The Legend of Eve: The Chosen Ones, #1

By Toni Edge

Seventeen-year-old high school transfer student Eve Carson is the genetic cure-all for droolworthy Teluosian alien King, Adam Plain.

As Adam tries to convince Eve he wants her and not just her DNA, Eve discovers a hidden world of interstellar traders, human "genetic cows," and teen abductions by a government that will do anything to control the Teluosians on Earth.

When Eve's mom is kidnapped, loyalties are tested. Is Eve Adam's true love or his next "genetic cow?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Toni Edge
• Release date: Dec 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9780991221806

Book preview

The Legend of Eve

The Legend of Eve

by

Toni Edge

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my kids who always wanted to bring their mother to career day because being a writer is way cooler than what the other parents did.

– Part One –

Chapter One

Lonely Heart: Are you there? Please don’t leave me, too.

Survivor: I’m here. I told you I’d be here and I am. Are you alone?

Lonely Heart: I am now, but he’s coming to take me to school.

Survivor: Tell your parents! Tell anyone about him.

Lonely Heart: They wouldn’t believe me. If I wasn’t living this, I wouldn’t believe me.

Survivor: Bullies aren’t just in school. Just because you’re going out with him doesn’t mean he can’t be a bully.

Lonely Heart: Maybe, but—he’s coming up the stairs. I have to go. Look for my messages. He’s taking me to meet his friends. Maybe they’ll like me and it will get better.

Survivor: Wait! Where is he taking you?

Fudge and Crackers! I said as I slammed down my Mac. She hadn’t told me where they were going and as my hand smoothed over the sides of my computer, I realized there was a scratch.

I cradled my baby to my chest and kissed the glowing apple before setting it gently on my twelve-ninety-nine, flat, twin comforter. Hopefully, the flower design would make my baby feel better as I wallowed in despair.

Oh, how I wanted to throw myself back on the bed and kick and scream. Instead, I lay down and folded my hands over my stomach. Amongst all of my bloggers Lonely Heart worried me the most.

My school had opened the blog site as a freshman connect at Hilton High School. The principals thought they had the answer to poor kids dropping out of school early—chat rooms and blogs. Whatever, just another idea made without input from the people it was supposed to be helping.

So, my rooms and blogs attracted those who needed help. Now, people know if they are being bullied or need someone to talk to, they can IM Survivor and I’ll help.

I looked up at my ceiling. It was white with a happy moon smiling down at me. When I was five, it was cute. My dad and I painted it together. Now that I’m seventeen and Dad has been gone for two years, it’s just plain stupid.

Dad was wrong. Smiling doesn’t make it better. Lonely Heart wasn’t better. The last two years hadn’t gotten any better either. I turned my head to look outside my window. In front of the window was a vanity that was also my desk. On it were brochures for colleges and my acceptance to the Stavrett Gifted Program.

Stavrett was in the better part of town. It was just one step in my plan to get me and Momma out of East New York. I looked around the room at the threadbare rug we bought from Khan’s Carpet. I saw the wannabe wood dresser that leaned to the side and I couldn’t move off of the wall because I was scared it would fall apart.

The soulful rhythms of Momma singing gospel music floated into my room. I closed my eyes and wished just once that something good could happen without the bad.

I took a deep breath and threw my feet over the side of the bed. My feet found my plush zombie slippers. Yeah, I know the green footwear with the bloody mouths and wide yellow eyes weren’t going to get me any points with the rich Stavrett girls, but this was me. I kind of thought the zombies were cute.

I left my room and walked down the hallway of memory lane. Frames with color pictures of me, my momma and dad decorated the walls. Momma said those pics were the best shots of me and her. One or two maybe, but after that I realized she would never forget Dad even though he had obviously moved on with another family. The last framed picture was a black and white photo of me and Momma in front of the project building.

It was this picture that made me say yes to Stavrett. I didn’t want to go. But going there was the only way for me and Momma to leave here someday.

The chorus of The Lord is Blessing Me Right Now met me at the kitchen door. The kitchen was like the rest of the apartment—a living monument to the seventies. Some kids complained about their parents being flower children. Well my parents had definitely enjoyed the Motown moment. My mom enjoyed it so much we never left. Some kids didn’t invite you to their house because of their neighborhoods. I was just embarrassed by the brown, orange and green circles that randomly popped up in the kitchen.

