Kimberly Kolb's Blog

On April 12th I started sharing the initial chapters of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue, my award winning debut novel. Lindsey is a Young Adult (YA) Romantic Thriller. To read Chapter 1 & 2 please go to: http://www.kimberlykolb.com/lindsey-love-intrigue-chapter-1/

To find out more about the book visit: http://www.kimberlykolb.com/

If you enjoy these initial chapters please share them on FB with your friends: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKimberlyKolb

And download the full version of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue today on Amazon: http://amzn.to/19IoVPM or at Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ngP0Zl

Enjoy!

Lindsey

Love and Intrigue

Kimberly Kolb

After practice I’m supposed to text Isabella and meet her near her car. It’s nice of her to wait since her volleyball practice isn’t as long as my gymnastics practice, but she agreed to wait for me for these first few weeks of school until I get my driver’s license. Mostly I think Isabella is nice to me because we are neighbors. I’m not sure if we would be friends if we weren’t neighbors.

As phones aren’t allowed to be used inside school, I wait until I step outside to check my phone. I notice I have a text message from Isabella. Only one text message—I bet everyone else gets like ten a day. I hope she hasn’t been waiting too long for me.

5:12 p.m. Hey. Change in plans. Walk 2 student lot. Your ride will be waiting.

Okay, what does this mean? Didn’t she wait for me? Who is taking me home? Who could it be? Oh, man. Walking cautiously, I head over to the student lot, which still has a number of cars from all the athletes at practice for various sports. As I enter the lot, I don’t see Isabella or anyone else who I think might be driving me home. I turn to look around and see a car pull up to me. I step back and notice Kevin is driving. He has this sly grin on his face as he stops next to me.

“Need a ride?” he says.

I bite my lip and reply, “Um, I’m … ah … I’m not sure.”

“I am; get in,” and then the grin turns into a big smile. “I told Isabella I would drive you home so she could take Rick home.”

“Oh, Okay.” So whose idea was this? Isabella’s? No, I don’t think she would do that. But then again, girls do anything to get more time with their boyfriends.

I’m still pondering this as I get into his car.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Sure.” In an attempt to be helpful, I say, “I live right …”

“You’re next to Isabella, right?”

“Yeah.”

I thought I would try to figure out what’s going on, so I say, “I’m sorry Isabella put you up to this.” I say this in a timid voice, hoping to unearth the truth. As we turn out of the student lot, we pass Jon, who did a bit of a double take to see me with Kevin—captain of the soccer team, vice president of his class, and of course, dating Andrea. Great.

“Oh, no worries, she didn’t.” Okay, so what does that mean? Why aren’t you driving Andrea home? Are you flirting with me?

We both sit listening to the music for a few minutes as we drive through town and around the curve of the lake toward my house. Oh, what the heck. “So, um … how’s Andrea?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says as he looks at me. “We broke up about a month ago.”

A month ago! Wait a minute. This changes everything. As this news starts to settle in, I realize I’m still looking at him, and he just caught me. I quickly turn away embarrassed. So are you driving me home because Rick wants time with Isabella?

“How was your first day?” he asks causally.

“Oh, fine—how about you?” Fine—until now … when I am a bit freaked out that Kevin Walker is driving me home.

“Good, I guess. Did you see Mrs. Brady’s hair?”

“Yeah, I did,” I say, smiling.

“What a color—I mean, seriously, did she do that on purpose? It’s purple, right?”

Laughing a bit with him at Mrs. Brady’s expense, I look over and see Joel and his brother Mike turning into their driveway. Wonder what they think seeing me with Kevin Walker. I’m still trying to figure all this out as he turns into our long driveway. The leaves on the trees along the drive are starting to turn colors. New school year, new season, new driver—wonder what else will change this year. I reach down to grab my backpack as we near my house.

“See you tomorrow, Lindsey,” he says, turning toward me.

“Thanks again for the ride,” I reply as I open the door and get out.

Walking in front of his car, I am totally self-conscious of him watching me walk, so I turn and give him a little smile. Smiling, he waves with one hand and then drapes it on the top of the passenger seat to back out of our driveway.

��

Mom and I have a nice dinner together. We have fun making pizzas and talking about our days. Mostly we talk about my day as it was the first day of my junior year.

“Is Joel in your science class again this year?”

“No, but Jon and I are lab partners.”

“How nice.”

“Chris Buckley is in my English class.”

“Oh, very nice.” Yes. It is very nice.

“Thankfully, Melissa is in my lunch period so we sat together. She was telling me about a couple of the books she read over the summer, which reminds me—Mom, when you’re in town tomorrow, can you pick up another mystery for me?”

“Sure. Do you want another one from one of your favorite authors?”

“Yeah, and grab me one of their recommendations so I can try a new author.”

“You got it. Do you have much homework?”

“Not much, but I want to get ahead.”

“Okay, well, go on up. I’ll clean up.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

��

As I lie in bed thinking about the first day of school, I’m so pleased that Chris and Jon both are in one of my classes this year. I wonder if Chris just hangs out with me because he knows I have a huge crush on him, and in some small way, my crush thrills him the same way Jon’s crush thrills me. Probably. So sad.

I wonder if Kevin will sit with me again tomorrow in study hall. If nothing else, that prospect is giving me a nice wave of excitement for the year ahead. On some semisubconscious level, I figure that being seen with Kevin, a cool senior, puts me into a whole new category at school. Even though he broke up with Andrea, I don’t know if he’s already seeing someone else. Dating a senior seems like too much to hope for. But that would be cool. Sure, I continue the dream that Chris will notice me, but if I can’t have perfection, it would be nice to at least not be home every Saturday night.

Here I am a junior and have never been asked to one of the all-too-heralded high school dances. Rather depressing at times. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me; it’s just a fact of life. Well, at least it’s a fact of my life. Only totally popular kids or kids who are in relationships go as lower classmen. But now I’m a junior. What if I’m the only girl I know who isn’t asked to the dance? Clearly, the Fab Five will be asked and will continue their perfect attendance at school dances. How do they do it? I get that they are pretty, but how is it that all the cool guys and cool girls go to every dance even if they’re not “going” with anyone? Guys don’t call me, but since they never have, I guess I really don’t know what I’m missing. Most of the time I’m so busy at school, the gymnastics club, or studying, I don’t think about it. But there are moments when it bothers me deeply.

As a result, I have grown to try to mentally ignore certain traditions in high school as much as possible. Traditions like the all-too-public popularity contest conducted twice each year called “Flower Day.” Every fall and spring semester, there are a few days when kids sit outside the cafeteria taking orders for carnations to be sent from one student to another. Then, on another day later that week or the next week, kids deliver flowers throughout the day to the popular students. Getting flowers is a clear and very visible sign of one’s popularity. I’m sure it feels great. I wouldn’t know. I’m a card-carrying member of the “Never Been Sent a Carnation Club.”

I seem to be a bit jealous, lately, of all the attention some of the girls get from guys. From where I stand, these girls have everything. They always know the perfect thing to say to sound cute and coy, they have a great sense of style, and both the girls and guys constantly call and text them. It’s so unfair. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. I might as well use the strength of it to fuel a good workout tomorrow.

I would be so happy for Melissa and Elena, my two girlfriends at school, if they get asked to the dance. If no one asks me, the truth is, I’ll feel sorry for myself. But if someone does ask me—I’ll freak out! What exactly do you do at a dance? What would I wear?

Not problems I will likely have to solve anytime soon.

��

The rest of the first week of school went about as expected. Now it’s the second week of school and Kevin is sitting with his soccer buddies today in study hall, so I try to get some work done. With only about fifteen minutes left in the period, Kevin comes over to sit with me. Interesting. Sadly, we can’t talk at all as the librarian is making constant rounds to keep everyone quiet. When the bell rings, he gets up with me and I half expect him to go back to meet up with the guys, but he starts to chat with me about the day. As we pass kids in the hall, I’m sure they’re trying to figure out why Kevin Walker is walking with me. Little do they know, I have no idea either. But I have hope. Last week I was feeling a bit jealous. I’ll take hope over jealousy any day.

“Can I give you a ride home?” Kevin asks.

“Sure,” but a whisper is all I can seem to muster. Why am I so nervous with guys? They all seem so confident. It seems like they know exactly what to do. How is that possible? Are they only like that with girls they really like?

“Good, I’ll see you in the student lot at about five thirty–ish.” And as he walks into the locker room, he calls over his shoulder, “And don’t worry. Isabella already knows.” Great. Confirmation of how pathetically predictable I am. I don’t even remember practice. It’s a blur of strength training, girls on my periphery whispering and giggling, and thoughts of my ride home.

