Turkey Day

Today we have a special piece by a young adult author, Beth Kanell. She wrote The Darkness Under Water, which came out a couple of weeks ago. You can find out more about her and her book on her blog or website.

So here is the flash fiction piece Turkey Day by Beth Kanell:

Turkey Day

Stephanie pressed her hot forehead against the window pane, so the November chill might ease her headache. She closed her eyes and pictured Ben, tramping through the woods the way he used to with his father, a gun on his shoulder. Rifle? Shotgun? She couldn't remember, and she didn't much care. Hunting was Ben's sport, and she meant to be supportive of his enthusiasm. But she'd rather he was here in town, with or without the pheasant he hoped to shoot.

After a few minutes, she pulled back from the window. Three o'clock: Hunting would have to end at dusk. She'd better take some aspirin and go downstairs to cut the brownies into neat squares, to take to Ben's family's house tomorrow. Wrap them and put them out of sight, she reminded herself: Otherwise her college-age brothers, home for Thanksgiving, would consume them in a heartbeat. Hey, let them stick to the pies.

With two aspirin and a decongestant floating in her uneasy stomach, Steph headed to the kitchen. Her mom was on the phone; the "men" were in the living room, glued to the football game. A three-way groan clued her in that the underdog team wasn't ahead any longer. Her brothers and her dad always picked the underdog team to cheer for. A smile twitched on Steph's lips, despite the headache. She was certain the same team had been the better one last fall, the one the guys all hated. It was all in your point of view, wasn't it?

As she came around the doorway into the kitchen, she heard her mother say "Hold on, Barb, I've got someone beeping in -- just a sec." Steph turned on the water gently, to wash her hands. Her mother's voice deepened and hushed. "I'll bring her over myself. Five minutes, we'll be right there." Steph whirled to ask what was going on, but her mother held up a hand for time, switched smoothly to the first phone call, and said, "Barb, sorry, gotta run. Catch you later."

Thumping the phone down on the table, Steph's mother reached out with both arms. "Ben needs you over at his house, grab your coat, come on!"

In the car, Steph tugged at her mother's arm. "What's happened? Is he hurt?" Visions of gunshot wounds, of broken ankles, of Ben being carried out of the woods on a stretcher made her voice rise. "Mom, tell me!"

Her mother shook off Steph's hand. "Let me drive. We'll be there in a minute. Don't worry so much, I'm sure he's okay. He's fine, Stephanie."

"Then why are we hurrying?"

"Because I've got to get back to the kitchen, or the gravy won't get done on its own." With a slide of gravel, the car wheeled into the Perkins's driveway. "Go on, run, I'll wait for you."

Steph raced toward the kitchen door, seeing blood on the ground outside and feeling crazed. "Ben? Ben?!"

He stood at the kitchen sink, both hands in the water, more blood on the floor near him. "Hey, Steph!" A grin split his face and he held up his hands, something dripping between them. "Look!"

She took in the wet feathers, the dangling head and neck, the red drips scattering on the kitchen surfaces. "Oh!" For a moment she staggered, caught herself on a chair, and repeated, "Oh! You shot a bird!"

"Not just any bird. It's a turkey! A wild one! See?"

His proud smile showed her he was totally clueless about what she'd thought. She gave him a quick grin, a loud "Congratulations!" and then, despite her best intentions, erupted, "But if you ever again say I've got to hurry to get here, when you've been doing something risky -- you are such a turkey yourself!"

Realization flooded his face. "Jeez, Steph, I didn't mean to scare you! It was awesome, getting a turkey, and I just wanted you to see it before it gets cooked. Hey, but Steph..." He slowed, hesitated, picked his words carefully, making sure nobody else could hear.

"You know the cabin up on the ridge, the one we always said was haunted? The one that's always locked up with the windows boarded and all?"

Recoil from her panic made her slow to catch what he was talking about, but Steph finally nodded. "Yeah?"

"I could swear it was still locked when I went past it on the way into the woods, and again when I came out, down the trail. But -- " he whispered to her, as she moved closer to hear him "but Steph, there's was a whiff of smoke up there. I think it might be where Penny and Elaine have been hiding."

Oh, no. They shared a long look. Steph thought: Now that we know where they might be, we have to do something, don't we?

She reached for the sponge from the back of the sink and wiped at the blood spatters. "Ben, are you sure?" He nodded, and she leaned against the granite countertop, heedless of the water still on it. "Then," she voiced their joint conclusion, "we're going to have to go up there tonight, aren't we?"

Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks again to Beth Kanell for sending it to us to post!

