Sunday, January 28, 2018

Excerpt time!

Have you read my contemporary young adult romance, The Art of Being Indifferent?



Check out this excerpt to see if it piques your interest:

“My time is important to, you know.” Posey opened the Lit book in front of her, and she flipped through the pages to a section of The Taming of the Shrew.
Ironic? I thought so.
“I have no doubt of that,” I said, snickering. I tried to cover my laughter up with a cough, but failed miserably. “I’m sure your social calendar is full night and day.” I made air quotes to accentuate my words, and heard Posey suck in a sharp breath.
“Your sarcasm is wasted on me,” she snapped.
I looked at her and smiled lazily. I’d won over many a teacher with that smile, and more than a handful of sophomore and junior girls. “Doubtful.”
“Ugh.” She flipped another page, tearing it on the corner. “You make me sick.”
“Do I, Emo Girl?” Plucking her pencil off of the table, I started twirling it on my knuckles, a skill I’d perfected while daydreaming my way through Kingston’s class last quarter. “I think you like it when I’m a dickhead. It feeds to your dark, depressed side. I know your type.” I raised my voice to a high-pitched squeal. “I hate my life. I hate the world. Death is the only adventure. Am I right?”
Posey ducked her head again. I could see the red of her cheeks through the strands of black hair. “You are such an asshole,” she hissed down at her book. “You don’t even try to hide it. I can’t believe people like you or that you even have friends.”
I smirked. “Whatever. You wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
“You think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you?” Her head popped up and she glared right at me. “You think you’re so great.”
Well, color me surprised. She had a whole face. And it wasn’t half bad, either. Heart shaped face, super white skin, red lips without any of that gloss crap on them, and those arctic blue eyes that looked like they could kill me. If she pulled that mess of hair out of her face once in a while, and maybe smiled a bit, she might actually be… pretty?
Shuddering, I dropped the pencil. What the hell was wrong with me? Posey was ugly, and rude, and combative, and socially… just wrong.
“I know I’ve got it figured out.” The librarian passed our table, pressing her finger to her lips, so I dropped my voice even lower. “And I know I’m great.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears, and leaned closer to me. “If you’re so great, then why are you here? Why do you need some insignificant peon like me to tutor you? Why would you lower yourself to sit at the same table as me, or even be seen with me? If you’ve got it all figured out, why didn’t you just drop your last name with Mr. Kingston to get your sorry butt out of trouble? Why didn’t you just have your dad call the school to get you an A in Lit? We all know he could do it.”
My smile dropped. “You don’t know my dad.”
She sneered. “I’ve been in this hell hole town for long enough to know your dad’s got his thumb on everyone. I’m sure Mr. Kingston’s no exception.”
I looked out the library window. “Don’t you have some Shakespeare to talk about? You’re wasting my time.”
“No, Drew,” she spat. “You’re wasting my time. I can’t stand people like you. Or people like your dad, for that matter.”
My molars ground together. This was probably the most I’d ever heard Posey speak, and I wasn’t prepared for her to be so perceptive. She always seemed so disconnected. So sullen and pissy. I didn’t think she cared about anything going on around her, much less give a damn what was going on around this town.

Embarrassment washed over me, and I fought the urge to sink down in my chair. I hated the fact that my dad ran this town like his own personal game of chess. I hated the fact that when people heard his name, they either shit their pants out of fear, or fell all over themselves to accommodate him because he was some sort of small town superstar. He didn’t deserve either. He was a bully with a platinum card.