Blind

By Ellie Samuel

Mousie Evie. Wallflower Jones. Invisible Girl.

Not good enough for her birth mother to keep her.
Not good enough for her best friend to make him love her.
But good enough for the Hunk to notice her?

The Hunk and the Chunk? Girl, puh-leeze!

Argh! Sometimes, I wish I could cut off my own dang head to spite my own dang brain!

Author’s Note: BLIND is the first story from the FRIENDSHIP COURT SERIES about five strangers who forged a bond through friendship, formed a family of love, and found happiness despite heartaches. All stories have a happy ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellie Samuel
• Release date: Feb 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370634491

Book preview

BLIND

By Ellie Samuel

Copyright 2017 by Eleanor Madriaga

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

* * * * *

Note from the Author

BLIND is the first story from the FRIENDSHIP COURT SERIES about five strangers who forged a bond through friendship, formed a family of love, and found happiness despite heartaches. All stories have a happy ending.

Clover, CA is a made-up city in this series. Kobe Bryant is real—though retired—and one of the all-time, best players in the NBA. Lifehouse is an awesome band who sings about sweethearts, heartbreaks, and breakthroughs.

* * * * *

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

EPILOGUE

BLIND Playlist

About Ellie Samuel

Other Titles by Ellie Samuel

Connect with Ellie Samuel

CHAPTER 1

It wouldn’t be my life if everything turned out exactly the way I wanted.

That’s right, girl, so don’t even go there!

I went there anyway.

At lunch, I ordered a chicken pot pie, a small Caesar salad, SoBe Green Tea, and a double chocolate chip cookie.

What landed on my tray were a small garden salad with Vinaigrette dressing, a carrot/celery packet minus the Ranch dressing, and a humongous bottle of water. Generic.

Cafeteria Lady patted my arm. Trust me, honey, you’ll thank me later.

I kept my finger firmly pointed at the cookie.

She gave me a pitying look. Oh, honey! A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips!

I tapped the glass separating me from the cookie. Hard.

With an eye roll/headshake combo, she plopped a pudding masquerading as chocolate on my tray. Sugar-free.

You’re welcome! She winked at me, pleased with herself. Like she had just done her good deed for the day. Reminding me of the obvious.

That you’re a size four in a school of size zeroes?

I shook my head hard to dislodge the stupid memory. But my mind refused to set my head free.

That you’re the granny panties in a sea of thongs?

As if I didn’t get reminded of it every single moment of every single day of my very single life!

Yay, pity-party for Evie!

Argh! The stupid voice in my head could easily drown my sanity. I forced a deep, deep breath in…then I let it out slowly. Seriously, was I about to have a mini-breakdown over a stupid cookie? I mentally smacked myself as I counted the many wonderful blessings I didn’t always have.

Wonderful parents.

Check.

Awesome friends.

Check.

Guy of my dreams.

Reality check!

I slammed the brakes on my own thoughts before they could gain speed. The last thing I needed was to get stuck on second gear of if-only’s.

If only I were worthy, then Adam would love me.

If only you weren’t delusional, then you’d be normal.

A pigeon squawked loudly overhead. Mocking me.

Or not!

With a sigh coming all the way from my toes, I latched on to the first human sound close enough to drown out the annoying voice inside my head. It wasn’t hard, really. Students were pouring out of the buildings like bats out of a cave.

"You think Queen of Mean, will sink her claws into Hunk of Dunks, again for, like, the zillionth time?"

Lena Davis, head cheerleader, aka Queen of Mean. Luke Hillman, captain of the basketball team, aka Hunk of Dunks. They’ve had an on-again-off-again relationship…since ninth grade!

"He is definitely a tall glass of give-me-some-of-that-please! She is totally a big chunk of get-it-out-of-my-face-stinky-cheese!"

Amen to that!

I can’t wait for Courtney’s big bash! Luke better show up!

Why? Because now you have a pair of grapefruits instead of teeny-weeny apricots?

Whoa! Harsh much?

"Fairy god doctor wielded his magic scalpel and bam!"

Bippity-boppity-boobs, right?

Ouch! Time out!

They’re super perky and totally firm!

Duh! So are mine!

TMI! TMI!

