Wishin' on the Moon

By Ashley Brooke Robbins

My name is Rose, and welcome to the summer break before my senior year. You’d think I’d be a little more excited, sorry to disappoint. My mom thinks I’m in a state of depression. I yell how nuts she is…then begin snot-crying, uncontrollably. So embarrassing.

I live on a small island named Luna Bay, in North Carolina. I should be getting excited like the rest of the teenage population to venture off into the enchanting world of endless exams and studying—college. Instead, I spend my days hiding out in my room, living vicariously through the lives of fictional characters.

Until my whole world turns upside down when I throw water in an innocent guy’s face. That’s when the headaches start, the blackouts and general craziness, ya know, more so than normal.

“Sometimes the worst possible situation turns into something great. Something you’ll never forget…remember that.”—Rose Kaylin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Jul 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533752840

Book preview

Wishin’ on the Moon

Ashley Brooke Robbins

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this stripped book.

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Wishin’ on the Moon

Copyright © 2016 Ashley Brooke Robbins

All rights reserved.

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ISBN: (ebook) 978-0-9976212-0-4

Inkspell Publishing

5764 Woodbine Ave.

Pinckney, MI 48169

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Edited By Kate Richards

Cover art By Najla Qamber

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Wishin’ on the Moon

My name is Rose, and welcome to the summer break before my senior year. You’d think I’d be a little more excited, sorry to disappoint. My mom thinks I’m in a state of depression. I yell how nuts she is...then begin snot-crying, uncontrollably. So embarrassing.

I live on a small island named Luna Bay, in North Carolina. I should be getting excited like the rest of the teenage population to venture off into the enchanting world of endless exams and studying—college. Instead, I spend my days hiding out in my room, living vicariously through the lives of fictional characters.

Until my whole world turns upside down when I throw water in an innocent guy’s face. That’s when the headaches start, the blackouts and general craziness, ya know, more so than normal.

Sometimes the worst possible situation turns into something great. Something you’ll never forget...remember that.

—Rose Kaylin.

Dedication

Here’s to you; the reader. Without you, us writers would have a voice but no audience. For this I’ll be eternally grateful. 

May the sun bring you new energy by day, may the moon softly restore you by night. May the rain wash away your worries, may the breeze blow new strength into your being. May you walk gently through the world and know its beauty all the days of your life.

—Apache Prayer.

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.

—Norman Cousins

Prologue

Fine, be that way. Max gets into his car. I guess I’ll see ya later, he calls, sticking his head out the window as he backs out of my driveway.

Be careful! I wave with my free hand, and I can’t take my eyes off of his dusty old mustard-colored Mustang as it disappears down the street.

Soon my attention is brought back to the little creature, who is adorable upon occasion, cuddled in my arms. He gives another sharp tug on my necklace. Gotta make sure it’s made right, huh?

He yanks one last time and it clatters to the concrete. Defective necklace! I bellow into the deserted neighborhood. Ready? I whisper. He nods, and I drop him down to grab it. We both clap gleefully when, on the fourth try, his sticky fingers make contact with the silver chain. And, of course, he throws it back to the ground.

You’d better be glad you’re cute... I snatch it up myself, skip back into the garage and through the side door with him giggling the whole way like the futuristic troublemaker I assume he’ll be.

Babysitting ain’t easy. It’s a few hours later, and as I finally wrangle him to lie down on the couch for his nap, the phone impersonates a banshee. Dancing around the piles of his toys, I snatch it up as quickly as I can. Yellow?

Rose? a watery voice answers.

Aggie? I thought for a long time she was a robot; the woman never cries, or shows any sort of emotion. Automatic alarm shivers through me in waves. What’s wrong? What happened? Fear makes my throat close. Max...?

Her voice turns into a hiss. He’s been murdered.

Murdered? My knees threaten to buckle. W-who did it?

You. The line goes dead.