After practice, I walk over to the student parking lot and see Kevin leaning against the passenger side of his car. He is the picture of composure: shades and headphones on with music playing. Of course, he has showered and changed at school. So glad my hair is in a ponytail and I’m in sweats. I’m suddenly conscious that I probably still even have some chalk on my hands. Great.

I desperately try to minimize my pathetic smile so I don’t look like a complete idiot walking over. For someone who doesn’t smile a lot, I’m suddenly having a hard time controlling mine.

As he pulls one earbud out, he calls over to me, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You should hear this song,” he says as he hands me an earbud.

Smooth. He knows I need to step close enough to him to get the earbud in my ear without pulling the other one out of his ear. So I step toward him and lean on the car next to him, popping the earbud into my ear.

As I listen to the pull of the violins and harp with a rock beat behind the strings, I must admit, “Very cool.” I have always loved the sound of a harp.

“Yeah, it’s a group out of France.”

“France? How did you hear of them?” How do guys find the time to find music groups in France? The longer I listen, the more I like it.

“Oh, I don’t know, just found it on the web.”

When the song finishes, he stands up from the car so I pull the earbud out. He opens the passenger door.

As I sit nervously in his car, I wonder if he’s just having fun toying with me or if he actually likes me. Part of me doesn’t care, and part of me is wondering if I’m setting myself up to be disappointed.

“What are you up to this weekend?” he asks without looking at me.

Ten thoughts leap into my mind at once. Am I a loser if I don’t have any plans? If I have plans, does that mean he won’t ask me out? Do I want to go out with him? I start out on what I assume to be safe ground: a family commitment.

“Well, my dad gets back in town Friday so we’re all going out to dinner.” Will he notice that I’ve not said anything about Saturday night?

“Cool. My mom said that your dad was mentioned in the paper in an article about one of his cases.”

“Yeah, he always has some crazy case going on.”

“Are you going to the football game Saturday?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going with some of the girls.” Oh, man. I hope Melissa and Elena still want to go together.

“Maybe I’ll see you there. It should be a great game.” Maybe? What does that mean? “Are you guys going to Joel and Mike’s after the game?” he continues.

“Um, I think so. I guess so. Joel mentioned it.” What did I say?

“You guys should go; I hear they’re going to set up a bonfire on the beach.”

When we pull into my driveway, I’m as confused as I was a week ago. Is Kevin just trying to help his brother get more time with Isabella? Does Kevin like me? Do I like Kevin? Do you want to see me this weekend? Trying not to sound too appreciative, I say, “Thanks for the ride,” and step out of the car. He gets out to walk me to the front door.

“Looks quiet. Anyone home?”

“Oh, probably not. My Mom’ll be home in a while.” Oh … maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Am I supposed to invite him inside? What would a senior do in this situation?

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m alone a lot.” Truer words were never spoken.

“Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” I say as I turn to unlock the door while my mind is preoccupied with questions. Talk to me later? Later when? Are you calling me later tonight? Or later like maybe I’ll run into you one day sometime in the future? I’d rather get a call from Chris. Will Chris ever call me?

��

The next day I enter the library for study hall and sit at the same table I sat at yesterday and choose the same seat, hoping it will bring me good luck again. Any advantage is worth a shot. As other kids walk in, I try to study chemistry while I steal glances at everyone coming in. I hear the soccer guys call Kevin over to their table. Terrific. No doubt who will lose this match.

Sure enough, Kevin heads for his soccer buddies and sits down with the team. Oh, well, back to chemistry. Back to reality. Once again, I find concentration is an elusive goal. I reread the same paragraph so many times, I finally turn the page out of pure embarrassment that someone may have noticed that I apparently can’t read. Focus.

Finally I manage to force myself to concentrate long enough to at least grasp that I’m supposed to be learning about atomic theory. My peripheral vision picks up someone walking across the library toward me, so I force my eyes to stay on the page. Do not look up! Do not check to see if it is him. Oh, please, let it be him. As Kevin sits down in the chair opposite me, I sense that he’s smiling.

Copyright © 2013 Kimberly Kolb

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8790-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8791-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8792-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907555

Starting on April 12th I started sharing the initial chapters of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue, my award winning debut novel. Lindsey is a Young Adult (YA) Romantic Thriller. To read Chapter 1 please go to: http://www.kimberlykolb.com/lindsey-love-intrigue-chapter-1/

To find out more about the book visit: http://www.kimberlykolb.com/

If you enjoy these initial chapters please share them on FB with your friends: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKimberlyKolb

And download the full version of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue today on Amazon: http://amzn.to/19IoVPM or at Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ngP0Zl

Enjoy!

Lindsey

Love and Intrigue

Kimberly Kolb

Although I’ve been competing in club gymnastics since I was six years old, for the longest time I didn’t think I would ever enter this locker room as a member of the high school gymnastics team. When we moved, one reason we picked Emit, Michigan, was because there’s a good gymnastics club in town with a great coach. I’ve been a level ten gymnast for the past three years, which is the highest level of competition before you enter the elite ranks. I’m not good enough to be a contender at the elite level, so years ago, we decided that I wouldn’t move to an elite training schedule, but instead would remain a competitor in “club.” Sometimes I wonder if I could have made a run for it, but the reality is that you have to give up so much and I would not really have been a contender at the international level anyway. Elite girls typically work out thirty-five to forty or more hours per week. As it is, I’m in the gym about eighteen or twenty hours a week. Deciding to stay at the club level was the only choice I’d had to make in gymnastics until I was getting ready to enter high school.

When you get to high school, gymnasts face a tough choice. For most girls, you either leave the club you’ve trained and competed for since you were little and join the high school team, or you stay at club and give up the opportunity to be part of a high school sport. Virtually all the good clubs won’t let you do both. I’m sure this is always a hard choice, but I think it was especially hard for me because we moved here in eighth grade, so I had only one year at my club. I knew joining the high school team would have been a great way to meet a bunch of girls, maybe even gain a few friends, but then I got to know Coach Dave and Jennifer.

Coach Dave is a great coach. We first met at a summer gymnastics camp years before I moved to Emit. Now he works to make me both a better gymnast and a better person. Not only has he improved my technical skills, but he’s made me a much more confident gymnast. He invests so much of himself into the team. The first time Coach Dave met with my parents and me, he wanted to know which colleges I was interested in attending. I was in seventh grade. Needless to say, my parents were ready to sign up. The only drawback to his club was that it’s across town from our house and in an industrial park my folks would rather I not hang out in.

Jennifer is really the first person I met in Emit. When I came to visit the club, Coach Dave asked her to show me around. She’s a level ten gymnast as well, but since she is one of the oldest juniors and I am the youngest, we’re in different age groups the way they split up club meets, so we’re usually not in direct competition. Having become friends while working out together almost every day, I’m thankful we don’t compete against each other often. I have always hoped that if we did in a big meet, we would still support each other, but I’m sure the competition would put pressure on our friendship. We are completely different gymnasts. Jennifer is more muscular and powerful. Most people describe me as graceful, and I’m clearly more of a slight gymnast. When I was younger, Mom made me take eight years of ballet, which I think I whined about before every practice. But the truth is she gets credit for any level of grace I bring to the sport.

So I decided, much to my parents’ delight, to stay at club through high school. I’m not one to cry much, but I did have a few bad nights when I was trying to make that choice. But once I made my decision to stay at the club, I never looked back. What’s the point? Freshman and sophomore year I competed in club, and as it has been since the first day I stepped into a gym, I loved every minute of it.

Then at dinner one night about a month ago, Mom says that Coach Dave had offered to allow Jennifer and me to compete on the high school team for our junior year, on a trial basis. I was shocked and so excited! Mom had already talked to the high school coach and he agreed to Coach Dave’s proposed schedule, so we could give it a try. Our schedule would be Monday, Friday, Saturday, and some Sundays at the club, and Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday in the high school gym. Since high school doesn’t practice on Fridays or the weekend anyway, we would only be missing one high school practice a week. Coach Dave also said we could only work out with the high school team from the beginning of school through the high school state meet. Hearing that both coaches had come to an agreement and that I could be part of a high school team, I practically burst with excitement.

I was thrilled that I would get to be in a high school sport and meet more girls in my high school, and now the kids at school might actually find out what I do all the time (as I’m hardly ever free after school). Club gymnastics teams only compete in USGA events and high school teams compete exclusively in the high school meets, so there’s no inherent conflict in representing both teams, but most coaches just won’t let you work out anywhere but in their own gym. Coaches have that in common with lawyers—they like control.

