Revolution (56 page)

Holding her hands up in a surrender gesture Rachel nodded, her eyes wide. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called him that.”

Ari shook her head, sighing heavily. “Whatever. Let’s just get you back to the cafeteria before A.J. eats whatever you left on your tray.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “My Snickers!”

Ari gave a bark of annoyed laughter, watching Rachel lope up the stone stairs two at a time. Watching her friend, who knew herself inside out, Ari wished she was more like Rachel… or t
hat she had more time at least;
time to
 
discover who she was supposed to be.

For once, Ari
was glad to step into the airy house she called home, waving behind her to Rachel who was driving her back and forth to school while her car was in the garage getting fixed. She shut the door, dropping her bag and pulling off the light summer jacket she had needed when clouds had rolled in over the Ridge out of nowhere after lunch. She hung it up on the coat pegs, using the label to loop it securely to the peg. When it slid up and off, falling to the ground, Ari groaned and bent down to pick it up. She secured it again and headed off towards the kitchen only to hear the pinging of the metal b
uttons hitting the wooden floor
. Exhaling heavily, she spun back on her heel and picked it back up, jamming the jacket down on the peg.

Her poltergeist was such a pain in the ass.

“I’m not in the mood, Ms. Maggie!” she called out, scanning the hall.
 

Two years ago, sometime after her 16
^th
actually, a poltergeist took up residence in her house. When she tried to tell her dad about furniture being moved, an invisible person using her laptop, books taken down from the shelf and left around and open, he’d told her to stop being childish. For the last four or five years he’d been gone a lot, traveling the country and wining and dining doctors and hospital execs as a pharmaceutical sales rep. Her dad was good at his job and she never wanted for anything - except maybe for more time with him.
 
Anyway, her theory about the poltergeist didn’t really hit home until they got into an argument one day a year and a half ago. He’d raised his voice at her because she made the mistake of whining about him being gone so much and a book flew off one of the shelves and cracked him across the head. He hadn’t imagined it and was now sufficiently freaked out by their house. Ari, on the other hand, had stopped whining at her dad in the hopes that that would make him want to be home more, and had gotten used to the company of the poltergeist. She was pretty sure the poltergeist was a woman because she seemed to take offence to sexist, anti-feminist jokes and had a considerate nature Ari had only encountered in girls. Sure she was mischievous, like with the whole jacket
thing, but once Ari told her to stop doing something she would. Ari had named her Ms. Maggie after the dog her dad had bought when she was eight and then promptly gotten rid of when he realized how much work was involved for him.

Ari breathed a sigh of relief when the jacket stayed in place. “Thanks, Ms. Maggie. I appreciate it. It’s been a rough day.” She wandered out of the cold hallway into the even colder, empty kitchen. Their house seemed to lack the cozy warmth of her friends’ houses. She didn’t know if that was to do with the minimalist furniture or the lack of any
actual
family living in it. There could have been a family. But Ari had ruined that for her dad.

All of her life
Ari had lived with the knowledge that her mother, some mysterious woman named Sala, had broken her father’s heart after a passionate and brief affair before returning nine months later with a baby she said was his. She’d left Ari with him and disappeared, never to be seen again. Her father had done the best he could, Ari knew that. And she knew that he loved her more than anything. He had tried. He’d read to her every night before bed, he’d taught her to swim, to play baseball, to throw a punch without breaking her thumb, but as she’d gotten older they had grown apart. Over the years there had only been a few girlfriends, for which Ari was grateful.
Unlike other kids with no moms Ari hadn’t wanted one. To her
a mom was this creature who had stolen her daddy’s heart and ripped it out, leaving them both in the cold, lost and alone. So when Derek had started getting serious with this one woman when Ari was ten, she’d started to panic. If her father married this woman, she’d be Ari’s mom. What if she left too? She’d just break their hearts
as well. And to be truthful
Ari didn’t want to share her dad with anyone. The lie she’d told that
had
broken up the relationship still ate at her conscience eight years later. In a moment of pure childish stupidity, with no real clue to the consequences of her actions, Ari had lied and told her dad that his girlfriend (Michelle) had slapped her when Ari
had told her she didn’t want
her to be her mom.
 
Derek was furious. He believed his daughter over his four month old relationship and had swiftly ended things. There hadn’t been anyone serious since. Ari blanched every time she thought about it. Her dad would so kill her if he knew the truth. Poor Michelle.