Chapter One

What could suck more than your best friend dying in an accident, the one you were supposed to be in? Well, I’ll inform you, it’s living a life without a brother who is the Greg Olsen to your Cam Newton because he’s deployed in Afghanistan, having your parents merely think you’re nuts, and having the whole town stare at you like you’re a grenade. One that could go off at any minute.

Click, click, boom.

It’s a night eternally embedded in my head. He wanted me to go to this party with him. College party, whoop! Woo...but I was stuck with my baby cousin on my hip. It was my weekend to sit the beast. It’s the new rule in the Kaylin family, since my mom insists on letting my cousins, the parents of said baby beast, have some time to themselves, we have to babysit. So, my brothers and I created a system. It’s very complex. We rotate.

Our parents were having their annual bowling night. So, I didn’t have a choice. And Max refused to stay with me. He is—was baby phobic and that was the last time I saw him leave my house. Ooh, and add in the fact his mother blames me for the whole thing because I didn’t go and be his DD. You’ve got it right. On my plate remains a grand, spicy dish with a side of bullshit and self-hatred.

This delicious little life event happened the fall of last year. Now it’s summer and when I go back to school I’ll be a senior, which is what other people my age are excited about then moving on to the ever-pleasant college. I don’t give two whole shits.

It’s not right, and I don’t feel particularly comfortable moving on to the next phase of my life without the person I planned it with. It might sound stupid, considering we never dated, but, it still doesn’t appeal to me. I’ll just spend my days as a hermit in my parents’ basement. Hell, I might even start a blog. And...cue my boredom.

Because playing World of Warcraft will, in time, get boring. Sorry, fellow nerds, but it will.

My brother’s been trying to comfort me via Skype. His name’s Nick—he’s the decent one. The others, Jarrod and Henry, continue to be devil spawn, just like the baby cousin.

Nick’s lieutenant or whatever they’re called, wouldn’t let him come home, not even for a damn day. I’m aware it’s not possible, but I was hoping my tears would annoy said boss man enough to give him some leave.

Blinking a few times, I come back down to Earth as the seemingly never-ending line of doting fans narrows down to four people. How long did I zone out this time?

It was nice meeting you, too, Mom chirps with a huge smile before turning it on me. See, isn’t this fun?

Watching you sign books? I raise an eyebrow. She leans forward, appearing to be waiting for my upbeat response. Not wanting to ruin everything for her, I plaster a smile on my face. Uh-huh.

Somebody shoot me.

A throat is cleared and my attention darts to the middle-aged woman who’s standing in front of our table, staring at my mother like she’s the one who created the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Hello, Mom says. What’s your name? The woman answers but I don’t pay attention. There have been so many other women like her, you just begin to lose interest after a while, or, at least, I do. But I’m depressed and rebellious my mother says. Witnessing her like this, in her natural habitat, you can see her love for it. How her chocolate-brown eyes light up when she meets so many new people and her smile...well, she resembles The Joker quite a lot. I see where I get the creepy factor...and the shit-brown eyes. Luckily, she kept the long, red, curly hair. I’ve seen her wrangle with it. No, thank you.

I am fine with my slightly wavy blonde hair, which I got from my dad, along with the man shoulders. Thanks, genetics.

My name’s Rose Kaylin, the last name sound familiar? My mom’s a world famous paranormal romance author with the same last name. Going by the ever-trendy J.K. Kaylin, I thought it was a joke. Heh, see what I did there? Never mind.

Well, J.K. Kaylin stands for Julian, made-up initial, Kaylin. She thought it’d be good for me to get out and socialize. I don’t want to be associated with these people. Not the fans. They don’t bother me. They’re what make her so happy, and, frankly, how we get food on the table. It’s the others, the people at the after party. The ones who think their shit doesn’t stink because they can afford to eat a twenty dollar salad. Why, why would you want a few pieces of excessively moist lettuce with a few small tomatoes and some dressing on the side?

Fortunately, my mom hasn’t let the fame or money go to her head. I hope it doesn’t. Her main focus lately has been saving it up for our college funds. With four kids, you’ve gotta get your priorities in order real quick, especially with my dad’s low income as a cook at a local diner.