This was huge. As soon as my parents told me, I ran to call Jennifer, who had apparently just found out as well. We were both so excited we were practically screaming at each other on the phone.

��

As I change in the locker room, I’m excited and a bit nervous as this is my first high school gymnastics practice. The few clubs I’ve been a part of all had a specific format for both daily warm-ups and workouts. Clearly at this point, I have no idea what the protocol here will be. I came by the gym once before with Mom to meet with Coach Parker, but no one was in the gym at that time so I haven’t even seen the other girls work out. Granted, I’ve been going to high school here for two years, but since I never thought I would be able to join the high school team, I never really paid much attention to their workouts. I did go to one of the high school meets my freshman year, but honestly, that was more to check out the talent level. Needless to say, I was shamelessly pleased that I knew I could beat anyone on the team in a competition.

Carrying my grips in a small bag, I enter the spacious gym. There is not much to hide behind when all you are wearing is a leotard. The gym overlooks the basketball court below, and is shared by both the boys’ and girls’ teams. I see most of the girls are already stretching out on the floor. The entrance I came in is just up the stairs from the girls’ locker room, and is close to the two sets of uneven parallel bars. I set my grip bag down on the floor near the first set. I assume some of the girls are freshmen as they seem to be wandering around the gym a bit.

Stepping over some stacked mats, I walk self-consciously over the floor exercise mat to sit and stretch near the other girls. The chill of my reception is not entirely unexpected, but still a bit disappointing. I try a slight smile when I make eye contact with a few of the girls. Most smile back, but that is the extent of our greeting. Elizabeth, a clear member of the Fab Five, whispers something to Peggy. I can only guess what it’s about, but I’m confident it’s not good. Oh, well. This may be your gym, but we’re on my turf.

Thankfully, Jennifer comes in next and sits down next to me.

“Hey, Lindsey. Hi, Peggy. Hey, Elizabeth.”

“Hi, Jennifer,” I reply but am drowned out by Elizabeth. “Hey, Jennifer. Welcome to high school gymnastics,” Elizabeth responds, and then, like it’s an afterthought, adds, “You, too, Lindsey.”

“Thanks,” I say cautiously as the words were kind, but the tone was a bit acid.

“Well, we do warm-ups as a group, and we all do the same stretches together—okay?” Elizabeth says.

“Sure,” Jennifer replies after looking at me; I had nodded.

Coach Parker walks in and calls all the girls to the floor for an initial meeting.

“Hello, girls. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Coach Parker. Welcome back to all our returning gymnasts, and welcome also to all the new faces.” So here we are. Day one. First practice. Coach Parker continues, “Freshmen, don’t be intimidated. There’s a lot of talent in the room, but everyone had a first day in the gym. We will all do warm-ups together, and then I will split you up for our workouts. At the end of practice, we will all come back and do strength training as a group. Okay? Well, then, why don’t we have one of our seniors lead the warm-ups? Let’s make it a great year!”

Warm-ups are uneventful except that I feel like Elizabeth and Peggy are scrutinizing everything I do.

When we’re done warming up, Coach Parker returns to the floor to talk to the team. “Okay, ladies, I’d like to start with varsity vault. Let’s have the JV team and the freshmen go with Coach Wilson to beam. Jennifer and Lindsey, come with me and show me where you want the board set.”

Jennifer and I have an agreement with Coach Dave not to throw anything too risky in the high school practices and competitions as he can’t be here to spot us and we shouldn’t really have to in order to place in any of these meets. Generally speaking, the better gymnasts stay and compete in their clubs. Jennifer should really be my only competition. Given this agreement, practice is pretty easy and runs relatively smoothly.

At five thirty, Coach Parker whistles, which is apparently the signal to stop working out and come back to the floor for strength training.

“Okay, as I said earlier, for all you new girls, we spend the last twenty to thirty minutes of each practice stretching and doing some strength training. We’ll have the varsity team take turns running this part of our workout. Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Elizabeth announces. “Let’s start with thirty V-ups.”

Rolling my eyes, I stretch my legs out so that I’m lying on my back ready to do the exercise, which requires you to lift your legs and upper body at the same time so you look like a “V” at the top of the exercise. It quickly becomes apparent that whoever is leading the strength training doesn’t need to actually do all the exercises, but rather judges the rest of the team on how well they are doing each movement.

Elizabeth tells a sophomore that she needs to start over because her legs were bent.

“Great job, Peggy!” Shock.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lindsey. Those legs look bent. I think you need to start over,” Elizabeth says in a sickeningly sweet tone.

I know my legs were straight, and I know she did this just because I was almost done. Oh well, a few more V-ups can’t hurt.

All in all, practice is good. I’m always very focused in the gym, and even if I wasn’t, there’s rarely time to chat with my teammates anyway. Plus, I can already tell that Coach Parker is excited by what Jennifer and I add to his team. Knowing that he is pleased helps me relax a bit.

Copyright © 2013 Kimberly Kolb

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8790-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8791-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8792-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907555

Over the next few weeks I will be sharing the initial chapters of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue, my award winning debut novel.  Lindsey is a Young Adult (YA) Romantic Thriller. To find out more about the book please visit: http://www.kimberlykolb.com/

If you enjoy these initial chapters please share them on FB with your friends: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKimberlyKolb

And download the full version of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue today on Amazon: http://amzn.to/19IoVPM or at Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ngP0Zl

Enjoy!

Lindsey

Love and Intrigue

Kimberly Kolb

To

my mother, Barbara, for always making the time;

my father, Donato, for making me believe every problem can be solved;

my husband, Jeff, for countless moments that were better than I ever could have imagined;

and to the sixteen-year-old in each of us, for your unending capacity to dream.

Contents

Acknowledgments

2.       Gymnastics: First practice.

3.       A Ride Home: This changes everything.

4.       First Football Game: The football team won, but I seem to be in the lead.

5.       The Party: Sorry night was cut short.

6.       My Ride: Fade to black.

7.       Pairing Up: Just looking at him makes me nervous.

8.       Empty: Everyone peaks at a different time.

9.       In Person: I’m gonna kill my routines.

10.     North Meets South: All’s well that ends well.

11.     Homecoming Dance: I’m in way over my head.

12.     Auditions: Should you trust me? Always.

13.     An Evening at Home: Why is everything a code?

14.     Play Rehearsal: He barely brushes his lips to my neck.

15.     Flower Day: Wonder if I will ever know.

16.     My birthday: Yours, Chris.

17.     North vs. South: Game on.

18.     A Night Out: Sweet dreams.

19.     Research: A huge weight has been lifted.

20.     Pickup Truck: Who’s that guy?

21.     Halloween: Will we ever have our first kiss?

22.     Dracula: Remember you’re mine.

23.     Our First Real Date: All of you.

24.     Hockey Night: Friends of yours?

25.     Thanksgiving Weekend: A third wheel.

26.     Date Night: Time to get ready.

27.     A Cold Winter Night: I’ve lost my grip.

28.     The Clubhouse: Thank you.

29.     A Plan: They’re watching me.

30.     The Final Plea: Why me?

31.     Epilogue

I would like to thank my mom, Barbara Cantalupo, for being the first to read my initial rough draft and for her long hours of skilled editing of those early versions. I would also like to thank my dad, Donato Cantalupo, for always believing in me and the paths I choose.

I am grateful to my husband, Jeff, for supporting me in this, and all my endeavors.

I want to thank my uncle Jack Hess for putting words to this project when I couldn’t, and Jack and his wife, Pat, for reading an early draft and encouraging me through to publication.

To my dear friend Michelle Kilbourne—we walked together for hours and sat in many coffee shops over the course of several years. At the end of the journey, you received your PhD and I have published my book. I can only hope my kids have friends who encourage and challenge them as much.

And to everyone who has believed in me—teachers, coaches, colleagues, friends, and family—I thank you. I am indebted to you for your kind words of encouragement.

First day of school. I wonder who’ll be in my classes.

As I shower and start getting ready, my mind begins to wander. What will this year bring? Will I have girlfriends—real girlfriends—or will it be like it’s always been, me as mostly a loner? I’ve always had friends, but not good friends. Not the kinds of friends you read about or see girls have in the movies. I tend to get along better with guys. Girls are so much trickier. Well, at least for me. I think I’m the only fifteen-year-old girl in the world that doesn’t have three BFFs.