She was singing a song of hope, which meant she was feeling down. Memories of every seventies song I’d ever heard beat at me as I walked to the small circular table and waited for her to talk. This was how it went. She would sing. I would come in and sit. We would both pretend that I just happened to come in to check on her before she told me what was wrong.

As I watched her clean the stove in a long orange and white dress that just screamed Diana Ross she looked over her shoulder and gave me a shaky smile.

Hi, baby. I’m home today because the job said they didn’t need me to come in…today.

Maybe the day wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Momma had told me the problem within the first ten minutes, instead of the first three hours.

Momma, don’t worry. You know they have moments like this all year long. Besides, it’s Sunday. You can watch all the shows you normally miss. I’ll make dinner tonight and you can relax, for when they call you back.

She nodded and her Farrah Fawcett wig nodded with her. When she turned back to the stove I looked out the barred window in the kitchen and prayed. I prayed to whoever would listen. Anything has got to be better than this. I loved Momma dearly, but I didn’t want to end up like her.

My schedule is going to be funny for a bit. When you go to that fancy program make sure you call me.

Momma might be depressed, broke and feeling low but she never forgot about me and school. I know she bragged about me all the time to the people at her work. She would say I was the only thing she did right in her life. She thought that was a compliment, but it just confirmed I had to get me and momma out of East New York.

I’ll call every day like normal.

You gonna perm your hair tonight? A new school. New friends, new opportunities.

Momma wasn’t subtle.

I’m not looking for a boyfriend.

She threw the sponge on top of the stove and raked her hands through her wig. You’re at the age. Those boys are from good families. You’re a bit thin but you’re smart.

Momma—

You’re on that computer too much but you’ve got good hair.

Momma—

And you got clear skin and bright oval eyes. It’s the whole package that matters.

Momma! When I leave Stavrett they’ll give me a scholarship for college.

She picked up her sponge and rinsed it out in the sink. She didn’t speak but the silence of disapproval hung in the air. Just when she was about to leave the kitchen she turned to look at me. I’m not saying schooling ain’t important. But no man or woman was made to be alone. I’m telling you what I know. Lonely gets tired quick, girl.

With the words of doom and gloom she left the kitchen. I heard her shuffle down the hall and her bedroom door close. She had to slam it because the door was warped and didn’t fit the frame anymore.

What to make for dinner? The fixings were slim. A sharp knock sounded on the door.

I stood up and grabbed the baseball bat that was beside the stove. Momma had the TV turned up so high I could hear the Oprah rerun intro music through the door. I needed to get to the door before she did.

* * *

I yanked open the metal green door and saw a tall guy there. When he lifted his head my mouth fell open. It was like Nutella had formed into a person. He looked at the bat in my hand and his brow furrowed. So I did the only thing I could do. I slammed the door closed.

My hand went to my mouth. I turned to see if Momma would poke her head out of her bedroom, and then held my hand out as the door bounced back at me. Instead of hearing it slam, I heard What the—

Life moved in slow motion. There was a large black sneaker in the doorway.

Dude, you’ve got the wrong apartment. I lifted the bat and tapped the top of his shoe.

Grunting sounded from the other side. Good. He sounded like he was in pain. I deliberately bounced the door against his foot.

Ow! Yo, watch the sneaks.

Then move your foot!

Hey, I just came—

I don’t know why you came. I don’t care why you came and in case you were wondering, we don’t do that kind of business here. You’ve got the wrong apartment.

I lifted the bat and hit his foot.

I came to see Eve Carson!

I had already started the second bounce, so I couldn’t stop it from hitting his foot or ripping the side of the sneaker.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cool metal hoping I could somehow just melt into it. Stalling never made anything better. I put the bat behind me, smoothed my hair and opened the door.

Droolworthy. I secretly classified this word for empty-headed girls who were more apt to get pregnant than get an education. As of this moment, I was apologizing to those girls.

I was looking at a purple polo shirt, stretched across a muscular chest. Who knew a guy could wear purple and still look so much like a…guy. His chest was so big the polo player looked like he was on a hill. The little white buttons fell neatly into the valley between his pecs and the bottom of the shirt clung to ripped abs.

He pulled his foot back and swore. Look what you did.

I should have said I was sorry. I wanted to say I was sorry, but my eyes were still taking him in. Weren’t boys supposed to look skinny in skinny jeans? How did he even get into those black pants? The muscles in his thighs moved as he turned his leg to examine his ruined sneaker.