The upbeat melody of Sick Muse by
Metric
rang out from the pocket of Ari’s jeans and she jumped, startled in the quiet of the house. Jerking her cell out, she smiled softly at the caller ID and pressed the answer call button. “Dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” his warm, deep voice reminded her of Christmas Day on the couch watching
Home Alone
and eating chocolates for breakfast. “How’s things?”

“OK. Graduation in a couple of days,” she reminded him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he replied wearily. “I’ve asked Rachel’s mom to take care of you and to take lots of pictures of you in your cap and gown. I’m so sorry I can’t be there. You know I would if I coul
d but I can’t miss this meeting. I
t could be my biggest sale this year.”

She nodded, feeling a little numb
at the distance between them
. “I know. Don’t worry about it, Dad. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. That’s why I want you to take the emergency credit card and buy whatever you need for your birthday party, OK?”

“Thanks, that’s great.”

“I’ve also got a fantastic birthday present for you. I’ll be home in three weeks. I can’t wait to see your face when you open it.”

She smiled. Admittedly, her dad always bought her the most thoughtful presents. “I hope you didn’t do anything extravagant.”

Derek laughed. “It’s your 18
^th
, of course I did. I love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Their conversation was
short and sweet, like always, and Ari spent the rest of the evening cooking pasta, watching cartoons, worrying about Charlie, and stalking his
Facebook
and
Twitter
accounts to see if there was any recent activity. There never was. She talked to Rache and Staci for a while on
Skype
and then slid back from her desk, falling, emotionally exhausted, onto her king-sized bed.

“Ms. Maggie… can you hit the lights?” Two seconds later the click of the switch echoed around the room and the bedroom was plunged into darkness. “Thanks, you’re a doll.”

Two minutes later a flash of light across her closed lids broke her fall into sleep and she groaned, prying her eyes open to see her laptop had been turned on, the glow of the screen flicking across her walls as it changed from a
Facebook
account to
Twitter
.

“Ms. Maggie,” Ari groaned, flopping back against her pillows. “Can you Tweet in the morning. Please…”

The chair at her desk squeaked and the laptop went dark.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “Today was already depressing enough without the reminder that my poltergeist has more followers on
Twitter
than I do.”

(end of excerpt)

Continue Reading Smokeless Fire on
amazon US
and
amazon UK

About Samantha Young

After graduating from the University of Edinburgh with a degree in ancient and medieval history Samantha
Young
returned to her main passion, writing. She often incorporates history and mythology into her novels.

Samantha's first release, The Tale of Lunarmorte trilogy, was followed by a second series titled Warriors of Ankh. At present she is a full-time writer working on a number of projects for near future release. Smokeless Fi
re is book one in her YA urban fantasy
romance series about Jinn.

For more info on the author and her novels visit Samantha Youn
g's official blog at http://www.samanthayoungbooks.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please enjoy an excerpt from Rachel Higginson’s new
est
book Starbright, coming September 2012.

Chapter One

             
The night had never been darker, the blackness surrounding the car, never so suffocating. Even the piles of snow pushed to the sides of the narrow road, did nothing to break up the oppressive darkness. The stars above, shone brightly, I was sure of it, but they did so from behind a curtain of clouds that blocked the light from reaching the road. I felt swallowed up by emptiness.

             
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles stretching until they gleamed white in the glow of the dashboard and my frozen fingers worked numbly against the cold plastic. The headlights of my old Jeep reached only a few feet in front of me and then stopped abruptly against a wall of darkness. I shivered violently, nestling my chin further into the down of my heavy winter coat and cursed the Nebraska winter for being equally as cold as it was desolate.

             
The farmland rolled away from the winding road, buried beneath several feet of iced over snow in every direction. Trees, planted for the privacy of farmers, lined the way home with empty branches and snowcapped tops. My breath puffed out in front of me, fogging up the frozen windshield and reminding me that the heater to my fifteen year old Jeep Cherokee remained unfixed.

             
“Tristan!” I growled furiously into the frigid air. “Why I let you talk me into another movie I will never know!”

             
There was no one there to hear my complaints, or sympathize with me against my best friend, but it felt comforting to make noise in an empty antique without a radio. Still, receiving not even a groan of empathy from the Jeep, I sat forward and peered into the impossible night ahead of me.