Looking in the mirror, all I think is ughh. I wonder who’ll be in the cool crowd this year. Mostly I like not being part of a group. I’m just me. I hang out with the kids I like, regardless of whether they’re popular or not or which group they’re a part of. Truth is, I wish I was more outgoing and social. The kids who are outgoing seem to be friends with everyone. I know most of the kids in high school think I’m shy. Maybe I am. More than anything, I think most of what they talk about is ridiculous, so I choose not to join in.

It would be so much easier to be a guy. Wake up, two minutes in the shower, throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and show up at school—instant cool. Instead, I’m faced with an endless array of decisions like, should I straighten my hair or curl it? Should I wear eyeliner or just blush and lip gloss? Then there’s the annual challenge of selecting an outfit for the first day of school. The judgment girls place on that first-day-of-school outfit is tangible. I guess the guys are judging too. Who gained weight over the summer? Who got taller? Who changed their hair? Nightmare. At least Mom has taken me shopping so I have plenty to choose from, but walking into my closet now, suddenly nothing seems right. What will the girls wear this year?

Staring at my organized closet, I decide on jeans that I know fit well, with a new pink top. Grabbing my backpack off one of the built-in hooks, I head downstairs. Of course, I’m the only one left in the entire junior class who’s still fifteen and can’t drive yet, but luckily my neighbor Isabella will give me a ride to school.

��

As I ring Isabella’s doorbell, I wonder if it’s really Tuesday. What if it’s actually Monday, Labor Day, and I wake up her whole family on the wrong day? Stop it. Of course it’s Tuesday. No one’s home at my house, right? Mom and Dad already left for work, so it must at least be a weekday. Wonder if I’ll ever stop questioning myself as to what day of the week it is. Do other people do this? Some probably do, but they likely live in a different kind of “home.” Smirk. My mind turns to Isabella. I’m sure I’ll get an update on everything she and Rick, her boyfriend, have been doing. They’ll go to the homecoming dance together. I wonder if anyone will—

“Hello, Lindsey!” beams Mrs. Castiglioni. Isabella’s mom is like chocolate chip cookies, warm and inviting.

“Hi,” I say as she gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“How was your vacation out east? Must have been wonderful; you got plenty of sun!” she continues while holding my arms, which are pale in comparison to her natural olive tone.

“It was great, thank you.”

“Hey,” Isabella says as she comes in, looking ridiculously pulled together. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

We step through her foyer and into the garage, and I wonder which guys got cuter over the summer. Guess I’m as judgmental as the rest. Will he be in any of my classes? As we slide into Isabella’s car, the music is already on. We head out and drive around the lake.

Isabella and I are not really close, but then again, am I close to anyone? I consider Elena and Melissa friends, but am I really close to them? Isabella’s family has lived in the area for a while, and ever since I moved here, she has been nice to me.

And she’s willing to drive me to school, so I figure I should at least try to be social. “How’s Rick?” I ask.

“Terrific. We’re doing great. It’s been eight months—can you believe it?”

“That long?”

“I bet we stay together forever!”

“Hmm.” Forever? Seriously, this is exactly why I don’t get girls. Forever. Right! Why would you want to be with him forever?

Glancing around our small town, I remember riding through it for the first time. Nervous, excited, and mad that we had moved! Again!

We moved here, to Emit, Michigan, from the suburbs of Chicago the summer between my seventh- and eighth-grade years. I remember my dad and I were on one of our walks when he told me that he would be leaving his office at the end of the school year to start his own practice and that we would be moving to Michigan. My dad had started his career as a lawyer working for the New York District Attorney’s Office prosecuting some of what he calls “the-most-violent-criminals.” He says it like it’s one word. Then we moved from New York to Chicago, and he worked as a lead prosecutor for their state attorney’s office.

We moved from New York because of what our family knows as “the Case”—the Case that changed things. I still don’t know much about the Case because it’s one of those things you just don’t bring up. Whenever I mention it, my dad’s face tightens. He cracks his neck and usually answers in curt responses until he or my mom changes the subject. What I do know is that he had been preparing to go to trial to prosecute a sixteen-year-old who had apparently sexually assaulted and brutally beaten a couple of young girls. My dad was planning to try him as an adult. Before the trial even started, my dad received an anonymous letter letting him know that the author hoped my dad was successful in prosecuting this kid and sending him to jail for life. The letter said that if my dad was the prosecuting attorney and the kid ever walked free again, the writer would ensure I would understand what pain was before burying me alive.

Dad was brought up by parents who had immigrated to the United States, and he was raised with very strong family values. His Italian father died young, but my mom once told me Dad knew what his father would have said to him about caring for me. Hearing his father’s advice in his head, Dad immediately transferred the case to another attorney.

My father refers to the kid who was accused as the Animal. The Animal cut a deal with the new lawyer and only served nine months in a juvenile facility. In the year following his release, three girls were brutally murdered in New York. There was no physical evidence at the crime scenes, except one thing, the same at each. My initials, LB, were carved into a tree within a few hundred feet of each of the girls. My dad, and all the authorities, are convinced the Animal killed all three of them. These remain open, unsolved cases.

I know Dad thinks he would have been able to try the Animal as an adult, won the case, and sent him off to a real jail. I think Dad has always felt responsible for those three girls killed in New York. He’s never given up a case since. After the Case, I think my dad felt like he needed a fresh start, so we moved to Chicago.

After a few years in the state attorney’s office in Chicago, Dad took a position at the US attorney’s office in Chicago. I guess he has always been a good courtroom attorney, but he really built his reputation during his years as a prosecutor in Chicago. He had several major cases that gave him a lot of national notoriety. He told me once that with his record, he should be able to build a strong private practice on his own, and my mom had always wanted to live in a bit more rural area. He started building the business when we were in Chicago, and he must have gotten some good clients because my mom built her dream home on the lake when we moved here to Emit.

Now he has a thriving practice. He says it’s much better because he gets to pick his clients and his cases, whereas when he worked for the government, he had to take whichever case they gave to him. I think he still likes to be involved in criminal work, but now he also gets to work with clients like our neighbor Mr. Kirkwood, in corporate law. Truth is, Dad still seems to get asked to consult on some of the high-profile cases being prosecuted by his old government offices in Chicago.

As Isabella and I pull into the student parking lot, my thoughts are interrupted. I see him: Chris Buckley. Sigh. He waves at us, so of course Isabella waves back. Wow, he always looks … Wait, is he looking at me? He spent last spring semester and the summer studying abroad in London, so I haven’t seen him since the fall of our sophomore year. As always, he looks terrific. I glance over at Isabella, as I assume he’s eyeing her—and realize she’s on her phone and totally engrossed in conversation with someone, probably her boyfriend, Rick. Turning back, I think Chris looks my way for just a second, then he turns to grab his backpack. Maybe he’ll be in one of my classes again this year. I certainly hope so. If not, maybe he’ll try out for the fall play; he’s clearly one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed being part of the school’s productions. Wonder who he’s seeing. I’ve had a crush on him since eighth grade, when my family moved to town. We had a fleeting moment of romance back then, and ever since he’s always been nice to me, but sadly I’m not even sure he knows I’m a girl. Maybe this’ll be the year that things change. Who knows? I’ve daydreamed about him more than I want to admit—even to myself.

Shock, Rick parks right next to Isabella.

“Hey, Lindsey.”

“Hey, Rick. Thanks for the ride, Isabella.”

“Sure. See ya!” she says as she walks off with Rick’s arm around her. I wonder what she sees in him. I guess he’s cute enough, but he’s definitely not one of the smartest guys in the class. What have they talked about for eight months? Seriously. On the other hand, I bet I could think of eight months of things to talk about with Chris.

Next thing I know, Rick’s brother, Kevin, is standing next to me. Kevin is a senior, towering over me at six foot one; he’s in the honor society, plays soccer, and has been dating the oh-so-perfect Andrea for the past year.

“Hi, Lindsey, nice tan.”

“Oh … um, thanks.” Why are you talking to me? “How, uh … how was your summer?”

“Pretty good; I didn’t see you around much.”

“Oh, yeah, well, I guess I spent a lot of time at gymnastics practice, and I was visiting family the last couple weeks in August.” Nervously I keep looking down and playing with the zipper on my backpack. As I glance up, I notice in the split second that we make eye contact, he’s smiling at me. He pulls his backpack over his shoulder, grabs his gym bag, and starts to walk toward school. I start to dig out my iPhone so when Kevin starts walking in with someone else, which should be happening any minute now, I can at least listen to my tunes and look normal even though I’m alone. I quickly look around the school grounds to see where Chris has gone. No sign of him. Oh, well.

