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About the Book
Seventeen-year-old vampire-hybrid Alena Scott can’t seem to catch a break. Not only does she fight her natural instincts with a controlling cheer captain, but she’s also the target of the school bully. These aren’t half her worries, when she finds her preschool imaginary friend at the library. Is he the key to uncovering her secret past? Or is his half-brother who she should be focusing on? As tensions escalate, time is of the essence. Will her mother’s kingdom be reduced to embers?
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The curtains swooshed open and light poured into my room. I mashed the feather pillow into my face wishing she would disappear.
“Can’t I be homeschooled. Or at least try online high school. One year. I’ve only got one year left.” I extended my arm towards the ceiling and thrusted my index finger up.
“You know what your mother would say.”
“Does she remember what it’s like to be a teenager? Can I get a replacement for her? Or at least a refund?”
“Now Alena. You know you don’t mean that.”
“You’re wrong.” I sat up and let the pillow fall to my lap.
“I have fresh flowers for you and the ribbons for your hair all laid out.”
“Ugh! I can’t believe they are making us wear uniforms the first day of school.” I flung the white silk cover from my legs and swung my feet to the floor.
“It’s a ribbon.” Elizabeth held up the red satin piece. “At least it’s a good color. That bright orange at your last school was hideous.”
“Don’t remind me of Cal High please.” I crossed my room and took the ribbon from her tapping my phone to check for a message from Kylee. She’d come up from San Ramon the past weekend and we’d bought matching outfits. We’d made a pact to text a selfie when we got dressed for school.
“Do you have your outfit picked out?”
“Yes.” Opening the door to my closet I lifted the black pants and silk top off the bar.
“Your mother approved it?”
“Last night.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll make your breakfast. Orm will have the car ready to leave in—” Elizabeth lifted her wrist “—fifty-five minutes.”
My hand went to my hip. “The car? I thought I could ride the bus.”
“Mother’s orders. LA is not like San Ramon.”
“LA is not like San Ramon.” I mouthed as I retreated to my bathroom. Synching my hair back tight in the elastic, I started the water and washed my face. Switching schools senior year felt like torture. I’d had thought Mother would have learned from the debacle of my eighth-grade year, but hadn’t been so lucky. Patting my face dry, I applied my make up making sure to swipe my eyelids with the mandatory plum shadow.
Brushing my hair out, I parted it on the side and braided the front portion, weaving the red ribbon through the design. They could dictate what I wore but not how I incorporated it. Pulling on my pants and shirt, I stood in front of the mirror to check my look. Lifting my phone, I snapped an image and sent it to Kylee. I gathered my shoes and backpack and headed towards the kitchen.