When the swearing stopped and his muscles were no longer giving me a free show on how they functioned, I knew I had been caught staring. If I’m going to be accused of the crime, I should at least be guilty.

Okay, it wasn’t the best rationale I’d ever given myself to ogle a boy, but this was no ordinary boy. This was Prince Charming’s mocha son. I memorized everything about him, like kids remembered everything about their first bully. He had strong legs, good fashion sense, an amazing body and brown brooding eyes that screamed a bad boy lives here.

You wanted me? As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to pull them back. His focus changed from his sneaker to me.

I don’t know, you seem dangerous. His jaw clenched, showing off his perfectly tanned skin. Would a zit even dare take up residence on his face?

His voice was like hot chocolate, warm and cozy. I saw his lips turn up into a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. I knew I should be worried, but then he spoke and I was lost.

Are you dangerous, Eve Carson? he said, turning his damaged sneaker side to side. He reached out and ran his finger along my chin. If Nutella ever got this addictive, I would gain weight from gluttony. Are you in there, Eve?

I jerked my head back and hit the metal door. I rubbed my head and tried not to swear. Momma had bat hearing when I swore. That woman could wake up from a dead sleep if I let out a cuss. The moment was so awkward that I couldn’t keep eye contact.

Hey, can you speak or are you just pretty? Okay, he was the problem. Nutella Boy was messing with my head. Did he just say I was pretty?

I’m Eve Carson, and I don’t know you. That sounded so incredibly dumb. I am the S.A.T tutor at Hilton. I read books like people watch television and that’s what I said? Where are the cops when you need them?

I know.

Uh-huh. Nutella Boy thought he was cute. I was thinking more on the lines of you telling me how you know my name and why you’re at my door or I call the police and you tell them.

The police?

His sweetness was wearing a bit thin. When he said police it almost came out like a snicker. Thinking he needed to be taken down a peg or two, I said, Yes, you know, the police. Those guys who go around with a stick and a gun and then yell things like ‘Stop!’ and ‘Put your hands up.’

He didn’t move. He just shifted his weight from one foot to another. Yeah, I’ve heard of them. Your local law enforcement.

So the awkward moment was becoming an annoying one. I’m not taking any applications for a stalker, so—

Ah, ’cause you don’t know me. Stalker? I guess there might be more to you than I thought. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me. It was the look. I tried not to flinch but it was hard. I didn’t want Nutella Boy to find me lacking, not that I cared or anything.

I blew out a breath and glanced down the hall. Momma was still sleeping, thank goodness. So police or no?

You do know that the police would never come in time to save you, right? He slowed his speech as if I had a problem. When I looked at him he was smiling a know-it-all grin. My hand reached for the bat again.

I don’t have all day. You gonna answer or leave? Nutella Boy looked at me, thinking about the decision.

I’m from Stavrett, he said, as if that cleared it all up.

And?

He had a dimple that would have been a sign of an angel but on him was surely a mark of the devil. I’m going to be your mentor. I wanted to know who they had stuck me with.

His words were like little switchblades cutting at the fatty part of the body, not enough to kill, but just enough to aggravate and bleed me. Stuck him with? Already the judgment was beginning and I hadn’t even started yet. This was the boy of my mother’s hopes and dreams. Good thing he showed his true colors. It was time to slay the dragon in this fantasy.

Well you don’t look like someone I want to be stuck with.

Really? He stepped closer to me. You seemed interested earlier. But I have to understand you might change your mind a lot. You’re from Hilton. They barely ever finish anything.

Was he calling me a quitter? Anger shot through my body. My hand tightened on the bat and I held on real tight in case I decided to swing. When I spoke, my voice was low, like Momma’s got when she was about to lose her mind. Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself. I’ve lived all this time without you. I think I can make it the rest of the way. I started to close the door, before I gave in to the urge to use the bat on those abs of steel.

Eve? he called.

I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear him but Momma’s manners kicked in. Yes?

He leaned against the wall and let out a big sigh as if I were the one who was in the wrong here. At Stavrett, I’m going to be your mentor. I’m a safe bet for you.

Safe?

