Table of Contents
Synopsis
What Reviewers Say About Jennifer Lavoie’s Work
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
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
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
About the Author
Soliloquy Titles From Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Humanity was nearly wiped out when a series of global disasters struck, but pockets of survivors have managed to thrive and are starting to rebuild society. Peyton lives with others in what used to be a factory. When her adopted father is murdered by Scavengers, she is determined to bring justice to those who took him away from her. She didn’t count on meeting Nixie.
Nixie is one of the few people born with the ability to dowse for water with her body. In a world where safe water is hard to come by, she’s a valuable tool to her people. When she’s taken by Peyton, they’ll do anything to get her back. As the tension between the groups reaches critical max, Peyton is forced to make a decision: give up the girl she’s learned to love, or risk the lives of those she’s responsible for.
What Reviewers Say About Jennifer Lavoie’s Work
“Andy Squared is a phenomenal debut…a fascinating coming of age novel that explores coming to terms with sexual orientation, sibling rivalry, and discovering what true friendship is all about, told in very effective prose.”—Steven dos Santos, author of The Culling
“In her second young-adult novel, Meeting Chance, Jennifer Lavoie again applies her hopeful outlook to the halls of high school, this time tackling—and debunking—the superficial judgments on which adolescent self-esteem often turns. Lavoie’s assumption that teenagers are strong, smart, and tenacious in the face of life’s challenges is refreshing…it serves up a wholesome role model for younger kids to consider as they try to figure out how they fit into the world.”—Foreword Review of Books
“Meeting Chance is such a sweet story, so full of love. Aaron matures before our eyes as he takes on more responsibility and makes adult decisions about whom he wants in his life. One of the greatest things about this book for me was that although it is a YA LGBT novel, the fact that the main character is gay is a non-issue, for the most part. It’s about a boy, who happens to be gay, who bonds with a dog. Ferociously recommended.”—The Novel Approach
“Tristant and Elijah by Jennifer Lavoie was a great read. It was sweet and most definitely a unique high school ‘gay’ story, because while it did deal with coming out, it didn’t go through the usual tropes…it was seriously awesome to read a book about gay high school students where that was essentially a nonissue.”—His Gay Atlas
“[Tristant and Elijah] is an interesting combination of a character-driven romantic story and a plot-driven historical mystery in which the reader learns as much about Tristant’s uncle as they do about the two main characters. A conversational writing style and character-driven story makes this novel an easy public and school library recommend for fans of romance literature, especially boys who may want a romantic story without a female main character.”—GLBT Reviews ALA’s Gay Lesbian Bisexual Transgender Round Table
The First Twenty
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The First Twenty
© 2015 By Jennifer Lavoie. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-417-9
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: May 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Lynda Sandoval and Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Gabrielle Pendergrast
By the Author
Andy Squared
Meeting Chance
Tristant and Elijah
The First Twenty
Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without the help and talents of everyone at Bold Strokes Books. My deepest gratitude to Len Barot for giving Peyton and Nixie a home, Sandy and Cindy for everything they do, Ruth for the help with finishing touches, and Gabrielle for The. Most. Beautiful. Cover. Ever! I hope the girls’ story does it justice.
To Lynda Sandoval, who is the best editor in the world, for challenging me and pushing me and making this book the best it can be. It wouldn’t be what it is without you! Thank you for your tireless help and support!
To Aleida Gonzalez, thank you for reading the first draft of Peyton’s story and giving me feedback and kicking my butt when I needed it.
And as always, to my family and friends who put up with me when I’m writing. I don’t know how you do it. Tiffany and Cassandra, thank you for helping me with the title of this book and for giving me Static.
Dedication
For my family, who have stood by me no matter what
CHAPTER ONE
Heat from the afternoon sun burned the back of Peyton’s neck as she stood at the foot of her father’s grave. Four men carefully lowered his wrapped body into the narrow pit dug into the scorched earth. Most of the security detail stood around her, their arms crossed respectfully behind their backs. Others patrolled the perimeter of the graveyard, scouting for Scavengers.
Scavengers had taken him down.
Peyton would find those responsible for her father’s death and she would make them pay. Clenching her fists to keep them from trembling, she pulled herself straighter.
