Silver and Stone, The Bloodlines Series

By J.D. Thompson

Welcome to high school high society hell.

As if senior year at Weatherford Preparatory School wasn’t hard enough, sixteen year old Alexis Bardolph had to add school outcast to the curriculum.

A new found notoriety following a family scandal, her lacrosse star boy-friend dumping her for a former BFF and a string of perpetually bad hair days were among the many things going wrong in her already turbulent teenage life.

But when the haunting nightmares that have plagued her since childhood begin to take an eerily tangible form and several Holler Creek residents are reported missing, Alexis can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to her hellish dreams than meets the eye.

The unexpected arrival of a mysterious and dangerously handsome new student ultimately leads Alexis to troubling truths that not even her wildest imagination could have conjured.

For The Love Of Reading review (by Niina) - August 29th 2011
"Thompson’s writing is a joy to read, in my opinion up there with the best YA I’ve read! Engaging, addictive, must-know-what-happens-next! "

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.D. Thompson
• Release date: Aug 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9780987717009

J.D. Thompson

J.D. Thompson is a YA and women’s fiction writer. She lives in a small town in the chilly northern peak of New-Brunswick with her family, an array tomato plants that annually fail to thrive and a growing number of incomplete knitting projects. Like Broken China is her third completed novel. If you want to know when J.D.’s next book will come out, please visit https://thechroniclesofjen.wordpress.com/ or connect with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/author.jdthompson/

Book preview

Silver and Stone

The Bloodlines Series

By

J.D. Thompson

Copyright 2010 J.D. Thompson

Smashwords Edition

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Silver and Stone

Chapter 1

The nightmare is always the same. I’m running through the woods, certain something is chasing me. It's night, but glimpses of the full moon between the trees light my path as though it were mid-day. Branches loom over the narrow trail, their brittle limbs completely void of leaves, standing like giant hands trying to grab me. I feel as though I've been running for hours. My legs could fail me at any minute but I can't stop now. I've come too far, and I'm so close. The clearing is just ahead. Behind me I can feel its presence growing nearer. I'm too scared to look back and see what exactly is following me. Too frightened that I might take a wrong step and let it catch me. I can feel its cold breath on the back of my neck. Its footsteps shadow mine, so close they are almost one. My heart is racing as I see the opening between the trees. Ten more feet and I reach the clearing. Ten more feet and I'm safe. Only, ten is too many, and it grabs me from behind.

I wake up screaming. I'm sitting up-right in my bed, sweat pouring down my face. I'm so shaken, I have a hard time processing that what just happened was indeed a dream. The alarm clock on my nightstand reads 5:32 a.m. Way too early to be having a crisis. I slowly drag myself out of bed, unsure whether or not my legs will cooperate. The nightmares started when I was twelve and have occurred on and off ever since. Recently, they've gotten worse. Most people would consider my bad dreams normal considering what my life has been like lately but I know better. When the trembling has finally decreased to a minimum, I wobble my way to the bathroom.

I look in the mirror only to find that I look as terrible as I feel. My hair is in disarray, a mess of dark brown tangles and curls. The black circles under my eyes do nothing for my pale complexion. I make a mental note to visit a tanning salon, ASAP. Peaceful sleep has become a distant memory, and it's definitely taking its toll. The dreams have never been so vivid, so real. I start the shower, turning the hot water on so high it's almost to a boil. My mind is working against me, gravitating back to the nightmarish scene that’s been playing in my head like a broken record over the past five years. I stand in the shower, unmoving, for what feels like forever. I stand there for as long as it takes to wash off the dream residue from my being. I stand for as long as it takes to feel awake.

When I believe I've successfully rinsed away the feeling of dread and possibly my first layer of skin, I step out of the shower.

For a second, I thought you had drowned in there.

I turn to see my sister standing in the doorway. She is only one year my junior but lately we seems worlds apart.

I didn't realize I had a time limit, I shoot back irritated. I continue, not holding back my growing annoyance, Who cares anyway? It's not like anyone else is supposed to be awake at five thirty in the morning.

Madison looks at me confused.

Alexis, it's past eight... we're going to be late if you don't hurry.

That's impossible. There's no way I took a three hour shower. I am so taken aback that I stand there with my mouth gaping open. I look past her into my room down the hall. From where I'm standing I can see the dim red light of my alarm clock indicating that Madison's right. It's 8:17. Her worried stare brings me out of my catatonic state of shock.

