ll throw up whatever I eat. Sighing, I gaze into my eyes.
My eyes are uniquely bright. For a while it freaked people out at home. I thought it was funny, but in the end I caved and bought a pair of colored contacts. Somehow they dim the brightness so I look normal.
Other eccentricities? I like perfume. Like Mom I have a tendency to put on too much. I practically douse myself, but I choose scents that make it not overwhelming. Combing my long hair with my fingers, I take a last look in the mirror before leaving dorm building C.
The sunlight has dimmed outside, yielding to a cloudy sky. This is of no surprise to most people in this part of Washington State because it rains so much here. Olympia is near the base of the Olympic Peninsula, which is the rainiest part of the United States. In all months except August and September, it’s bound to rain at least every other day and often more.
It hasn’t started raining yet. I stroll away from my dorm, trying to distract myself with the lush scenery. It’s not working – I’m still wondering what Dad might be saying to Mom back in my room. Geez, I hope they leave before my roommate gets back. What an awkward introduction to my life.
As I approach the main section of campus, signs begin popping out at me. The college recreations building passes me on the right while the communications building passes on the left. A little after that, the activities building passes me on the left while the seminar buildings pass on the right. Finally, I arrive at Red Square, the center of campus. On three sides surrounding me are the Daniel J. Evans library, lecture halls, lab buildings, and more seminar buildings.
At the base of Red Square is a long driveway that curls around like a horseshoe. It’s from here that most of the students are flooding the campus, pushing trolleys and carts and bearing trunks between them. Vehicles line the horseshoe like insects. Without thinking, I make my way to the horseshoe.
In the center of the horseshoe is a pleasant little forest. But it doesn’t catch my interest for long. For now I’m surrounded by people, mostly my age and of every breed imaginable: Jocks, goths, hipsters, nerds, and bookworms like me. I should get out of the high school mindframe, now I’m a college student.
But I can’t just yet, because there’s somebody I can’t quite place. He’s tall, blond, and getting out of a cab in front of me. My first instinct is goth, because he’s wearing what looks like a cape, but he can’t be a goth. No goth would smile so widely while retrieving a snowy white owl in a cage from the backseat of the cab. He’s gorgeous, this boy. I fear I’m staring.
I see I’m wrong. It’s no
t a cape he’s wearing but a robe – a smart, enveloping black robe with a short, thin stick in one of his front pockets. With the help of the cabdriver, the boy lifts a trunk from the back of the cab. Slamming the trunk closed, the cab driver leans on it, looking impatient. The blond boy looks flustered now.
I make my way to the cab, through the crowd of people and other vehicles until I’m beside the odd looking boy and the cab driver. The boy turns to me. “Excuse me,” he says, “Could you lend me a hand?”
“Sure,” I reply, gazing into dazzlingly turquoise eyes. “With what?”
“This,” answers the robed boy, and plunging his hand into his pocket he brings forth a handful of paper and coins. “Can you count out $80.19?”
“Um, I guess,” I say, amazed by this. Is he foreign? He doesn’t sound foreign. His accent is American. I look into his hand. Geez, a couple of these coins I’ve never seen before. They’re large, like half-dollars, and bizarrely designed. Not wanting to keep him waiting, I take a few twenties from the wad of paper money and the dime, nickel, and pennies to match. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” says the boy profusely, beaming at me as he hands the money over.
Taking his pay, the driver allows his eyes to trace the strange dress and appearance of his customer one last time before jumping back in his cab and taking off. The boy and I are left in the middle of the road with a trunk and an occupied bird cage. Err, excuse me – owl cage.
“That looks heavy,” I say, gesturing to the trunk. “Need help?”
Stowing the remainder of his paper and coinage in his robes pocket, the boy grins at me. “Gabriel White,” he says, extending a hand. “And no thank you. This thing’s got wheels on one end which makes it quite manageable.”
I shake his hand. “Nora Saynt-Rae,” I tell him.
He gazes at me thoughtfully. “Hyphen?”
“My parents insisted on it,” I say. “Well, Mom did mostly. It’s like she knew the marriage wouldn’t last. That was her way of keeping a piece of me.”