I love my parents, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t understand what it’s like to lose someone. Both sets of my grandparents continue to roam the earth, all my parents’ friends and family are still kicking...they just expect me to get over it and move on.

He was my best friend, though. He understood precisely why I loathe these events, and he just grasped my difficult, insane self, which is a challenging task, trust me. It doesn’t faze them, though. No matter how I try to explain, they think it’s a painful time that won’t take much to get over. My depression will go away on its own. It hasn’t yet, and it probably won’t. Tell them this little insight? They brush it off like it’s nothing. My mental well-being is nothing...awesome.

They don’t understand and they never will. I’ve always been one to peek on the brighter side of things. Or, to be truthful, the more sarcastic side.

Once the party goes into full swing, the event I didn’t even want to attend, I might add, my mom runs around socializing. This is her book release party. Why shouldn’t she talk to every...single...person...in...the...room?

Being the social butterfly I am, I plop my overjoyed ass in the corner, far away from the people who live in North Carolina, where humidity is our second language, who would rather buy a new fur jacket than give some bread to some starving people on the street. With this divine scenario in my cranial matter, I cozy in with my book and iPod blaring in my ears.

Yes, Mom, I’m getting to know these people...fictional characters. It counts.

Exactly when it comes to the fight scene in Serena Pettus’s The Wolfe Brothers, To Tame his Mate, the table underneath my arms jerks as some douche pirate flops down across from me. Grabbing my fancy wine glass filled with water before it spills all over my black jeans, I glare up at the pirate.

The guy smiles sheepishly and mutters what appears to be an apology. Either way, I can’t hear him, and I don’t bother taking my earbuds out. Maybe he’ll get the hint. I’m the bitch who doesn’t want to be disturbed. Maybe I should get a sign. Paste it on my forehead.

A little while later, I peer over the page and he’s still here. He’s not watching me like a creeper, but, one question overpowers the story scene trying to play out in my head. Why hasn’t he left? Annoyed, I hit pause and yank my earbuds out. Opening my mouth, prepared to give him a piece of my mind, I’m beyond shocked when the only sound is a piercing chortle from a tipsy woman at the bar and murmurs from the other people surrounding us.

This has never been an issue before. I always have something to say about everything. But, with him, I dunno, which results in me wanting to leap across the table and rip out his throat. Maybe my brother was right about sending me to the funny farm...

Grinding my teeth, I try to identify why he’s affecting me like this. Noting his dark complexion, thick black hair, and high cheekbones, I assume he has some Native American in his bloodline, and he’s not chunky, he’s big-boned. I know the feeling. My big hips and wide everything else can vouch for it.

My breath catches when his brilliant green eyes lock with mine. I’m not sure if it’s a result of the lit candle on our table, but they’re so bright, they practically glow. But his lips...hmmm, they aren’t the nice, typically adored, full kind. Disappointed, I am.

It soon dawns on me that it’s usually the guy who gets caught staring like a complete nutjob. Only this time, it’s me, the chick crazy pants who’s gawking at this potentially innocent dude. Embarrassed, I am also.

Feeling a sudden, unexplainable rage, my sneer returns and without my thinking about it, my water’s all over his face and down the front of his shirt. Storming away before anyone could realize what happened, I come back to my senses and accept something.

I am completely batshit crazy.

<<<->>>

I cannot believe— My mother gives another disapproving shake of her head. Why would you—? She throws her hands up before swiftly grabbing the steering wheel again. What did he do to you?

I open my mouth.

Oh, right, nothing! She slams her tiny fist down onto the wheel. Absolutely nothing!

Mom—

Do you know how embarrassing, no. She laughs bitterly. "Humiliating it was to have everyone stare at me, with looks of-of disgust because of you?"

I raise an eyebrow at her.

Ain’t you gonna say anything?! she huffs, fleetingly glancing at me.

Oh joy. When she’s past mad, bypassed ticked, and gone straight through to pissed, the sassy Southern accent springs out and smacks you in the face. Knowing better, I slouch deeper into the passenger seat and keep my lips pressed together.

