Hey, guys! This is my second novel I have ever written. I hope you enjoy and give me some feedback. The next chapter will be uploaded when I get some feedback on what you guys think. Don't worry, Chapter 8 for Gone Disappearing will be uploaded soon I've just been busy with this. Enjoy and COMMENT!!
Ever since I was born, I’ve had a way with water. I don’t know how to explain it, honestly. My dad used to say I was a mermaid whose tail hadn’t grown in yet. That was before he disappeared when I was seven and before my mom decided she had to move on, which meant marrying my new stepdad, Robert.
I’ve never been on a swim team before, even though the coaches have begged me. My best friend, Minnie, was on the swim team in eighth grade, two years ago. She said the coaches ignored pretty much everybody except their star players and favorites. I’m sure I would definitely fall into the star player area, (I don’t mean to brag or anything but that’s the honest truth), and that’s just too much pressure and publicity for me. It’s so much better when it’s just me and my special swimming cove by the lake.
I don’t know what draws me to the water exactly, but whatever it is, is powerful. The minute I see a place to swim, it’s like all I can think about is jumping in and feeling the cool water around me. It’s not a choice, it’s my natural instinct.
I didn’t think much of my love for swimming because everybody is passionate about something, right? That was, until he came around and the reality I had once known collided with something dangerous, amazing and dark. Something that lay deep below the surface.
Chapter 1: Seth Tucker
“Hollace Scott!” Mr. Rosenberg barked, “Would you like to give me an acceptable reason to why you are ignoring my class instruction?” Every head turned toward me and Minnie Larson, my best friend.
Minnie was frozen in place, being the shy kind of girl who hated it when teachers drew attention to her. It was up to me to bail us out of this one. Most teachers would have just ignored our whisper fest, but definitely not Mr. Rosenberg. He was the type of teacher with pencil-straight posture and grammar straight from the textbooks even if he was just a History teacher.
I was tempted to come back with some sassy remark as I often did to teachers, but decided against it. It’s not like Mr. Rosenberg would learn his lesson. He kept his detention slips closer and dearer to him then he kept his understanding and logical side.
“Sorry, Mr. Rosenberg,” I said quietly, “I was listening though.” The minute the last words came out of my mouth, I knew this was a mistake. Mr. Rosenberg loved to humiliate talkative kids like me.
“Oh, really?” Mr. Rosenberg raised his eyebrow, “Then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind reminding the rest of the sleepy class what I just reminded them about my history lesson?” Most everybody was waiting for me to tell Mr. Rosenberg off, waiting for something juicy to tell their friends later on. Even the suck-ups looked mildly interested in this conflict.
“I don’t mind at all!” I replied, laying the sarcasm on a little too thick, “Class, Mr. Rosenberg was just reminding us that he had to leave early in seventh period to run out for some snore-strips from the drug store. He said he snores louder than a chainsaw.”
The class erupted in giggles and hoots of laughter. Mr. Rosenberg turned pinker than the detention slip he was suddenly pulling out. I regretted having to go to detention after school, but it was worth it. I could hear Minnie cracking up, her shy side disappearing like magic.
“Ms. Scott! I’m disappointed, but not surprised. You have earned yourself—”
Suddenly, the door creaked open and my evil teacher stopped midsentence. A gorgeous boy entered the classroom and we all fell silent. With his backpack slung over his tan and medium-built arms, he attracted the attention of everybody in the class. The girls gripped their lip gloss and the boys watched their girlfriends like hawks.
He had midnight black hair that was slightly curly and messy and was cut at the middle of his ears. His green eyes captured you in their stare as he glanced at everyone.
Now, I like to think that I’m a pretty down-to-earth girl. When a guy I like says hi to me, I don’t twist and manipulate it until I see the light that he may like me. That’s just not who I am. But, I swear, when this guy looked at me, his eyes lingered on me longer than he had with any of the other girls. It was like he was…looking for me.
Mr. Rosenberg conducted himself, “And who might you be, young man?”
The kid looked a little nervous, “I’m new here, sir. My name is Seth Tucker.”
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