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Authors: Sarah Schofield

Solo

Solo

 

by

 

Sarah Schofield

 

Published by:

 

M.O.I.
Publishing

"Mirrors of Imagination"

 

Copyright © 2011 by Sarah Schofield

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. And any resemblance to actual person, living, dead (or in any other form), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

Cover Artist:  Jerrad Oakes and Sarah Schofield

 

For information contact:

 

[email protected]

 

www.SarahSchofieldBooks.com

 

 

Acknowledgements

 

I would like to thank Aaron, Mom, Dad, Jerrad, Tara, Kris S., and my family for your support from day one. It has been a long journey and I couldn't have done this without your constant encouragement. Mykaylynn, thanks for helping me decide on an important part of the book. Lastly, but definitely not least, to my editor and dear friend Verna Clay, you have helped sharpen this novel into something I’m extremely proud of. Oh, one more thing, thanks to all of you for sharing the giggles.

Author's Note

 

Myrtle Creek is a real town located near Medford, Oregon. I chose Myrtle Creek because of its small town charm and pristine beauty. What better place for a teenage girl to learn the value of friendship and experience young love. In writing Eliana's story, it was necessary to take certain liberties in describing the town and surrounding locations.

 

Prologue

 

My parents called a family meeting and I couldn't think of a good reason why. Maybe my coming home thirty minutes past curfew the night before had something to do with it, except I'd had a legitimate reason, which I'd already explained—one of my friends had taken forever changing a tire on my new car, and the donut was proof.

My parents sat in recliners opposite me. They didn't look mad; more like worried. Dad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, I recognized the look—pity. My first thought was that someone had died.

"Honey, I'm deploying overseas in a few weeks and I'll be gone for a year."

My mouth dropped and pain shot through my heart. My eyes stung. I was sixteen and I couldn't remember my dad being away for more than a month for field training, or some other military obligation. We always moved as a family. I looked at my mom staring at the floor. The lump in my throat forced a choppy response. "It'll be okay, Mom. I'll be here with you." I looked at Dad and tried to focus on just one of the many questions racing through my mind. My thoughts wouldn't come together. Finally, I collected one. "How long have you known about this?"

"Only a week or so. We knew it was a possibility, but your mom and I decided not to tell you, just in case nothing came of it."

Mom looked up with tears, and muttered, "There's more news, honey."

I looked at her dumbfounded. What could possibly be worse than my dad leaving us for a year?

Mom glanced at Dad. He nodded, encouraging her to continue. My heart practically thumped out of my chest.
Please don't say divorce or separation.
My hands started to sweat and I clenched them between my knees, waiting for her to speak.

"Your dad and I have thought about this long and hard." She paused. "We both feel it would be best if you and I move in with my parents while he's gone. The plans are already in motion and we'll be leaving in a month."

I froze, going completely numb. Nothing had prepared me for this; her words echoed, hollow and lifeless. I stood and robotically walked to the bookshelf. Grabbing the 'M' volume of an encyclopedia, I whacked myself on the head. It only hurt and made me dizzy. I couldn't believe I wasn't waking up.
Was this for real?
Dad was leaving us for a year and my parents were making me move before the end of school. I rubbed my head and turned back to see their shocked expressions.

"Eliana, please, honey, say something," Dad pleaded.

Shaking my head, I croaked, "Why can't we just stay here for the year? Why are you ripping me out of school with only a few months to go? Did you even take my feelings into consideration when you made this decision?"

Mom sobbed, "Eliana, it's going to be a long year and I'd like the extra support I'll receive from my parents. I know it'll be hard at first, but I think you'll be happy in Oregon."

My blood started to boil. Before I knew it, I was yelling. "For sixteen years I've never once complained about being uprooted! I've never complained about not having a home of my own—about always living in housing provided by the military! This is the first place I've ever felt at home. I truly love California!"

I wasn't sure if it was a mild concussion, or if I'd just exhausted myself from anger and pain, but the room started to spin and I covered my face with my hands, weeping.

"Honey, it's only for a year. There's a chance your dad will get orders to come back here." Mom tried to give me a little slice of hope.

I shook my head before silently walking from the room.

 

Chapter One:
Change

 

Mom flipped the turn signal of the moving van and veered toward the exit. Following in my Volkswagen bug, I caught a glimpse of a small sign welcoming us to Myrtle Creek. I couldn't help but wonder where the town was when we rolled through the main strip. Other than a few scattered houses, a general store, a gas station, a couple of restaurants, and a bowling alley, the
town
—and I use that term loosely—was scarce. Where was the mall, the movie theater, the miniature golf course, the amusement park, the water park, and, more importantly, the beach?