-The YAthenaeum Team

The Rain People

Today we have a special piece by a young adult author, Crissa-Jean Chappell, who wrote the book Total Constant Order. You can visit her on her website: Crissa-Jean Chappell.

So, without further ado, here's a short story from her current work-in-progress:

The Rain People

“I always get freaked out walking through Wynwood at night,” Morgan tells me. She clops along in her wooden flip-flops and huddles under my umbrella. “Do you ever get freaked out, Aaron?”
“Sometimes,” I say.
Skully takes the lead, waving a glowstick like a baton. “I bet it’s the next block,” she says, as a Honda speeds past us, throbbing with bass. Words thread the air—a techno remix of a 1980s pop ballad.
“I don’t want to lose your love…tonight.”
At the party house, we push through the crowd of people on the lawn. By this time, the rain has slowed to a drizzle. A couple dudes are blowing up soda bottles in the backyard. They roll sheets of tinfoil into ribbons and cram them into plastic liters of Coke.
“What’s that blue stuff they’re dumping in it?” Morgan asks me.
“The Works,” I say.
“What?”
“Toilet cleaner.”
Skully grabs one of the steaming bottles, pops on the cap, and shakes it. She laughs and tosses it into the air.
“Run,” she screams.
We run.
The explosion rattles my teeth.
“That was intense,” Morgan says, covering her ears. “Let’s go. Skully is majorly getting on my nerves.”
She leads me to a metal staircase that slopes toward the roof. A few people have already climbed up there. A girl rushes past us, sobbing into her cell phone.
“The least you could do is call a cab,” she says with a sniffle.
Morgan plods across the roof. “There’s a soft spot. Be careful,” she says, tripping a little. She tugs me closer. It’s starting to pour again. Cold needles of rain. Now we’re stuck, peering down at the scattering crowd.
I catch sight of someone walking alone, smoking a cigarette. He watches me watching him. He looks up and for a second, it’s as if we know each other. That’s when I realize: It’s not me he’s watching.
“You know that dude?” I ask Morgan.
She shrugs. “The guy with the dirty mustache?” She tries to force a laugh, but it sounds fake as hell. “Not anymore,” she says. “I mean, can you ever really know someone?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess so?” she says, grabbing my hand. She squeezes it hard. “You don’t know so?”
“I already told you.”
“Liar,” she says.
The bottle rockets boom-hiss in slow motion, spewing melted hunks of plastic in the grass. In the morning, there will be flecks of tinfoil glinting in the sun, ultra blue puddles on the sidewalk. There will be more questions, but I don’t have the guts to ask.

Wasn't it great? Not only were we given that amazing scene to post, but Crissa was also kind enough to include one of her drawings of one of the characters:

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks again to Crissa-Jean Chappell for sending them to us to post!

In other YA news, the Paolini event was awesome; there will be more on that to come as well as other special posts in the near future.

-The YAthenaeum Team

YAthenaeum's Arrived!

It’s finally here!
The blog we’ve all been waiting for!
What? You weren’t aware that this blog was in the works?
(Those of you just coming out of comas are excused.)
Well, crawl out from under the rock where you’ve been hiding and be introduced to:

YAthenaeum (pronounced: yeah-then-ay-um)

1. Impossible to Pronounce.
   
2. Delightful to Read.
   
3. It’s your one-stop-shop for all things YA.
   

An athenaeum (in case you don’t know) is a place that promotes literacy and reading, and that’s just what we’re hoping to do for the young adult readers of the world. We’ll have author interviews, signing recaps, flash fiction pieces by REAL authors, book reviews, galley giveaways, and much much more.

How did this blog come to be, you might ask?
Once upon a time, there was a girl who liked to read. One day, as she was browsing the shelves of the coolest bookstore on the planet, she met an event coordinator. The girl asked the event coordinator for information on an up-coming author event. The girl got more than she bargained for.

The event coordinator invited the girl to plan the booksigning. The girl agreed, and then enlisted (*cough* forced) her sister and friends to help her.

This go-get-‘em gang proceeded to pull off a totally awesome event.

The event coordinator signed them up to help out with future awesome events and signings and to bring the wonderful world of Young Adult books to teens everywhere.

Which brings us to today.

We decided that there should be a website where YA book-lovers around the world can satisfy all their YA needs.

For our first few weeks we already have some awesome posts planned, including recaps of past events, an exclusive piece from a favorite YA author, and lots of other random things that pop into our heads.

We’d love to hear your comments, suggestions and recommendations. You can e-mail us anytime at yathenaeum@yahoo.com.

We hope that this blog helps to scratch your YA itch.

Welcome and enjoy the ride!

-Erika, Lorena, Emily, Julie, Brigitte