The ringing in my ears had barely subsided when—smack! My own pair of bippity-boppity-grapefruits were hacked and whacked in one shot. Instinctively, my hands went up to cover my chest, but I willed them to pick up the earbuds dangling around my neck instead. The last thing I needed was to be broadcasted on YouTube with my hands all over my dang boobs! I popped the buds in my ears and deep-breathed through the pain.

She-who-may-have-rendered-my-grapefruits-permanently-bruised let out a barrage of four-letter words, completely oblivious to the injury she had just inflicted on me. She searched madly in her purse, screaming furiously for her phone. She dumped the contents on the ground, pushing items aside angrily with her foot, muttering to herself like a looney tune. Then she threw her poor purse violently on top of the mess on the ground and started stomping on it. Like a three-year old throwing a temper tantrum.

Louboutin and Vuitton. The brand names popped uninvited in my head. A talent I picked up from Madison, my best friend since sixth grade. I lugged a Northface backpack. My kind of purse. Inconspicuous and simple.

You mean ordinary and invisible. Like you.

I ignored the hit below the belt, losing myself in the ominous roaring around me instead. Slowly, the noise penetrated through the thick fog that masqueraded as my brain…and the peril of my situation hit me. Here I was, right smack in the middle of the sidewalk, just minutes after the final bell.

On a Friday afternoon!

Yikes!

Before I could even take my next breath, I was bumped and thumped in every possible way. When I opened my eyes, I was completely turned around. My backpack was dangling haphazardly in the crook of my arm. My shades were hanging by a prayer off one ear.

Such a smart and graceful girl! Oh, the places you’ll go!

Argh!

I sorted myself quickly, practically asphyxiated by extreme smells. Whiffs of eau-de-vanity designer colognes battled with sniffs of eww-de-teenage-sweat all around me. As if the one-two assault on my olfactory nerve were not enough, loud and obnoxious cheers-slash-taunts pierced through my earbuds, obliterating Lifehouse’s Exhale, straight to my auditory nerve. The already lousy second Friday afternoon of my senior year at Clover High was really getting on another nerve—my last one!

Get out! Clap. Get out! Clap. Get out of Lena’s way! Clap.

Are you blind? Clap. Are you deaf? Clap.

Get out of Lena’s way, freaks! Clap. Clap. Clap. The cheerleaders applauded each other’s brilliance.

Yeah. I’d rather be a blind, deaf freak than a Pompom Peon like you! A brave soul—more than likely, a newbie to the school—exclaimed in indignation an arm’s length away from me.

A wave of ecstatic hooting erupted from those of us not wearing a cheerleader uniform. The noise from slaps of high fives was still resonating when The Queen made her entrance, waving her squad aside with a flick of her hand. Glare on, eyebrow up, attitude on full blast. Abruptly, smiles turned upside down and non-Pompom Peons scampered quickly away. Head down, tail between the legs. I was fortunate enough to have a light post for cover. It didn’t cover much, but it was more than enough. Had I been in direct line of Lena’s ire, I would have been zipping, too. Like a bat out of you-know-where!

Someone’s elbow connected with my right ribs, as something hard and pointy made contact with my left kidney. I sighed. It was so typical of my so-called life. I quickly covered my protruding body parts as discreetly as possible, then with nothing else to do, I watched the Pompom Posse push everyone aside to make way for Lena. Unbidden, my thoughts boldly went where the rest of me would never dare to go.

Hmm…if a genie appeared before me right now and gave me one wish, would I wish to walk in The Queen’s Jimmy Choos? It took me all of ten minutes to get ready for school each morning. I was sure it took Her Majesty waaaaay longer than that just to put her face on. A few minutes to trim the ‘stache. A couple more to pluck the unibrow.

Omigawd! I chuckled at the visual. I was wearing my usual dress code of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. Basketball shoes, to be specific. Girl-with-Shoe-Game was the name bestowed on me freshman year. Thanks to my friends, Zeke, John, Matt, and Adam. Somehow, a pair of the latest release just showed up on my kitchen counter. In my size. Magically. Bippity-boppity-shoes! I laughed at my own cleverness. Sometimes, I totally amused myself.

Look out! Someone yelled loudly, the words dripping with fear.

Runaway board! Another warning rang out, amidst eardrum-splitting screams.