Enrique’s shrouded body hit the ground and the crew pulled the ropes out. Peyton reached down, grabbed a clump of dirt, and scattered it over his body without thought. The others followed suit and murmured words she couldn’t hear. Remnants of the old days, perhaps. She said nothing as she watched.
When everyone had paid their respects, the four men once again took over and picked up their shovels to bury him properly. Peyton turned to address the security detail that stood behind her, deferring to her for instructions—just as they had once done with her father.
She
surveyed those in front of her before nodding tersely. “We need to get back to the Mill and make plans. Let Ryan, Willow, and Jasper stay. They’ll provide enough coverage.”
The men and women nodded their assent and turned toward home. Ryan muttered something quietly, but Peyton ignored it. Let him moan all he wanted. She would make sure things ran smoothly until someone else took over.
In the distance, the derelict smokestack rose above the distant hillside. A remnant of a time long past, it no longer retained its original function. Now it served as a lookout and communications tower. If she squinted against the harsh afternoon sun, she could just make out the narrow walkway circling the stack and the person left on watch.
Peyton lagged behind. She didn’t want to hear any more condolences or make the small talk they all thought she needed. What the hell did they know about what she needed when she wasn’t even sure herself? To her dismay, someone joined her. Turning to push whoever it was ahead and away from her, Peyton looked up into kind brown eyes. Graham. He had been her dad’s closest friend and sometime lover, and the one who had found his body when the foragers had returned to the Mill without him.
“You held up well today,” he said.
She nodded and stared at the backs of those in front of her, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat. Graham had lost just as much as her, and still he was kind.
“But it’s not over yet,” he continued, interrupting her thoughts. “We still need to choose a new head of security. This was the easy part. Now the others will squabble like children.”
“My vote’s for you,” Peyton said after a moment, surprised by the strength in her own voice. She carefully picked over the cracked ground, avoiding the larger fragments of asphalt that remained.
Graham chuckled. “I’m too old.”
“My father was your age.”
“Maybe so, but he was much younger when he was given the task. No. Not me. I won’t accept it.”
“If you won’t take it, who will?”
Graham’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I think, dear girl, you know the answer to that question.” He moved ahead of her swiftly, belying his claim to old age. Enrique had hardly been in his fifties, and Graham was just a year or two older.
It was hard to tell these days, though, just how old everyone was or wasn’t. So many had died over the years, and not just from the Mill settlement. Their bodies just couldn’t adjust to a life of hard labor after centuries of a sedentary lifestyle. Before, everything they’d needed had been a quick trip to the store or the click of a button away. Peyton’s own parents hadn’t survived longer than a few years. Just long enough to hold out hope it would get better, have her, and then die.
So, yes, the first years of the Collapse had aged so many, and those who grew up in the aftermath looked older than they would have Before. Everything was different; it was all Before and After now, and nothing else seemed to matter. At least that’s what those who lived Before had told her, and what she’d seen from pictures that had managed to escape destruction. She could hardly believe some of the images she’d seen were of people her age. They looked like children.
As Peyton walked, she looked at the land around the Mill, which had been turned into fertile farmland despite the extreme change in temperature and the former cityscape. Buildings still loomed around her, some well on their way to collapsing, but others, like the Mill, had been built to stand the test of time. Over the years, the settlers had turned the surrounding paved roads, abandoned lots, and empty yards into a large farm that met their needs.
Peyton watched as some of the farmers pulled up weeds or shifted the old tobacco netting hanging above the heat-sensitive plants. They nodded to her as she passed.
If Dad had been a farmer, what would my life be like now? Would he still be alive? Would I be a farmer, too? Or would I have done something else?
Paying attention solely to her thoughts, she tripped over a piece of pavement that hadn’t been removed from the road and kicked at it. The pain that spread through her toes and up her calf felt good. It brought her back to her senses and reminded her to keep focused. She took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and picked up the pace to make it back to the cooler interior of the building she called home.
*
“Calm down, people! We need to make this decision tonight. If we go too long without a new head of security, we’re going to have bigger problems with the Scavengers,” Julian said before taking a seat. Voices competed to be heard over each other and Peyton tried to discern who said what.
“We already have problems with them.”
“Just stick with the schedule and we’ll be fine. We can have a few days without. Give us time to think it through.”
“No, we need to take a vote. Now. I know who’s the best for this job.”
“Is that so, Ryan? And you probably think that’s you.”