Just then Kevin turns back and asks, “You are coming to class, right?”

“Huh? Oh, um, yeah.” As I start across the student parking lot, I can’t help but notice that he seems to be slowing down. Is he waiting for me? A lowly junior? Should I catch up with him? He must be waiting for Andrea. I decide to walk in his general direction, which, after all, is in the direction of the school entrance, so that way I can either meet up with him, if by some strange twist of fate he does want to walk with me, or I can just head to the building, in the more likely case that he barely knows my name and I’m hallucinating this entire interaction. I probably imagined Chris noticing me too. Great start to the year, Lindz.

As I continue to walk in Kevin’s general direction, in a deliberately slow manner, I see Andrea wave at him from across the lot in an overly enthusiastic way. Okay, hallucination officially over. Cue Kevin eagerly walking over to Andrea and putting his arm on her shoulder.

Wait a minute. Did he just nod at her? What does that mean? Well, she is walking with some friends. I keep my steady, slow pace and approach Kevin.

“So, what’s your first class?” he says as he seems to be matching my stride.

“Oh um, chemistry, with Lyons,” trying to seem casual on the outside as I am totally dying on the inside. Why are you walking with me?

“I had him last year—good luck with that.”

“Thanks.” As I try to focus on what he’s saying, I can’t help but notice that he continues to walk with me. Okay, so he’s just being polite. His mother works at our school and is so nice; she would be proud of his good manners.

As he heads down the hall, he says, “My locker’s this way, but maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Sure.” Heading to my locker, I nod at a few kids I haven’t seen since the end of last year. I wonder why Kevin didn’t walk in with Andrea.

There’s the Fab Five gabbing it up. Jennifer is across their circle from me and is nice enough to call over to me as I pass the group in the hallway, “Hey, Lindsey!”

It’s fair to say that I have a soft voice, so I try to call back loud enough so she can hear me over the general din of students starting the year, as well as the Fab Five discussing … who knows what, “Hey, Jennifer.”

“You going to practice today?” she says with genuine enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah! I’ll be there.”

“Great. See you then.” Jennifer and I have been on the same club gymnastics team since I moved here. It’s nice of her to acknowledge me while the Fab Five is holding court. The others do not even seem to notice. Shock. Those are the kind of friends I don’t need.

As I turn the corner to get to my locker, I see Jon. I can’t help but smile, although I consciously control it to a small curl. I must admit a part of me is seriously hoping that his crush on me is still in full throttle. It was nice last year to at least have one guy notice me for more than just the fact that I’m still considered the “new kid.” Jon is a sophomore, and a rather cute one. I’m not really interested in Jon. At least for me, there weren’t any feelings last year, but if I’m honest, I get a huge surge from the attention he gives me.

“Hey, Lindsey. Good to see you,” he says as he hooks one arm over the top of his locker in a smooth, but deliberate, attempt to look casual.

“Hey, Jon, how was your summer?” I give him a sideways glance, and although I’m actually shooting to look him in his eyes, I realize he grew a good two inches and I’m looking at his dimpled chin.

“Good. My trip with my folks to London and Paris for a few weeks was great. How ’bout you?”

“Cool! Oh, you know, the usual.” I throw my backpack into my locker, and slam it shut. He slams his as well. I suspected he was already done with his locker when I had turned the corner, but now I’m pretty sure he still has a crush on me. And I’m selfishly thrilled at the prospect. As I look up into his gray-blue eyes, which don’t seem to leave me even as his friends are greeting him, I ask if he has chemistry first period.

“Yep—shall we?” he says with that familiar glint in his eyes. It’s our traditional greeting. Last year we had first-period biology together, and he always said, “Shall we?” and I would reply, “Surely,” which I do again this morning.

I feel a little guilty walking down the hall with Jon, because I know I’m probably not going to go out with a lower classman. I wonder … does Kevin, who’s a senior, have the same rule? Happily, Chris and I are both juniors, so the dream lives on. But Jon seems to know I’m not really interested in him in that way, and he doesn’t appear to care. No idea why—but I figure why not enjoy the attention from Jon since Chris isn’t giving me any?

Walking down the hall we hear the first bell, and we both quicken our pace. I’m always glad to have someone to walk with down the back hallway—the so-called “burnout” hallway. I hate going down here alone. All the kids that smoke hang out back here. Why do they all wear black?

I see Mark tossing out his cigarette butt in the courtyard and smile. Mark is such a rugged outdoorsman. Always going camping, or rock climbing, or something outdoorsy. I admire how comfortable he is out in nature.

“Hey, Mark,” I say, and with this, Jon looks over to see who I know in this particular hallway.

“Hey, Lindsey, how’s it going?”

“Good. When do you have lunch?” I ask, and I’m glad we still seem to be friends.

“Third—you?” he asks.

“Fourth, but they overlap so maybe I’ll see ya later,” I say as I pass by, still walking with Jon. Fortunately, no one else talks to us as we turn into the chemistry lab, because except for Mark, the rest of the crowd looks way too tough for me. The usual array of kids are in chemistry, and Mr. Lyons is already projecting his tablet on the screen. I’m hoping that Jon will sit with me at a lab table. Given that he’ll likely be salutatorian or valedictorian for his class, being his lab partner will just about guarantee an “A” for me in the class. So I turn to him and ask, “Lab partners?” The prospect of flirting with him for the year is also exciting in a ridiculously giddy way.

With a broad smile across his face, he responds, “Definitely,” as he guides me to a table in the back corner by the window. And the Crush lives on. I know I shouldn’t enjoy the attention as much as I do, but I just can’t help it.

��

For third-period English, I choose a seat toward the back, but most of the seats are still open as we still have a few minutes before the class bell. I assume most kids already know who will be in their classes and will walk in with a friend. Almost everyone at school posts their schedules online in a “private” area, which ironically they give most of the school access to. My dad won’t let me join any of those websites, let alone post any information about myself online. Both of my parents are attorneys, but they work in very different areas of the law. One of the many benefits of my dad having been a district attorney for many years is his general distrust. Rather than the typical American perspective of innocent until proven guilty, my dad works from the perspective that everyone I meet is a criminal until proven otherwise. I always kind of knew this, but it really hit home when I made the mistake once in fourth grade of telling my folks about my day at school and mentioning that a boy was picking on me.

At that dinner I think I learned what an inquisition is. Dad went completely crazy. Asking me all kinds of questions, over and over again. “Did he touch you? Has he ever hurt you? What exactly do you mean ‘picking on you’? How long has this been going on? What did the teacher say?” I don’t think he even knew my teacher’s name before that. Next thing I knew he was scheduling meetings with my teacher, the principal, and the kid’s parents. He blew the entire situation completely out of proportion. The truth is the kid would just say mean things to me at recess and lunch, basically anytime he saw me when a teacher wasn’t around. But after my dad’s string of meetings, not only did that kid tease me, but so did all his creepy friends. I learned very quickly to be careful what I said about other kids at school.

Then Chris Buckley walks in, and I’m instantly thrilled. I see him and my mind can’t think of anything else. Chris has perfect hair, shiny and brown, with subtle blond highlights that seem to spike and fall in a casual precision around his face. He is about six feet tall and has a completely adorable, dimpled smile that lights up his eyes, making it impossibly contagious. I don’t think he has ever really had a girlfriend, but he always seems to have a date. He’s one of those guys who are so handsome and cool everyone likes him. All the girls want to date him and hope to be the one he actually chooses as a girlfriend, and the guys all want to hang out with him. To me, he is simply devastating: bright blue eyes framed with long, dark lashes; broad shoulders; and a lean muscular build. Unattainable perfection realized.

Chris says, “Hey, Rob! Hey, Jason!” Jason gets a knuckle bump as his greeting from Chris. I’m, of course, still looking at him, as I assume is most of the room. Does he even notice that girls stare at him all day long?

“Hey, Chris!” bursts out Amanda. Amanda is another member of the Fab Five, the most popular group of girls in our class. Whatever “popular” really means. Nightmare. They will, of course, all be on homecoming court next year. Amanda is okay. Maybe not the worst of the bunch, but clearly she figures Chris is in her league. Isn’t that how it always is? The best-looking, most-popular guys, all seem to be taking turns dating the best-looking, most-popular girls. Nightmare.

“Amanda,” Chris responds with an easy smile.