With a grin, I turned towards the commotion. The scene that accosted my eyes made me swallow my gum, as icicles formed quickly in my veins. In slow motion, I saw everyone scrambling to safety. A group of girls a few yards away from me got out of the way, sheer terror on their faces. Romeo, about to lock lips with Juliet, had enough sense to postpone the kiss and quick reflexes to hurl them both backwards, dodging whatever was hurtling at high speed. Even the old woman with a walker being pulled by a three-legged dog with a cone around its neck managed to dodge it. Everyone within hurting distance got out of the way.

All but one.

Me!

By the time my brain had processed the scene, it was too late. The runaway skateboard seemed to have me on its crosshairs. Panic crammed down my throat, as the gum made its way back up my esophagus. I stood there, rooted to the sidewalk. All I heard was Mom’s voice echoing in my head over and over and over.

If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all!

Crapshootduck! I was going down for having nothing good to say about Lena—in my own head?!

You’re just lucky that way.

I slammed my eyes shut, sucking air noisily through my nose. I steeled myself, helplessly waiting for my impending doom. As my life flashed quickly before me, I heard an eardrum-shattering, bone-crunching crash. And that was it. Nothing else. The pain that was sure to come to me commanded one thousand and one percent of my concentration.

Angel!

I heard a deep, masculine voice, call out loud. Probably St. Peter himself calling an angel to scrape up my dead carcass off the pavement!

Nope. You’re not that lucky!

You’re okay, Angel, you’re okay! The voice was suddenly next to me.

I tried desperately to surface from the fear that had already half-drowned me, but I couldn’t.

I’ve got you! His arm was around me. His breath tickled my face.

I tried to flip my eyes, flick my tongue, even flap my sorry chicken wings. But shock seemed to have glued shut every single one of my moving parts.

His arm tightened around my waist. Open your eyes, baby.

Baby?! Whaaat? My eyes popped open and my heart thumped erratically in my chest. Instinctively, I did a quick inventory. Legs, arms, neck, head. Whew!

Everything accounted for, Sexy Voice confirmed quickly, a hint of amusement in the observation.

Overwhelming relief should have passed through my body right then…but all I felt was a bone-chilling, lightning bolt of embarrassment. Because in my mind, the little bit where I did a quick flyover my body parts, was all supposed to be a mental exercise—as in all done inside my own head. Instead, here I stood. My chicken wings were flapping all over my frigging self!

You are the epitome of class and sophistication.

I turned away from him quickly, feeling the heat on my cheeks.

It missed you, he said calmly.

Silently, I went through my contact list, idling on each one wielding a Y-chromosome. I saw each face, heard each voice, and summarily dismissed each one.

Wow! Fifteen seconds, flat!

Gah! Sometimes I wish I could turn off my own dang head to spite my own dang brain!

Angel? You’re okay, baby, you’re okay.

Angel? Baby? Who the heck—? But before I could scrape up enough courage to look at his face, he turned me away gently.

See? It’s dead! He pointed to the would-have-been weapon-of-my-destruction now lying upside-down on the lawn. The mere sight was enough to cause an upheaval in my stomach.

Hey, guys!

Someone ran to us then, squeezing smack right in between, mercifully distracting me. I was moving my head to the rhythm of the upended skateboard’s wheels!

Could you be more pathetic?!

I commanded my foot to kick my sorry sass but like everyone else around, it ignored me.

Luke, dude, that was awesome! Mr. Squeezer could barely get the words out of his mouth. He was breathing hard. Really hard.

Wait! What?! Did he just say—? Gulp!

Yep. Luke Hillman. Clover’s favorite son. Here to save the pathetic girl from death-by-skateboard!

I ignored the voice, stepping discreetly to Mr. Squeezer’s right, trying to steal a teensy-weensy look. Why would a hunk like Luke Hillman be wasting his time with a chunk like me?

Brett, dude, you need to be more careful! He chastised softly but firmly.

Holy Mother of Hunky McDunky!

I didn’t know if my jaw made some noise as it hit the ground hard, but Hunk of Dunks leaned to his left and caught me gawking at him. He stepped closer to me, as Brett Dude took a step towards him, instantly blocking his way.

Luke was Mongolia.

I was China.

Brett was my own personal Great Wall.

As if! Why would anybody want to invade your China? Duh!

I looked away quickly, shoving errant thoughts out of my brain.

Luke, dude, I thought she was a goner, for sure!