Um, you ok? 'Cause you're kind of standing there like a weirdo and I need to use the bathroom.

Chapter 2

It's one thing to be late on the first day of school, but it's another story altogether to miss the whole first period. As I push open the heavy wooden doors of what is surely one of the oldest schools in North America, I take a deep breath. I am still slightly frazzled, and stepping into the empty Grand Hall does nothing to lighten my mood. With its tall arched ceilings and stone covered walls, Weatherford Preparatory School feels less like a school and more like what it was initially intended to be; a castle. Built for a French colonel in the early 1800s, no expense had been spared. In its original state I'm sure Weatherford had been a sight to be seen. Its grandeur and elegance had attracted many wealthy students from all corners of country. It had been a school for the elite. Fast forward two and a half centuries and you'd notice that while its appearance has changed slightly, the content of the school has not. The startling fact is that although Weatherford has lost its glamorous facade, the same types of snotty students are in attendance. The old palace has seen better days but unfortunately that's the case for most buildings in this town, so it isn't all that surprising.

Hall pass, Miss Bardolph?

The voice is coming from the shadows of one of the many massive columns Weatherford is famous for. The place is full of nooks and crannies that not only give the school an extra air of creepiness, but also double as handy hiding spots. Handy for Morty, not so handy for a student cutting class such as myself.

No, I say, frustrated that my general lack of stealth has gotten me caught so quickly, but would you make an exception if I said my alarm clock didn't go off?

No.

Got lost on the way?

No.

Abducted by aliens?

Honestly Miss Bardolph, you're lucky the front gates weren't locked yet or, not only would you have missed first period, you would have missed the entire first day, Morty answers with a disgruntled sigh. Now, given your family's current situation, I will let this one slide. However, if I catch you wandering the halls during class hours again you'll have to answer to the Headmaster.

I'm momentarily pleased that my attempt to humor Morty the Hall Monitor from Hell was successful, but my cheerfulness is short lived. My family's current situation. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking of it, instantly making me regret the hurried bowl of Fruit Loops I demolished before leaving the house.

Now I suggest that you see Mrs. Belleview for your class schedule, Miss Bardolph, before I change my mind, Morty says impatiently, shifting his weight from side to side as though he couldn't get rid of me fast enough.

As I turn to leave I see him step back into the shadows from which he came, like some kind of over-grown gremlin waiting for its next victim. Morty is Weatherford's rent-a-cop and he takes his security guard job way too seriously. In a small town like Holler Creek, nothing worth securing ever happens. Of course there is the occasional case of vandalism or robbery, but mostly the police officers hang out at the local diner and give out parking tickets. With Morty around, you'd think we were living in the Bronx.

I walk towards the secretary's office as quickly as my petite 5"1 frame will allow without tearing into a full-blown sprint. Ever since I started attending Weatherford my freshman year, I've had no need for exercise. Just getting from class to class seems like enough cardio to last me a lifetime. When I finally reach the end of the Grand Hall, which in all honesty seems long enough to be a landing strip for large aircrafts, I see Mrs. Belleview sitting at her desk. She's in her usual two piece power-suit and spiked stiletto heels and is typing vigorously on her keyboard. Mrs. Belleview is another employee who takes her job to a whole new level of importance, however she accomplishes it in a much friendlier fashion. As I stand in front of her desk unnoticed I examine her from a closer angle. Hair perfectly coiffed, nails manicured to a T, even her makeup seems to have been airbrushed on.

Hi Mrs. Belleview, I say, feeling bad I have to interrupt what I would call nothing short of an assault against her keyboard. I know I'm late but I'm here for my class schedule.

Thankfully, she gives her computer a moment to recover and looks up at me smiling.

I was wondering when you would show up! I would have thought you to be a tad earlier on your first day as a senior.

No sooner are the words said, my need to vomit returns in full force. As of today, I'm officially a senior; meaning that in approximately eight months time I will be graduating. Meaning I should be looking into potential colleges to attend in the fall. Meaning I'm screwed. A year ago I had been more than eager to say goodbye to this small town. Now all I want to do is cling onto its familiarity for dear life.

Rummaging through her expertly organized stacks of paper, Mrs. Belleview pulls out a sheet and hands it to me. Alexis Bardolph: Biology, Environmental Science, Algebra and World History. Didn't take Headmaster Strafford's talk concerning college admissions lightly, did you?