Amanda continues to glow in his direction. “I forgot you’re in Ms. Lowen’s English class. This is gonna be fabulous.” Right. You forgot he’s in your class. He slides into the desk behind Jason, just in front of me, the seat next to Amanda. Great. I’m sure she won’t be chatting him up all year. I know I’m not an outcast, but I’m also not in the “in crowd.” I wonder what this year will bring. But my thoughts are interrupted when Chris turns the full force of his killer dimpled smile on me, “Hey, Lindsey! Wassup?”

Time changes pace, seeming to both slow and quicken simultaneously. These are the moments when I wish I wasn’t so quiet. All the other girls seem to always have something clever to say and deliver what seem like their scripted lines in such an engaging way. The guys flock to them like bees to honey. That’s just not who I am.

Stealing a quick glance in his direction, I say, “Hey, Chris.”

He raises his eyebrows and starts to ask me, “Hey, are you …” only to be interrupted by Ms. Lowen starting class, “Welcome back from summer vacation, ladies and gentlemen.” Chris rolls his eyes as he turns back to face Ms. Lowen at the front of the classroom.

Am I what? Aware something is on my face? That my hair is sticking out? That my fly is open? Unconsciously I check my fly. Everything fine there. Next I run my hand through my hair; seems fine. What is Ms. Lowen saying? She spends the first half of class explaining how our grade will be calculated. The second half of class, we jump right in and start a poetry unit.

��

Class bell. Lunch is next. I hope there are kids I know in my lunch period. I already know that Melissa has lunch with me, so at least I can look for her. As we all start leaving English, Chris is chatting with Jason and Rob, so I make my way to the front of the room to head toward my locker before lunch.

“Bye, Lindsey.”

“See ya, Chris.” Huh? No idea what he was going to say earlier, but at least he acknowledged me before leaving the room. Take that, Amanda!

��

Walking down the hall, I see Joel weaving through some kids to walk with me.

“Hey, Lindsey.”

“Hey, Joel.” Looking at the lake we live on, Isabella is my neighbor on the south, or right, side of our house, while Joel and his brothers are our neighbor to the north, or left, side.

“How was your vacation?”

“Good, thanks.”

“We missed you out on the lake the last few weeks.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure you found plenty to do.”

“I guess. Hey, Mike and I are having a party next Saturday after the football game.”

“Really? Cool.” Mike is Joel’s fraternal twin.

“You should come over.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“There’ll be a lot of kids there. Anyway, I should get to class before the bell. Hey, when do you have chemistry—maybe we have it together?”

“I had it first, too bad. I’ll see ya.”

“See ya.”

Heading into the lunchroom, I’m hoping that Melissa is already here and saving me a seat. Looking around for someone I know, I see Chris coming out of the lunch line. Smiling at him, I turn toward where Melissa and I sat last year and am glad to see her there.

“Hey, Melissa,” I say softly, hoping the seat next to her is for me.

“Hey, Lindsey! Here; sit here.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna go get some food, I’ll be right back.” Whew. Someone to sit with at lunch.

��

Last period is study hall, which I can take in the cafeteria or the library. I opt for the library in order to avoid all the inevitable socializing I will be left out of in the cafeteria. I head to a large corner table and sit alone, in hopes of getting my history homework done before gymnastics practice. I’m so lost in my own thoughts I don’t even realize that Kevin Walker is standing next to me until he deliberately clears his throat. Is that the second time he cleared his throat? Oh, man.

As I look up and say hi, he gestures to the obviously empty table I’m at and asks if I’m sitting with anyone.

I stammer, “Well, um, no. Oh, I’m sorry; do you need the table for a group? I … I can move to one of the cubes,” and I start to gather my books and papers.

“No. No, I’m just wondering if I can join you.” He just oozes confidence while mine seems to be draining away.

Oh sure, I’d love to sit with you and Andrea, I think as I hear myself mumble, “Sure, no problem.” Pushing my backpack out of his way, he sits right across from me. I rest my head on my hand as I force myself to return to reading so as not to look at him, although I have the distinct feeling he’s watching me. Or is it the rest of the room staring at us? They’re all probably wondering the same thing I am—why is Kevin Walker sitting with her? Shouldn’t he be with Andrea? Or some other knockout senior?

“So, what are you studying?”

Is he still talking to me or did he call someone? As I tilt my head slightly and look over to him, I realize he is talking to me with his eyebrows raised and half a smile, as if he’s amusing himself.

“Um, history.”

Sarcastically he comments, “Must be fascinating.”

“Completely,” I say, and much to my own surprise, I hold his gaze rather than look away.

“Did you get a lot of homework?” he asks, and keeps his eyes fixed on me.

“Uh, not much, you?” Is this really happening? Nervously I look away.

“Nah, just the usual first-day stuff. You have practice tonight?”

“Yeah, first practice here for the high school team. You?” I manage to say, but I’m still consumed with the question Why are you here?

“Yeah,” he says.

The librarian starts to take a stroll around the room as a not-so-subtle reminder that we aren’t supposed to be talking.

As I glance around the library, I see three guys from Kevin’s soccer team at another table; and, oh great, two of Andrea’s friends are in the back. Did they just look at me? Man, she is going to be ticked. He sits with me, and somehow I know I’ll be the topic of their text messages.

Turning back to my homework, I try to study. I must have read the same sentence five times—I can’t even grasp the meaning. How much time has passed? Kevin has a book out that he seems to be reading. As I try to sneak a peek up at him … Oh damn! I shoot my eyes right back down at my book—is he still looking at me? I look back at him more deliberately; is there something in his eyes?

“What?” I whisper.

In his own hushed tone, “Nothing. What? Just studying.”

“Studying what?” I ask.

He just smiles and raises an eyebrow in response. Like a fool, I smile uncontrollably and feel the blush building. Humiliating. Back to history. I promise myself I will actually read the rest of this section without letting him distract me. Focus. Focus!

The last bell of the day rings. Thank goodness. I expect Kevin to go meet up with his soccer friends and that will be that, but as I pack up, I notice that he’s waiting for me. I know he’s waiting as he has only one book out and has it in his backpack in a flash. I’m so distracted that I drop my notebook, which he picks up and starts to put into his own bag. “Hey!” I say quietly with a smile.

“Just kidding,” he says, handing it back to me.

“Ready?” he asks as I swing my backpack over my shoulder.

“Sure,” I say in an obviously timid manner, which prompts a smirk across his square jaw.

As we walk toward the locker rooms, he asks when our first meet is.

“We have a mock meet here two weeks from Wednesday—but there aren’t any judges.”

“My first soccer game is next Thursday,” he says as he looks down at me with that same smirk.

We approach the guys’ locker room first. As he turns to open the door, he looks back and in an unusually quiet voice says, “See you later,” with a look on his face that made me think of one of my grandmother’s many sayings—he looks like the cat that ate the canary. And I can’t help wondering why that came to mind. I should really call Grandma. Anyway, no time now. I need to change and get up to gymnastics practice.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

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Copyright © 2013 Kimberly Kolb

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8790-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8791-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8792-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907555

Recently I was invited by fellow author, Jason Leclerc, to participate in a Writing Process Blog Tour – thank you Jason! To find out more information about Jason, his work and his writing process please go to his website at http://www.momentitiousness.com/home.html

As part of this blog tour I will share with you information about my writing process, by answering 4 questions. At the end of this post you will find links to the next author, Shari Brady, who is participating in this blog tour as well.

1) What am I working on?

I am currently supporting the launch of my debut novel, Lindsey: Love & Intrigue. When I tell my friends that I started Lindsey on Sunday, April 5, 2009, and that it was published in June of 2013 they are often surprised by how long the process takes. What I think would be more surprising to most readers is how much work goes into supporting a new book, particularly if you are an unknown author. As a working mother of three I spend as much time as possible supporting my book, but I know it will be an even longer road supporting it than it was to get it written and published.

That said, many who have read my book have asked if there will be a sequel. I am happy to say that I have written about half of the sequel and have the outline of that book completed. I also have the basic plot of a third. But the truth is that publishing those will depend completely on Lindsey: Love & Intrigue picking up momentum.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Lindsey is a Young Adult (YA) Romantic Thriller. My book differs from most of this genre because I wrote an engaging story without extreme behavior of the main characters. As a parent, I want my kids to read books they will enjoy (because I want them to have a lifelong love of reading), but I also want the books to have socially appropriate content. In my search for age-appropriate content, I became increasingly frustrated by many of the novels being recommended. Just because a child is intellectually capable of understanding the words in a book, does not mean they are emotionally prepared to truly understand the socially charged topics presented. While many of these books are entertaining, my kids weren’t connecting with them or I thought the content was too extreme. Kids today are both concerned and curious about their teenage years. They will benefit from the glimpse they will get into the typical challenges they will face and the decisions they will confront, as they read Lindsey. Seeing these scenes play out in a story will get them thinking and better prepare them for dealing with them in real life.

