Read BlackMoon Beginnings Online
Authors: Kaitlyn Hoyt
Tags: #paranormal romance, #paranormal, #magic, #prophecy, #mages
BlackMoon Beginnings
By Kaitlyn Hoyt
Copyright 2013 Kaitlyn Hoyt
Smashwords Edition
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This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names,
places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination.
The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to
reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the
author herself.
All Rights Reserved
For my family and friends for all their support and
encouragement. To my mom and sisters for loving my book and pushing
me to publish it and a special shout out to my best friend for
reading it over and over again and threatening me during my
freaking out moments. It means a lot!
Table of
Contents
School. That place where we are forced to go
five out of seven days a week. It’s a place of ‘learning,’ as so
many call it, yet I can’t wrap my head around it. I know it is
necessary if we want to go out into the world and have successful
careers, but are they really preparing us for anything? Will I take
anything I actually learn in school and apply it anywhere else?
Will I ever need to know how to find the derivative using the chain
rule? Will I ever need to calculate enthalpy changes or annotate an
English paper? School is my purgatory right now and all I want is
to be set free.
“Ryanne Arden,” Mrs. Applegate calls off.
“Here.” It is the Friday before the last week
of school and while most teachers slowly start tapering off their
agendas, Mrs. Applegate teaches until the last minute, trying to
cram everything into the end of the year schedule. I’d gotten the
infectious senioritis disease way before it was acceptable to have
it. I’ve already progressed past any curable stage. I, Ryanne
Arden, have stage four senioritis and there is nothing anyone can
do about it.
After hearing my name, I open my notebook and
begin doodling. I used to be such a good student. I used to strive
for perfection in my schoolwork. I was that over-achiever that
everyone hated. “She’s such a hardworking and diligent student,” my
teachers used to say. They wouldn’t say that anymore.
Getting lost in the drawing and adding
details to make it perfect, I lose track of time. It’s not like I
pay attention in school anymore anyways. Drawing is the only thing
that I’ve been able to do recently that gives me any sort of
satisfaction. Art is one of the few ways I can express myself
without judgment, because no one besides me ever sees it.
Someone on the other side of the classroom
drops a book onto the hard linoleum floor. The sound echoes through
the classroom, jolting me back into awareness. Looking up at the
clock, I am surprised at the time: 3:25 p.m. Only five minutes left
of class. I hadn’t listened to a single word that Mrs. Applegate
said during the duration of this block. I couldn’t; I can’t
concentrate on school anymore.
It’s almost over. I only have to survive a
week. One more week of high school and then I am out of this small
town; out of the little town of Stormfield, Maine and onto bigger
and better things. Well, that is what all my teachers said: “You
all have big and bright futures ahead of you.”
The thing is, I have no idea what I want to
do after school. I don’t have a plan like everyone else. Yes, I
have applied to some colleges, but I don’t know where or if I even
want go to any of them. I just know that I want out of this old
school and out of this town. There are too many people here who
know my story. There are too many memories and I just need to get
away from it all.
I look down at my drawing and see a picture
of model home. It is massive with its large stone exterior set in
the woods. I want to live somewhere like that—away from everyone
else, but close enough to others that I don’t feel so alone. Being
alone in a sea of people is one of the worst feelings in the world.
Though, my ideal home would be a little smaller.
I tear my eyes away from the paper and glance
out the window. The sun is shining brightly today. The light
illuminates everything. Reflecting off of car windows and mirrors,
it’s difficult to look for too long.
“This weekend, you should all finish reading
The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe
. Your test is on
Monday. This is an easy read. For those of you who haven’t started
it yet,” Mrs. Applegate stops talking and stares straight at me, “I
would recommend reading it this weekend.” The bell rings signifying
the end of the school day. “Class dismissed.”
Gathering up my notebook and pen, I grab my
bag from the floor, fling it over my shoulders, and head towards
the door. “Ryanne, can I talk to you for a minute at my desk?”
I stop walking and look at the door. It’s so
close. I could make it. Two steps and I would be out of the
classroom. My conscience gets the best of me. With a sigh, I turn
around and face my teacher, plastering on a small fake smile.
Mrs. Applegate is sitting at her old wooden
desk. Her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun at the base of
her neck. With her reading glasses on, she squints down at the
paper she has in front of her. Slowly, I walk up to the front of
her desk and stop a foot away, waiting for her to finish. After
putting the paper down, she takes off her glasses and looks at
me.
“Do you know what your grade in this class
is?” She pauses, waiting for me to reply. When I remain silent, she
continues, “You are failing my class, Ryanne. I understand that you
are going through a tough time. I’ve been lenient. However, this
class is necessary to graduate. If you want to walk on Friday with
everyone in your class, you must pass the test on Monday and the
Final on Wednesday. I know you have not started reading this book
yet, so I would suggest you go out and buy it tonight. Your grade
depends on it.”