Yeah, you being a girl and all. You’re special. I didn’t know it until I met you but you’re different. Oh, on the one hand I wanted to say darn right I’m special and good of you to notice it, loser. But, there was something in the way that he said it that gave me pause. I had spent too many nights listening for things unsaid in Momma’s words not to hear them in his.

All girls are special, just depends on what you’re looking for.

He laughed. Nice to know they haven’t made you into sheep. Get some sleep. You’ll need it for tomorrow.

Yeah you should sleep and maybe your head will shrink, I murmured. Typical guy, I muttered as continued to close the door.

He grinned at me and placed his hand on the door. What do you say here? Sticks and stones and all that. If you sound like that everyone is going to know you’re not from Stavrett, Angel.

I yanked the door open, hoping to throw him off balance. Don’t call me that, I snarled.

I just called you Angel. You on the other hand called me typical. Which one of us should be upset? He tipped an imaginary hat and stood up, brushing off his polo shirt. I’ll see you tomorrow. Since you’ve already seen me today, you should be able to control yourself.

He was too much. How did he even hear me muttering to myself? Don’t worry. All I’ll have to do is remember this charming discussion. Hopefully I can do it without getting sick over how conceited you are.

"Conceited? I never thought of it that way. But thanks for agreeing I’ve got what it takes to be conceited."

Whatever. I sucked my teeth and held up my hand.

He laughed outright then, running his hands through his low cut wave. Pulling the shirt across his chest, he rendered me helpless to do anything but look at him. Surely this guy was the poster child for sin. See you tomorrow, Angel. I finally slammed the door but his laughter echoed in the hallway.

Baby, are you back? I leaned against the metal door and took deep breaths before answering my mom.

There was nobody at the door. I think we should order in.

Okay baby, get my usual from the Chinese restaurant.

I was still trying to control the urge to scream. Nutella Boy was everything about Stavrett I was trying to avoid. Momma would be thrilled with him. Nope, it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I’d ever fit with Nutella Boy. In fact, I would make sure to clear up this whole mentor thing in the morning. He’d learn Eve Carson wasn’t one to play those games.

Chapter Two

Lonely Heart: Hello?

Lonely Heart: Please be there.

Survivor: I’m here. Are you okay?

Lonely Heart: He told me I was special. His friends think I’m special too.

Survivor: You don’t need him to say that.

Lonely Heart: No one else said that. They all said I was fat. Or a good girl.

Survivor: Where did you go? Who are his friends?

Survivor: Are you there?

Lonely Heart: He said he needed me. He’s sorry for making me feel bad. He needs me and I’m special.

Survivor: You’re special.

Lonely Heart: But he’s not a girl. I gotta go.

Survivor: Wait.

The bus ride to Stavrett the next morning took one hour. One hour of watching the project buildings fade away to brick homes. One hour of watching homeless people with shopping carts turn into stock boys unloading the trucks into stores. While I entered into the new world I got ready to do battle against Nutella Boy and all of his minions. I would ask for a new mentor and that would show him. Eve Carson didn’t fall for good looks and a quick wit. Nope, I was made of sterner stuff than that. That would so fix Nutella Boy.

The students at Stavrett looked like models. They wore Gucci, DKNY and Coach. It made my clean Old Navy blue jeans and light blue polo shirt look like I had gotten them from a vintage store. A large yellow sign hung on the wall with an arrow and large black letters spelling out New Students.

When I got to the air conditioned room I found a gray-haired woman behind the desk. She was sitting so still for a moment I wasn’t sure if she was breathing. The moment the door hissed closed behind me her head popped up like a bobble head toy. I jumped.

Hello, young lady.

Hello, I replied hesitantly. I’m a transfer from—

Hilton. Yes, you fortunate girl. Your name?

Eve—

Carson. Yes, Eve Carson. You were requested. We have some assessments for you to fill out and then we can get you matched to your mentor.

I watched the woman fiddle around with some paper on the desk and then I cleared my throat. She didn’t look up. I looked around the office. It was quiet enough. There were only two other women in the room and they sat at desks with their heads bowed low. So I tried clearing my throat again.

Oh my dear, you need to get that looked at. You know health is so important.

Okay, so subtle wasn’t going to work. Excuse me, Miss, I have a question about—

—Your classes. I know, but don’t worry. We do that for you to make sure you stay on track.

No, I have a question about—

"Oh yes, yes, your Metro card. Don’t worry about the Metro card. We’ll have you all set up by the end of the