3) Why do I write what I do?

I wrote Lindsey because as I enjoy YA novels that have a romantic component as well as a mystery. I wrote because I love these characters and enjoy seeing them interact both in my mind and on the page.

4) How does my writing process work?

I started with the basic story and main characters I adore. I spent months just developing these characters in my mind, fleshing out their strengths and weaknesses. Then when I felt that I knew them the way you know a good friend, I sat down and wrote the first draft front to back.

If you choose to read Lindsey, you will slowly become aware of some nefarious characters in the background. As my novel is written from the perspective of Lindsey, the reader is not privy to these characters activities directly. As the author, I have written out the scenes of these characters which I believe enriches my understanding of them and therefore enriches their impact on the protagonist, Lindsey, and the reader.

Let me introduce you to the next Author on the Tour:

Shari A. Brady is an award-winning, young adult novelist. Her debut novel, Wish I Could Have Said Goodbye won numerous awards within the first six months of its release, including the Moonbeam Children’s Book Award and the Independent Publisher’s Book Award. She’s a native Chicagoan and graduate of Loyola University’s Business School and University of Chicago’s Creative Writing program. She’s currently at work on her next novel, All the World’s a Stage, set for release in 2014. She lives in suburban Chicago with two of the best kids ever, and their shelter dog, Betty Queen Elizabeth.

To find out more about Shari and her books, and be the first to read her new release, go to www.sharibrady.com and sign up for her newsletter.

The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.

Terry Pratchett

is an English author of fantasy novels, especially comical works. He is best known for the Discworld series of about 40 volumes.

(born 28 April 1948)1

1Wikipedia

Adapted by Kimberly Kolb

Original written by Clement Clarke Moore

‘Twas the night before a tourney, when all thro’ the manor,

Not a player was stirring, not even a winger;

The hockey socks were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that Lord Stanley soon would be there;

The mites were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of  spin-o-ramas danc’d in their heads,

And Mama in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap-

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a breakaway dash,

Tore open the boards, and smashed all the glass.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

Gave the luster of mid-day to the rink just below;

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a tiny Zamboni, and eight mini rein-deer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than Mikita his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:

“Now! Toews, now! Sutter, now! Larmer and Kaner,

“On! Savard, on! Secord, on! Murray and Fraser,

“To the top of the goal! To the top of the wall!

“Now breakaway! Breakaway! Breakaway all!”

As dry leaves before the street game do fly,

When they meet with a Blackhawk, mount to the sky;

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the Zamboni full of Toys – and St. Nicholas too:

And then in a twinkling, I heard in the mix,

The prancing and pawing of all of their sticks.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound:

He was dress’d in his gear, from his head to his foot,

His jersey was tarnish’d with ashes and soot;

A bag full of Bauer was flung on his back,

And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack:

His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little mouth was drawn up so nice,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the ice;

Number twenty-five he wore on his jersey of red,

But instead of a helmet he wore a stocking cap instead.

He had a broad face, and a little round belly

That shook when he played shinny, like a bowl full of jelly:

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I cheered when I saw him in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had no penalty to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And fill’d all the stockings; then turn’d with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-

Happy Hockey to all, and to all a good night.

I hope you enjoyed my adaptation of this wonderful poem.  I am the award-winning author of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue, a romantic thriller (as well as a hockey mom).  The protagonist in my story, high school junior Lindsey, has a crush on Chris, who plays hockey.  In fact, most of Chapter 24 is about a game he and his friends are playing in. If you haven’t done so already, why not give my new book a try?   

“Procrastination is one of the most common and deadliest of diseases

and its toll on success and happiness is heavy…”

Wayne Gretzky

January 26, 1961 –

The Great One

Tonight NBC presented a live broadcast of The Sound of Music starring Carrie Underwood and Stephen Moyer which got me to thinking about originals vs. remakes. Granted the 1959 version was a film and tonight’s broadcast is a live show, but it’s a remake of sorts. I believe The Sound of Music movie starring Julie Andrews will always be a classic. Tonight’s live version was enjoyable, and certainly impressive given it was presented live, but it was too different to really compare it to the movie.






Dave Fancher / Foter.com / CC BY-NC

If you consider Alfred Hitchcock’s classic Dial M for Murder (1954) starring Ray Milland, Grace Kelly, and it’s remake A Perfect Murder (1998) starring Michael Douglas and Gwyneth Paltrow, I think they are both excellent. The remake honors the plot of the original but the skilled cast, current setting and a plot changes make each film unique and engaging in their own right.

Another movie originally by Alfred Hitchcock was Rear Window. This 1942 classic starred James Stewart, Grace Kelly, Wendell Corey, Thelma Ritter and Raymond Burr. The remake was Disturbia made in 2007 starring Shia LaBeouf, David Morse, Sarah Roemer and Carrie-Anne Moss. Again I think these are both very good movies, each different enough to stand alone and yet Disturbia still honors its roots in Rear Window.

At this time of year you can’t help but notice all the versions of A Christmas Carol that have been made, from a Disney’s cartoon Mickey’s Christmas Carol to Scrooge, the delightful 1970 musical version starring Albert Finney, to Scrooged the 1988 comedic version starring . As for me? I love them all – Charles Dicken’s tale is wonderful in all forms. My personal favorite is the live version presented annually at the Chicago Goodman Theater.

In doing research for this post I was surprised to see how many films I have watched were actually remade. Knowing this now I plan to go back and watch some of the originals. Here is a link to a list of films that have been remade.

What do you think – are there some movies that shouldn’t be remade because the original was so good? What movie do you like both the original and the remake? Is there one you think the remake is better than the ordinal? Please share your comments.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use

to change the world.”

Nelson Mandela

July 18, 1918 – December 5, 2013

Today I quote Nelson Mendela in honor of his life, which sadly ended today.

As we approach Thanksgiving, I think we all become a bit reflective for all that we have to be thankful for. One of the best ways to express your appreciation for all your good fortune during the holiday season (and all year) is to volunteer.  There are countless charities that are doing fine work.  I wanted to share a few organization that I support. Add a comment with a link to your favorite charity to get involved in.

Send a warm holiday greeting to a veteran, military family or active-duty service member at hospitals or military installation around the world.  All you need to do is make or buy a few holiday cards (please see the website for guidelines like no glitter {as it is harmful to those with health issues} and how to address and sign the cards) and send your cards to this P.O. Box so they arrive by December 6th. This is a great way for “Children of all ages” to participate in a charity:

Holiday Mail for Heroes

P.O. Box 5456

Capitol Heights, MD 20791-5456

This charity feeds children all over the world year-round as well as providing emergency meals for such tragedies as the recent Typhoon in the Philippians.  How do they do it? As per their website, “children and adults hand-pack meals specifically formulated for malnourished children, and we ship these meals to nearly 70 countries around the world.” I have volunteered at one of their local permanent centers near my home in Illinois with my kids and their friends.  In two hours a room full of volunteers can pack literally thousands of meals.  This is a highly organized charity that has broken down the tasks into very simply steps that anyone can do.  They will allow volunteers as young as Kindergarten participate. This is a great way to spend a few hours with your friends having fun knowing you are making a real difference in a child’s life. (They ask for monetary donations when you volunteer, but it is not mandatory and there is no pressure to contribute.) This is my kids favorite way to achieve their volunteer hours for school.

This amazing program is truly changing lives for many people in Chicago.  As per their website, “The Cara Program prepares and inspires motivated individuals to break the cycle of homelessness and poverty, transform their lives, strengthen our communities, and forge paths to real and lasting success.” I have volunteered at The Cara Program over the past few years and am always impressed with both the students and the staff.  The staff is an amazing team of hardworking, caring, motivated individuals. Every Monday – Thursday at 9:00 am they have a meeting called “Motivations!” it is the most impactful, motivating and moving 30 minutes I have ever experienced.  This charity has opportunities for adult volunteers in Chicago (sorry teens).

Add a comment here in my blog or on my Facebook page and let me know where you like to volunteer.  Let’s spread the word together about charities doing great work.  I’d love to hear from you!

 “I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I do know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.”

Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965);

Philosopher, Physician, Nobel Peace Prize Winner1

1 http://www.values.com/inspirational-quotes/value/102-Volunteering2 

Recently I was presenting to a group of college students and was asked what I do to manage stress, and given the follow–up comments other students shared on the topic I thought I would make this week’s blog about How I Manage Stress.






gadl / Foter.com / CC BY-SA

First you need to know that everyone feels stressed at one time or another.  Some people are very good at concealing their stress while others display it openly for the world (often they have no idea how visible it is!) I have certainly had my share as well.  Over the years I think I have heard how to manage it better than I used to. I think the way to manage stress is to be proactive and manage yourself so that you keep stress to a minimum in the first place.  Here are the tactics that work for me:

1)      No Caffeine

Yep, you read that correctly. I don’t drink caffeine. I gave it up ‘cold-turkey’ about 16 years ago.  Prior to that I was downing Diet Cokes like I was in a contest, and when I stopped drinking anything with caffeine I had a headache for three weeks. I do realize I am not selling this idea very well in the short term… but long term? It has been a big payoff for me. I have more energy and it is more even throughout the day.  I sleep better and wake up and am ready to go.

2)      Early to bed Early to Rise

So it turns out that some of those ‘old wives tales’ have some truth to them.  I get up by 4:30 a.m. on days I work and by 6:30 a.m. most every other day.  And when I get up I start working right away whether it is working out, working at my job or working on my projects (like supporting my first novel, Lindsey: Love & Intrigue or super fun stuff like the laundry!)  - I start early.

3)      Get 6.5 hours of sleep a night

I think most of us adults think we need a lot more sleep than we actually do.  I do just fine on about 6 and 1/2 hours of sleep a night.  I know, I know, tons of people say everyone needs 8 hours of sleep.  The truth is that at different ages we need different amount of sleep, so I am only referring to adults here (kids and teens definitely need more sleep!) But let’s look at the research (not the advertisements). This is from sleep expert Donald L. Bliwise, PhD, director of the program in sleep, aging, and chronobiology at Atlanta’s Emory University. He was the lead researcher on, “A six-year study of more than a million Americans shows that a good night’s sleep lasts seven hours. More sleep isn’t better. People who sleep for eight hours or more tend to die a bit sooner. Six hours’ sleep, on the other hand, isn’t that bad.” 1 Did you read that? If you sleep longer than 8 hours a night, you die sooner. Seriously!

In fact, according to researchers from the University of California, San Diego (UCSD) School of Medicine and the American Cancer Society, “individuals who now average 6.5 hours of sleep a night, can be reassured that this is a safe amount of sleep. From a health standpoint, there is no reason to sleep longer.”2 I couldn’t agree more.  But as I have already said, I think it needs to be fairly consistent in terms of when you go to bed and when you wake up.

4)      Don’t drink alcohol

Ok, many of my Facebook friends are young teens.  So let me be clear here.  If you are under age, don’t drink.  It really is that simple. (And NEVER, ever get into a car with someone who has.  Ever.)  For all the adults – I do drink alcohol on occasion (e.g. holidays, the occasional birthday celebration, etc.), but most of the time months and months go by and I don’t drink any alcohol. I think this helps me sleep better and wake up ready to go on a consistent basis.  Let’s face it 4:30 a.m. roles around pretty quick…

5)      Exercise

I think doing some kind of physical exercise on a regular bases also relieves stress. Whether you play sports, run or walk – adding exercise to your routine also helps to keep your stress in check.

And let’s all remember that a little stress often brings the best results, after all necessity is the mother of invention!

Add a comment here in my blog or on my Facebook page and let me know how you manage stress.  I’d love to hear from you!

 “To achieve great things, two things are needed:

a plan and not quite enough time.” 

Leonard Bernstein

former American conductor, composer, author, music lecturer and pianist.

1 http://www.webmd.com/sleep-disorders/news/20020214/are-you-sleeping-enough—-too-much

2 http://health.ucsd.edu/news/2002/02_08_Kripke.html

Are you writing a book?  Or have you ever dreamt about it? Then you should know that November is National Novel Writing Month. The idea is to write 50,000 words from November 1st – November 30th. Whether you are in school, working, raising your kids or retired, perhaps November of 2013 is the month you will start your novel?

If you have thought about writing, but never started, this website may provide the structure you need to begin.  If you have never considered writing, you may want to try it simply to enrich yourself.  In their FAQs they say that, “The act of sustained creation does bizarre, wonderful things to you. It changes the way you read. And changes, a little bit, your sense of self. We like that.” I couldn’t agree more.  Writing a novel has changed not only how I read, but how I observe the world.  It’s enriched the colors and made the subtleties in life more pronounced. More delicate. More delicious.

 

I never considered writing a book until the Spring of 2009.  On Sunday, April 5, 2009 I sat down.  Turned the TV off and began to write.  I hadn’t written anything but memos & presentations for work, and thank you notes to family and friends since college. That night I wrote 4,626 words, which is now Chapter 1 of my debut, award-winning novel, Lindsey: Love & Intrigue. The process of writing brought another world alive for me – much the way reading a great book brings a world alive. (Check out this blog to see my favorite authors.)

 

You may think that writing 50,000 words in a month sounds daunting.  I think it is a perfect goal. I tracked what I wrote every day in a spreadsheet. In my first month I wrote 50,442 words. I had guessed that my book would be 150,000, my published version is about 125,000.  It took me about 4 months to write that initial, very rough draft of the manuscript. It’s worth pointing out I spent a year editing it before sending a draft to my publisher.  It has been one of the most rewarding projects of my life.  I can’t encourage you enough to give writing a try. Even if you never want to publish your work, the process or pouring yourself on paper will benefit you in deep and meaningful ways.  One of my favorite Author’s, Dean Koontz says that it takes him 6-months to a year of 10-11 hour days to write a novel, depending on the length.1

 

To get more information on this program you can go to: http://nanowrimo.org/ to sign up.  It is free to sign up and it’s quick and easy to do so.

 

Add a comment here in my blog or on my FaceBook page and let me know what you plan to write.  I’d love to hear from you.

 

My regular readers know I close each blog with a quote.  Since I am talking about writing today, I will use my own quote for the first time:

 

“Life is about progress, not perfection. Dream big and work hard.”

Kimberly Kolb

-          Author of Lindsey: Love & Intrigue

1 http://www.deankoontz.com/writing-qa/

I think of Halloween as a celebration of Fall. It is the hauntingly fun kid-centric kick-off to all the holidays that are soon to follow through to the New Year. Halloween celebrates the best of Fall – jack-o-lanterns, richly colored leaves, costumes and candy. It is also a time when I am always drawn to scary movies and classic scary stories.

Two of my favorites are The Legend of Sleepy Hallow, by American author Washington Irving, published in 1820. If you haven’t read it, grab or download a copy and read this engaging tale of Ichabod Crane. The other classic story I am always drawn to around Halloween is, Dracula. A gripping, scary novel by Bram Stoker, published in 1897. The entire novel is told in epistolary format – a series of letters, diary entries, etc. It is a beautiful format to tell this horror story. Dracula is one of my all-time favorite books and I think often overlooked by readers as it has been made into a movie so many times. Like so many books-turned-movies, the book, written in its original form of letters, is significantly better than any of the movie versions I have seen (as good as some of those are.) If you have not read Dracula, grab a copy and curl up one chilly fall night and enjoy its scary tale as part of your Halloween season.1

I incorporated Dracula in my book, Lindsey: Love an Intrigue as the Fall high school play that the central characters, Lindsey and Chris, try out for and ultimately perform in. The play provides the platform for Lindsey and Chris to interact in a more personal and direct manner, while portraying two of the central characters, Mina and Dracula. As they play out the scenes in the play Lindsey starts to wonder if Chris knows she is not always acting when she shows interest in him.

Which is why I think so many of kids – kids, teens and adults – love Halloween, it gives us the opportunity to be someone different. Little girls may choose a princess or a witch. Young boys might choose a super hero or ghost. As we move into our teens we choose very carefully – perhaps a costume that is bolder than we normally act, or one that reveals the smallest part of our personality, which we almost never show to others, or one that makes a political statement that we believe in.

Some of the best costumes I have ever seen are the ones that aren’t bought in store, but are clever and custom made. One of my favorites was a young man who from his waist down was dressed as a man and from the waist up he was a gorilla sitting in a large cage. His arms were the gorilla’s arms and he attached a dummy behind the cage, which appeared to be carrying it. Brilliant! The only one I loved, many years ago, was a Christmas tree. Because this is the beginning of many fun holidays to come!

“There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part.”

Bram Stoker

- Author of Dracula

1Wikipedia