“Damn right, it’s me!”
“Now wait just a minute!”
Peyton gave up and sat silently in the corner next to Graham, who continued to follow the proceedings with amusement. His eyes shifted back and forth between the men arguing, his lips quirking up at the corners when they pushed closer together and shouted directly in one another’s faces. He leaned over to Peyton and whispered, “They’re like strutting peacocks.”
Peyton hid a laugh behind a hand. It was true. The birds were all show, just like the men—boys—in front of her. Willow sat to the side, hunched over and staring off into the distance with her chin resting on the backs of her hands. Jasper sat slouched, with his head back against the wall. His eyes fluttered closed despite the shouting around him. When Willow noticed, she nudged him with her elbow. He jerked awake and stared around in bewilderment. Peyton had to hide another laugh.
It was the first time she’d laughed in two days, and damn if it didn’t feel good, even if the relief was temporary.
The voices continued to grow louder until a loud bang reverberated around the room. Silence settled over everyone uneasily as they turned to look at the source. Old Joe had picked up a cast-iron pot and dropped it on the floor. And now that he had everyone’s attention, he pushed himself to his feet with his cane and leaned heavily on it.
“That is quite enough.”
His voice, quiet but strong, seemed to settle everyone’s nerves and they sat in the seats around the perimeter of the room. Peyton watched with interest as the old man, the oldest in the Mill at eighty, moved to the center of the room. Willow made as if to stand and assist him, but he waved her off.
“Bickering is not what we need right now,” he said, addressing Ryan and another man. “We are not savages. It’s become clear to me that neither of you can handle the position if you’ll fight for it like that. You’ve only yourselves in mind.” Both men hung their heads. “Losing Enrique is hard. He was the best we’ve had for security since the Mill was settled. But we’ll pull through this. We always have. What we need is to be democratic about this and vote.”
Peyton stared at Old Joe. He’d used that term so many times, and she’d had to ask the two teachers in the Mill what it had meant the first time he used it. They’d handed her an old history book from before the Collapse, and she’d read about what the United States of America used to be. Sometimes this idea of democracy worked, and other times, she found, it made no sense. Not when there were too many competing minds and no one wanted to give in to the other side, even if giving in made everything better for others.
That’s what Old Joe had said started the Collapse. That and shifting weather patterns that caused worldwide crop failures, and diseases that spread too rapidly for scientists to keep up.
When he said her name, she blinked and looked around the room. Everyone regarded her with open curiosity. She licked her lips and Graham nudged her shoulder.
“Say something.”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” she admitted through clenched teeth. She glanced at Willow who beamed at her with an easy s
mile.
“Old Joe just cast his vote for you.”
Peyton whipped her head around, balking at the words. “What?”
“Stand up,” Graham hissed.
She did as she was told and stood. Old Joe’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “The only person who knows all of Enrique’s techniques and plans is Peyton. He trained her well, and she is the most sensible choice. She has proven time and again that she is capable, and I think she’ll follow in her father’s footsteps just fine. Besides,” he chuckled, “I think she’s the only one who can make sense of the maps he’s drawn out.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Ryan erupted from his seat and stalked to the middle of the room. “She’s too young! She hasn’t gone on nearly as many missions out of the city as some of us.”
“Are you suggesting that you’d be a better choice?” Jasper asked from his seat, finally alert. “Because you’re so much older and wiser?”
Ryan scowled.
“Are there any other candidates we should consider?” Old Joe asked, turning in a circle to take everyone else in.
Peyton turned with him, eyeing the others. She didn’t want the task to fall to her, but she didn’t want Ryan to take it, either. He thought only of himself, and not of the others. She’d experienced his cruelty when they were children, and it had not matured out of him as he aged. All of her dad’s hard work would be destroyed if Ryan became the head.
Did she want that to happen?
In the room, fourteen men and women sat still. The others were on the night watch already. There were two others in the room she would rather take the lead, but Graham had already told her he wouldn’t. When Old Joe looked at him, he shook his head and looked at the ground.
That left Julian. Peyton turned to him, but he shrugged before saying, “No. I’m happy remaining in security, but I won’t run it, not when it’ll take me away from the Mill. With Avery being pregnant, I’d rather not.”
“You’re our best chance, Julian,” Peyton argued.
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