I smile politely, all while reliving Headmaster Strafford's speech in my mind as though it had been spoken just yesterday. The words future, success and higher education hit me like colossal waves, and I can't reach the surface to catch my breath.

At the time of the assembly, I had been exhilarated. I was at the top of my class. I was an over-achiever and the position of Valedictorian was just within my reach. The auditorium had been packed with students that afternoon, but all I saw was Headmaster Strafford. For those twenty-odd minutes, his words had been like gold. I planned to attend, as most students who graduate from Weatherford, an Ivy League school out of state or possibly even over-seas. I had chosen the hardest classes Weatherford had to offer in hopes to better prepare for, and of course impress, the colleges to which I would apply. I was considered part of Weatherford’s best and brightest. But all of that couldn’t matter less now.

Sensing Mrs. Belleview's watchful gaze, I plaster on the best mask of happiness my face has to offer and I turn to leave. I've gotten good at pretending to care over the last four months. Unfortunately the only time I feel much of anything lately is when I have one of those awful nightmares.

I hurry to my locker, since I know Amber and Logan are probably already waiting for me. That's the one, and probably lone, positive outcome of everything that has happened; I was able to filter the friends from the leechers. Although I won't lie, it still stings to walk past Blake in the hall and have him completely ignore my existence. Icing on the cake is to see him standing next to Olivia, my former friend. I had been updated by Logan that the pair had become an item over the summer but to see it in person makes it all too real. Of course they look nauseatingly fabulous together. Blake and I had been inseparable for nearly a year until my world was flipped like a pancake. Students from Weatherford tend to shy away from negative press in fear that it might taint their flawless honor-roll reputation. And in light of my recent notoriety, Blake is no exception.

I act indifferent as Olivia wraps her skinny Kate-Moss arms around Blake, knowing full well that I'm still close enough to notice. Even on a good day it's hard not to hate Olivia. She's tall, blond and absolutely evil. I once saw her make a freshman in a wheelchair cry for taking her parking space near the door. The bitch is heartless. And of course I had made the regrettable decision of choosing a locker right next to hers before the end of last semester, meaning I will now have to endure Blalivia PDA all year.

I exhale a sigh of relief as I see Amber walk out of the girls' washroom. I'm glad to see that, although she's been away vacationing with her family in St-Barthes since July, nothing about her seems to have changed. Same wavy auburn hair, milky skin and striking ice-blue eyes. Amber is beautiful in a way that appears effortless, like she hops out of bed in the morning ready to be on the cover of Vogue. To some people this might sound intimidating but when everything around you is crumbling down, consistency is something you welcome with open arms. Even if that consistency comes in the shape of a 5’10 part-time runway model.

Thank God, I thought I was going to need to call a search party! she teases as she approaches me.

Never mind that, I think I'm going to need therapy after witnessing the gruesome twosome going at it.

You need therapy regardless what you just saw, Amber answers, only half joking. but yeah, it is pretty disturbing.

What's disturbing? Logan says, popping out of nowhere.

Romeo and Hitler over there, Amber replies, nodding towards Blake and Olivia.

Omigod I know! I had the pleasure of watching their daily hook-ups at the creek all summer and let me tell you, it's hard to even look in their general direction. Strange how Blake was never that way with you Lexi...

As soon as she says it, I know she regrets it. Even under Logan's dark olive skin I can see she is severely blushing. When she bites down on her lower lip and starts twirling a strand of her straight black hair, I know she's waiting for me to say something. I pretend not to have heard the comment, since Logan has a long-standing case of foot-in-mouth syndrome.

Did anyone else sign up for Environmental Science? I ask, putting Logan out of her misery.

Her face brightens immediately. I did! But I should probably warn you that since Mr. Mason's divorce he's been in a perpetual sour mood. Apparently he's yelled at the paper boy so often over the summer that the Holler Creek Daily no longer delivers to his house. If you ask me, he just enjoys taking his frustration out on the young and innocent.

Thankfully, I won't be one of them, Amber replies with a somewhat smug grin.

You're not that young, I say.

And you're definitely not innocent, adds Logan laughing. Need I remind you of the pool boy incident?

Or the affair with the gardener?

Anything penile, really.

Amber rolls her eyes amused. "Innocent until proven guilty, ladies!