I’d like to keep my teeth in my mouth, thanks. They’re happy here. I’ve been backhanded only a few times in my life, and I can honestly say I deserved it. I’ve been a smart ass ever since I came out of this woman beside me.

Soon the lone sound in the car is the clicking of the turn signal as we pull onto the bridge. For the tourists, the residents put bright spotlights onto the sign so optimistically stating Welcome to Luna Bay. At the moment, it’s only succeeding in making me feel nauseous. No puking on the new leather...

So, how was it? My dad’s naturally loud voice bounces off of the hardwood floors in the entryway as soon as we walk through the front door. My mom gives him a disapproving scowl then her narrowed eyes focus squarely on me. Before she can yell, I dart away like a spooked Chihuahua at a loud burp. You can’t get me!

In the living room, my two brothers elbow each other, trying to win the virtual race on the screen. The profanity being growled at one another is enough to make me, Queen of the Potty Mouth, blush. I hear the sound of Mom’s keys going onto the key rack, and her and Dad whispering to each other. It’s always fun when you’re the cause of the kerfuffle.

Time to nonchalantly check Facebook. Such a typical teenage mutant I am.

I’m standing off to the side, playing on my phone, when the silence causes my ears to ring. My teenage brothers actually paused the game, paused it. The only thing likely to get a young male’s attention is a half-naked girl, the mention of food, or a serious situation. For example, a fire, tornado, pizza, hot naked girl, bear in a tutu running through the house, or someone from Ghost Adventures suddenly appearing. All three of my brothers are dweebs for the GAC, but, as am I.

I quickly glance around. Zak? Aaron? We have ghosties...

What the hell! Henry yells, turning to glare at Jarrod who elbows him and jerks his chin toward me. From Henry’s glare, I can tell he’s trying to make my head explode. How nice.

Come on, you can go against the winner, Jarrod awkwardly offers. Trying to play it off like it’s not the weirdest thing that’s—in reality, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s uttered. He is a teenage boy. Translation, he’s a pervert. I don’t have any sisters or girls to hang around. Meaning, I’m also one, I just know when to keep the comments to myself.

With my head down, I slink across their line of sight and plop down on the couch, wishing I could dissolve into the cushions, but such a superpower wasn’t passed on to me. I’ve tried by sheer mental will a few times before. I still can’t go to Xavier’s school. Damn.

So, how’d it go? Jarrod relaxes, meeting my eyes.

Unnn...eventful? Now I’m the sheepish one.

What’d you do? He evidently knows me a little too well. Even if I still barely see him...I need to pay more attention and get out of my head more.

I threw—

Man, I don’t give a shit how it went, why do you? Poor Henry’s face is red by now. Temper, temper... Are you about to explode?

Dude, I snap back. From the looks of it, you’re losing, so sit over there and pipe it down.

No, Rose! Throwing the controller down, he jumps to his six-foot-five height and glowers down at me. Ever since Max died, we’ve had to tiptoe around you because Mom’s scared you’re gonna completely fall off the deep end. And I’m freakin’ sick of it! You’re a spoiled brat and— Jarrod stands up, blocking my view of him.

I guess he sees the tears streaming down my face. I try to fight it off, but sometimes you just can’t. Every time his name’s mentioned, it’s like finding out all over again. My stomach drops, and it feels like someone’s snatched my heart from my chest cavity, breaking every single rib in the process. I think that’d be less painful. Grief is such a strange thing. How everything can sneak up on you all at once, all over again.

Shockingly, my tears don’t phase my sugary-sweet brother. The devil storms out of the room.

My dad says something to him, but the response is footsteps stomping up the stairs then the crickets sing from the sliding glass window to our left. Jarrod puts the controller in my lap and starts the game over. So, with tears trailing down my face, I coast around the track, crashing into everything possible and, in the end? I kick his ass because he lets me win.

He’ll never admit it though.

Chapter Two

Lying in bed