First Came You (Fate #0.5)
Read First Came You (Fate #0.5) Online
Authors: Faith Andrews
First Came You by Faith Andrews
Copyright © 2015 by Faith Andrews
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles and lyrics contained in the book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
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To all those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.
We will never forget.
You know that moment?
The
moment? Yeah, that one. The one where something unexpected happens that will ultimately change the entire course of your life.
For some it’s a tragic event, an untimely mishap that puts things in perspective. For others, it’s a milestone, something semi-predictable that you planned and hoped for. But for a lucky few—like me in
my
moment—it’s a push.
The
push in the right direction.
That moment—that one instant—set into motion all the happiness and sadness and joy and misery that would take place over the rest of my lifetime.
That push made me the person I am today.
“I do so know how to play! I just can’t find my rock. Who stole it?”
Why do I even play with them? They’re so mean.
Sasha and her stupid older brother, Seth, make me want to cry every time we hang out. I never learn. I wish Gina would’ve let me go to the movies with her and her friends—
another meanie,
never wanting her baby sister tagging along. Out of pure boredom, I had no choice but to answer the doorbell when those kids from across the street came calling. And now, three games into the most competitive round of hopscotch ever played on these Brooklyn streets, the brat stole my rock because I’m winning!
“No one stole your stone, Gabriella. Maybe you should take care of your things, you lazy Lucy.” Sasha sticks out her tongue, taunting me. I often wonder why I’m friends with her. She’s almost always with her scrawny brother who gives me the heebee jeebees and she isn’t very nice. I remind myself that I’m with them only because my best friend Maria is away for the summer. I have no choice but to suck it up and get my rocks stolen, day in and day out, until she comes back from visiting her grandparents in Italy.
But today, I’ve got guts. I’ve had enough of being bullied by these two. It’s hot, I’m tired, and gosh darn it, I want my way for once! “Give me my rock! I want to finish this game so I can go home!”
“Sore loser, sore loser. You just want to forfeit the game because you can’t win!” It’s Seth’s turn to tease me. His beady eyes and the way they look at me make me want to cry.
“I am not a sore loser. If you’d just give me my rock; I could win, and the game would be over.” I should just walk away and not care what these two have to say about it, but I’m not a quitter and I don’t want them to see they’ve upset me. Then the teasing would
never
end.
Searching the sidewalk for anything I can use to finish up this game, I nearly drop to my knees, begging God for anything to toss across the chalk-drawn squares. It’s like all the rocks have suddenly gone into hiding, mocking me and forcing me to live out my hopscotch hell.
I close my eyes to pray for a miracle, and just when I’m about to give up and let Sasha and Seth call me all the names their tiny hearts’ desire, Tommy Edwards from two doors down appears in front of me with an outstretched hand.
“Here,” he says, the sun sparkling off whatever’s in his palm.
When I look closer, it’s a single, shiny nickel.
How silly.
I can’t use that. “Thanks, Tommy, but who plays hopscotch with a nickel?” It’s nice of him to try, even if it winds up meaning nothing.
Shaking his head, he gets closer. “You’re going to finish up this game with this nickel and shut those two up. And then you’re never going to play hopscotch or
anything
with either of them again.” His voice is a whisper meant for only me to hear, but the glare he’s giving Sasha and Seth should warn them that Tommy doesn’t like how they’ve been treating me.
Unable to control my emotions, I fling my hands to my hips, crying, “And what exactly am I supposed to do all summer? Twiddle my thumbs?” I’ll be bored out of my mind. I have no one else to play with.
Tommy surprises me when he leans down to tell me, “You’ll hang out with
me
if you have to, but you’re not going to let those two push you around anymore, got it?”
Got it?
All I got from what he just said was that he wanted to hang out with me! Tommy’s ten, I’m only eight—the difference of two years seems like a hundred when I think about it. Why the heck would
he
want to hang out with
me?
I’m nothing special and he has plenty of friends his own age.
But I don’t think about all that too long. Instead, I accept his gift in order to get this game rolling. I’d rather watch soap operas with Mommy over sweating in this sweltering heat with these two jerks.
Grabbing the nickel from Tommy’s large palm, I smile, hoping he understands how much I appreciate his kindness in this moment. No one besides my sister or parents have ever stuck up for me like this. It makes me feel good. And as I hold on tight to that nickel before spinning it in the air and rubbing my hopscotch victory in Sasha and Seth’s faces, I nod in Tommy’s direction and thank him.
He nods back, egging me on. I toss the coin as if an Olympic Gold Medal in hopscotch is at stake. The coin lands on the “home” square, tinging like music against the concrete. I pull my elbow into my chest, fisting an obnoxious “yes.” My gloating creates an ugly frown on Sasha’s pretty face and a canary-eating smile on Tommy’s lips. Seth stares at the ground with his hands on his hips—it beats me why on Earth a ten year old boy even cares about a girly game of hopscotch.
Stupid sissy!