Mom pumped the brakes, interrupting my slight panic attack. We veered onto a road leading in the direction of mountains. About ten minutes later, we turned into a driveway meandering to a white farmhouse.

My gramps and grandmother were sitting on the porch in decades old wicker chairs. My grandmother walked to the top of the steps and waited. Gramps, on the other hand, hurried down to meet us.

"Hi, Dad," Mom beamed.

"How was your trip, young lady?"

"It was great. Eliana did superb for driving her first road trip."

Gramps turned and opened his arms to me. "Come here, Munchkin. I've missed you."

I grinned and gave him a big hug. "Hi, Gramps; I've missed you, too." I inhaled peppermint, the familiar scent that always followed him. Memories of piggyback rides, sneaking cookies before dinner, and funny jokes surfaced. Mom always told me I'd inherited Gramps' sense of humor.

I looked past Gramps and saw my grandmother with her arms firmly crossed. She wasn't your typical grandma. You know, the kind with fresh baked pies sitting on the windowsill. My grandmother was… Well, she was more like a warden.

I slowly approached her.

"Hello, Eliana." She awkwardly gave me a half-pat-on-the-back kind of hug.

"Hi, Grandma; thanks for taking us in." I tried to chisel through the ice.

"You're welcome," she replied stiffly.

My mom walked up beside me. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, dear. I have your rooms ready. I put Eliana in your old bedroom. You're in the room across from hers, just in case."

I looked away and rolled my eyes. What did "just in case" mean? Was it "just in case" I got scared in the middle of the night like I was seven years old, or "just in case" I tried to sneak out like I was an unruly teenager? This was going to be a
long
year.

We each grabbed a bag and entered the house. I opened the door to my "so-called" bedroom and sucked in the aroma of rose potpourri and moth balls. My eyes rounded at the princess palace with its frilly pink walls bordered by purple castles and a dozen—that's right—twelve porcelain dolls staring at me from a wooden shelf. If anything could scare me, those beady eyes could. I stood there flabbergasted and Mom walked in.

"Honey, we'll fix it later. Just start unloading your car."

"You're sure lucky I love you," I whispered.

By the time we finished unloading, it was too late to return the van to the rental company, so we decided to wait until after I was enrolled in school the next morning. An uneasy feeling swirled in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't ready to start a new school. Mom must have sensed something because she told me she would give me another day to unpack.

After dinner, I started to organize my room, trying to make the princess palace feel more like me. First thing—turn all the dolls around so I wouldn't have to look at their creepy faces. Maybe my grandmother would get the hint and remove them. I tacked up a few of my favorite posters and hung the bulletin board my friends had made for me. It had tons of photos of us at school dances, trips to the beach, and other fun memories. Looking at the photos reminded me to text my friends later. I didn't feel like I had accomplished much unpacking when Mom came in.

"Honey, you should get some sleep."

"I will when I can see the bed."

I saw her glance at the dolls and do a double take, even though she pretended not to notice.

"Wh-at?" I asked.

"Nothing." She looked away and shook her head. An hour later, I crashed. The next thing I knew, Mom was nudging me. "Eliana, we've got to get the moving van back."

I stumbled into the hallway trying to remember where the bathroom was. I took a shower to wash off the previous day's funk and quickly dressed. I didn't want to mess with my untamed mane, so I pulled it through the back of my baseball cap, applied some lip gloss, and headed downstairs. I entered the kitchen. "I'm ready when you are."

"Okay, honey, we also need to stop at the market in Roseburg to get groceries."

"Sounds good; I could use some Pepto-Bismol. There are a few spots on my walls that need touch up."

My grandmother looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. She wasn't handling my sarcasm well.

"Where's Gramps?" I tried to change the subject.

"He reads the newspaper every morning in his favorite chair in the living room," replied my grandmother.

"Great! I'll run in to say good morning before we go."

Mom stepped in front of me. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. He reads the paper in his pajamas. And when I say pajamas, I mean boxers."

"Oh." My eyes widened. "Thanks for the warning."

Mental note: Don't talk to Gramps until after school.

Our first stop was South Umpqua High School so I could get registered. The school was smaller than I'd expected. I was relieved when the halls were clear. Other than a short stout woman behind the counter, the office was empty. The woman handed Mom a packet of papers and asked if I wanted a tour of the school. I started to decline, but Mom insisted. The secretary paged the library to get someone from study hall to give me a quick tour. A few minutes later a tall, brawny guy entered the office. He definitely looked like he played sports.

"Eliana, this is Samuel Alvarez. He'll show you around. Make it a quick tour, Sammy."

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