The Infinity

By Avon Forest

Fourteen-year-old author Avon Forest embarks on her writing career with her debut novelette, The Infinity.

Doe was a typical teenage girl. She had an eccentric biology teacher, she went to band practice after school, and she always wished her life wasn't so boring. But Doe ends up meeting a group of strangers that make her life anything but dull and monotonous. She is swept up in a chase across time, and suddenly her life is entwined with the very people she once called kidnappers. Throughout all this, Doe realizes that every human being is a mixture of good and bad, and that love is the one thing that glues time together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avon Forest
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301317127

Avon Forest

I am a writer who loves to give advice on how to make an essay or story a little bit more interesting. Please check out my debut novelette, The Infinity!

Book preview

The Infinity

By Avon Forest

© 2013 Avon Forest

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Introduction

So here it is: my first novel. Some time ago, I decided to write a book about a girl who was kidnapped by a group of time travelers who were running away from a madwoman who wanted to use their DNA to save the world.

It's crazy, I know.

But eventually my boring life blended into their story, and now I can barely remember my life before meeting them and getting to know them as the characters you will meet in this book. My life is tangled in theirs––it always was, I guess. And surprisingly, after writing about this group of crazy people, I learned a lot about myself. In fact, in very loose terms you could say that I found out who I really was.

I'm still kind of figuring things out––I can't tell you exactly what I'm figuring out. But if you really would like to know, I'll just tell you that I'm doing ok. Everything's ok.

When I got my book deal for this novel (the one that you're currently reading), they asked that I write it as though I was writing a young adult fiction novel. And I did. And here it is. But when I wrote this introduction, they told me to cut it out. And I said no. The only way an author can directly connect to her readers is through the author's note. And I wasn't going to let them take that away from me.

You see, this is my story. Well, this is more like our story.

And would you do me a favor, whoever you are, reading this book? Just keep one thing in mind.

I don't write fiction

Chapter 1

Mr. Boggs spins on the heel of his shoe and faces the class. It’s so tense, you can feel the electricity in the air. His shoe squeaks as he strides to the back of the classroom. I look behind me as he casts a shadow over Cristie’s desk, and sigh to myself. I feel sorry for Cristie, but I’m glad he’s not picking on me.

Do you know the answer, Cristie? he asks, his eyebrows raised so high that they hide behind his hair.

Cristie’s lips trembles. Umm…Jupiter? She bites her lip. I could tell she hadn’t been listening. I don’t know, she says quietly.

He smacks his hand on her desk. The sound is so loud I jump, and the kid next to me stares as I blush.

Listen better, Cristie, he says as he walks back to the front of the classroom and leans back on his desk.

Anyone, he asks, his eyes surveying the room, know the answer?

I raise my hand timidly. His eyes light up at the sight of a hand.

Yes, Doe?

Erm…Mars, right? My palms are sweaty and I scratch the back of my burning neck. I think I read it in an article about NASA, or something… I mutter.

Correct, he says quietly, interrupting me. He walks up to the chalkboard and writes ‘ANOTHER EARTH?’ in all caps.

If there ever comes a time when the Earth must die, there should be no need to worry, he starts to say, but the bell rings.

The whole class jumps up and streams out the door. I gather my books and head out too, but just as I’m out the doorway I trip over something and land on my hands and knees. My books tumble out of my arms and I rush to pick them up. I look down to see what I tripped over was a worn leather notebook, held tight with a metal clasp. A frayed red ribbon is sewn into the spine, one of those ribbons used to mark pages. A #2 pencil is shoved into a thin, long leather pocket stitched into the notebook. I pick it up and pull myself back to my feet.

It’s a very pretty notebook, and I have the strange feeling that it’s even more beautiful on the inside. I’m about to walk off with it before someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around to see a tall, blonde boy with bright blue eyes.

I blink. I’ve seen him before, somewhere.

It’s mine, he says, gesturing towards the notebook tucked under my arm.

I blush as I hand it back to him. How could I have been so self-centered as to walk off with somebody’s notebook?

Thank you, he says, turning away.

Wait! I call out.

He turns towards me. I have seen him before. Why can’t I recollect? I rub the back of my neck. Why do I still feel so embarrassed?

What? he asks impatiently. The way he says that word makes the air feel tense.

What—what’s in there? I say, pointing at the leather notebook.

Oh this? he says, grinning, shaking the notebook in his hand. This is the home of my deepest darkest secrets, he laughs as he disappears into the jam-packed school hallway.

Like a teenage boy could have any dark secrets.

I sigh as I merge into the crowd too, my books squeezed to my chest. Where have I seen him before? I laugh. I would smack myself if it didn’t mean dropping all my books. Of course! Maybe I just haven’t noticed him because he’s one of those kids that sits in the back of the class and never raises his hand. I realize that this is the first time I have met this person, but for some reason, he’s always been in the back of my mind. Who is he?

God, I hate Boggs’ class, I hear Cristie’s voice behind me. I turn around. She looks short of breath.

I called out to you, she says, panting. Did you not hear me?

No, sorry, I look away from her, my thoughts still lingering on that kid. We stop in front of my locker. I open it and stuff my books inside, then grab my bagged lunch.

I have a feeling that there is something special about that notebook.

Cristie squeezes my hand. Are you okay? You seem to be zoning out. I shake my head. Do I really look like that?

No, I’m fine, I say, pushing thoughts of the boy to the back of my head.

Chapter 2

I sit in the last row on the bus, my knees scrunched up against the back of the seat in front of me. I watch the trees fly by in a blur. Sometimes I wish that life would be more interesting than a typical school day with an afternoon band practice. Maybe I should do something crazy and see how it turns out.

The bus stops in front of my neighborhood and I get out alone. I’m the only kid from school who lives in this small neighborhood mostly full of retired couples and many ‘for sale’ homes. I—literally—live in the past. I lock the door behind me and head upstairs. The house feels so empty.

Claire gets back at four from her part-time job, and Tim gets back at six, just in time for dinner. Which means that I have about one hour all to myself. I sit down behind my desk in front of the window and start off on my homework, prepared to get it done. I look at the paper taped to the front of my desk and smile. It’s a list of what I, as a seven-year-old, believed were the steps to living a successful life. Write a book, do scientific research for a good cause, be part of the making of a blockbuster movie. I try to tell myself that those things may—will—never happen.

I must still be a seven-year-old at heart.

I finish my math homework and stare out the window at the clouds rolling by, on top of the world. I notice a blur of motion in the corner of my eye and see the same boy I saw this morning, walking with a bag of groceries. I don’t remember him getting on or off the bus… I frown. I had never noticed this kid before and now he shows up everywhere. I look at the clock on my desk. 3:57. Claire could be here any second now…

I shrug, shove my house keys and my cell phone into my pocket, and head out the door, just as the boy turns the corner. I run as silently as I can behind him until I’m just 15 feet away. I stay like that—15 feet behind—and follow him. I hope he doesn’t turn around, because right now, I have no place