Goner, for sure? Of course. Story of my life. It was simply par for the course for something like this to happen. On a Friday. To me! It was a Friday afternoon when Adam announced to all of us that he and Lauren were together, ripping my heart to shreds.

Adam. One of my very best friends. The One who was supposed to fall madly in love with me. The One I was supposed to marry…someday.

A shiver ran through me before I could stop it. I knew my face bore the pain in my heart. I felt the intensity of Luke’s eyes on my face, then the warmth of his arm around me.

It’s alright. I’ve got you, Angel.

I swallowed hard. I knew I should move—away—but my feet refused to heed the command from my brain.

Hey, Girl-with-Shoe-Game, are you okay? Brett inquired belatedly, squirming in his Vans.

I offered Brett a quick smile. At least, I hoped I was smiling. In my head, I was frowning severely. Was Luke Hillman’s arm really around me? I stole a peek from under my lashes, but he caught me again. He smiled sheepishly, making a grand gesture of removing his arm from my waist. He put both hands in his back pockets, tucked safely behind him.

Obviously, what I thought I was only asking in my head…wasn’t only happening there. Argh! I had another urge to kick my own stupid butt. Fortunately for me, Brett chose that moment to apologize, saving me from more shame. The self-inflicted kind!

I am sooo very sorry! Are you okay? He was increasingly getting shorter than me.

I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I noticed the angry-looking bruises on his arms and knees.

I hit some sh—

Dude! Luke stopped him quickly with a growl.

—iz on the ground and went airborne! Brett was down on one knee, clasping my right hand to his chest. I’m so glad you’re not dead!

Dude, get up! Get up! I was pulling him up to his feet and snatching my hand away in one, quick motion.

I heard Luke laugh softly so I turned to him, ready to unleash my death glare. But his eyes were focused quite intently on the sidewalk.

Wow! The ground you stand on is waaaay more fascinating than you!

I knew I didn’t have the right to. I knew it was so totally insane. Yet, here I stood, completely insulted from head to toe! I averted my face with a huff, turning my unpracticed, unsophisticated charm on Brett.

Run, Skater Dude, run!

Except he wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. He was looking at Luke, totally absorbed in giving a recap of every frigging detail of the stupid frigging incident.

Lucky for both of us, my man, Luke, was walking by. Well, actually, he was walking across the street.

It was official. To disaster within a five-mile radius, I was a total magnet. To Hunk of Dunks, Skater Dudes, and everything guy, I was completely inconsequential.

Don’t forget invisible!

I pitched a loud sigh.

Luke caught it. Bare-handed.

Brett, dude, let’s not bore her with the details, he discouraged Brett’s increasingly passionate account, throwing a quick glance at me.

Brett plowed right on, turning to me. Did you see it?

See what? I was hoping to deflect Brett’s attention. My mind was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that I stood in the presence of Luke Hillman, Hunk of Dunks.

But Dude wasn’t about to let it go. Did…you…see…it?

I glared at him, insulted at the way he was talking to me. Yet instead of calling him out, I just shook my head.

Are you shi— he caught himself, grinned at Luke, then stared at me, —izzing me?

What? I blurted. His stare was starting to freak me out.

Dude, let it go! Luke covered his grin with his T-shirt, baring his abs. His eyes were once again glued to the ground.

My knuckles suddenly tingled with a need to get up-close and personal with his two…four…six…pack.

Fortunately for him, Brett distracted me with his incessant yapping. You really didn’t see it? Not a dang thing?

I frowned at Skater Dude, taking in his black and white plaid shorts, skull-and-crossbones emblazoned black T-shirt, black socks, and black Vans. But before I could argue myself out of saying anything, I heard myself explaining to him, I sort of had my eyes, um, closed.

Scared you out of your effing mind, huh? Brett said, grinning.

Duh! I almost peed in my pants! I slapped my hand over my mouth as soon as the last word was out.

You. Did not. Just. Say. That!

I shot a quick look at them both. Hopefully, they didn’t catch my little outburst.

Mothertrucker! Brett was bent over, arms across his stomach, laughing his head off. She almost p-peed in her p-pants!

Oh, I think dude caught it.

Crapshootduck! I stared at my shoes, wishing my Kobe 8 Preludes to sprout wings and take me far, far away.

Luke tipped my chin up, his eyes were twinkling. Ignore the hyena.

Then he put his hand back in his pocket with