I nod, but remain quiet. I understand what
she is saying. I don’t think I can take another year at this
school. “Is that all, Mrs. Applegate?”
She looks up and stares at me for a couple of
seconds. I recognize the look in her eyes. All adults who know what
happened give me
that
look. With a disappointed sigh, she
replies, “Yes, you may go.”
Turning around, I walk out of the classroom
and towards the entrance of the school. I don’t even bother to go
to my locker. I won’t do any of my other homework anyways. Throwing
the door open, I’m prepared to be blinded by light, but it’s not
sunny anymore. The sky is a light shade of grey with gloomy clouds
completely blocking the sun.
Walking down the few stairs in front of the
school, I walk past everyone making plans for the weekend and
saying goodbye to their friends. I exit the parking lot and turn
right to head towards Jane’s home. Jane is my legal guardian. She
took me in when I had nowhere to go. She’s in her mid-thirties, but
looks years younger than that. She’s gorgeous. Standing tall, she’s
just short of six feet. With short pixie-like hair, she almost
looks ethereal. However, she’s a workaholic—working six out of the
seven days in a week. When she comes home from work, she continues
to do work. Because of that, she’s seeing someone from her job. I’m
often home alone during the days. Even when she’s here, it’s like
I’m alone. I don’t mind though. I prefer the solitude.
As I turn the corner towards the house, I
notice her new blue Ford Focus in the driveway. That’s odd. Jane’s
never home at this time. The wind begins to pick up as I walk up
the driveway. With anticipation building, I unlock the front door
and walk inside. Jane is standing in the kitchen, making dinner,
which is something that she also never does. I usually have to fend
for myself after school, which means a peanut butter and jelly
sandwich for dinner. I can’t cook to save my life. I burn toast all
the time. I don’t trust myself with any other kitchen appliance
that could, in some way, cause damage to a home or inflict harm on
those around me.
“Hey Jane, what’s up?” I ask while taking off
my green converse shoes. Jane does allow anyone to walk on the
carpet with shoes on. The white carpet has to remain in pristine
condition.
She stops cooking and turns around. Ignoring
my question, she replies, “Go put your books in your room. We need
to talk.” Turning her back to me, she continues with dinner.
What could that be about? I walk up the
stairs and into my boring bedroom, sighing as I look around. I
hadn’t bothered to decorate much since I’ve been here. I knew that
I wouldn’t be able to stay too long. My eighteenth birthday was a
couple days ago and I am no longer in need of a legal guardian.
When school is over, I’d probably be kicked out and sent off on my
own.
Brushing away the negative thoughts, I turn
towards the computer in the corner of the room and turn it on.
As the computer slowly wakes up, I move to
the other side of the room and look out the window. The sky has
gotten darker since I’ve come home and large raindrops are
beginning to fall. The clouds open up further releasing their
sadness onto the Earth below. The sound of water resonates off the
roof, while droplets stick to the window, creating a blurry
illusion of the outside world. Pushing myself up from my window
seat, I walk over to my bed and sit down, waiting for Jane to call
me down.
“Ryanne, it’s time for dinner,” Jane yells up
the bottom of the stairs.
At the dinner table, I begin to stir my peas
around the plate. I never eat them. I hate peas. They’re the
devil’s tasteless vegetable. But, I don’t want her to think that I
don’t appreciate the meal, so I pretend to eat them.
“How’s school?” Jane asks.
“It’s fine,” I hesitantly reply.
“I got a call from your teacher this morning,
Mrs. Applegate. Do you have anything to tell me?”
“Umm…nope. I don’t think so.”
She looks at me for a few moments, waiting. I
know what she wants me to say, but I don’t. “You’re failing
English, Ryanne.” Her voice starts to rise, slowly inching more
towards a yell. “You need to pass that class to graduate! She said
that you have a test on Monday over
The Lion, The Witch, and The
Wardrobe
. Have you read it?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, when do you plan on reading it?”
“Well…after I buy it.”
“You haven’t even bought the book yet?!” She
stares at me, probably trying to determine if I am joking or not.
“After dinner, you will go to bookstore and buy it. I don’t want to
hear any excuses. I understand that after your mother died, you
needed some time. But it has been over a year, Ryanne. You have to
start living again. She would want you to graduate. I can’t let you
throw your life away like this.” Jane never mentions my mother
unless she is very upset with me, because she knows how much it
hurts me to think about her.
“Fine, I’ll go. But I don’t really have much
of a chance of passing the class this late in the game.”
“But, you can at least try.”
Try.
I’m not even sure I understand
the definition of that word anymore. I stop pushing my peas around
my plate and look up at her. Her face is full disappointment, but
also full of faith in me. I know that I can’t let her down. Right
now, she is all I have.