Under the Influence

By Andrea Arce

Beverly is a teenager trying to fit in with her peers.
Dj her new friend has the same problems.
Dj is duplicious, her secret aim is to get Beverly into her lifestyle. Beverly with her need for friendship and acceptance is worldly naive. she fell heavily into Dj's way of life. An evening of drinking and dancing, they are in a fatal traffic accident. in hospital, Beverly becomes aware that her family situation has changed. Her therapist gains Beverlys trust and it flashbacks her life. follow me through Beverlys life and see what her future brings.
Josephine M.R Graham
writer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palibrio
• Release date: Oct 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781463366872

Book preview

INDICE

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

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

Andrea is a multi-talented young lady whom I had the privilege of teaching in both 7th and 8th grades. She clearly demonstrated her love for literature and writing in various ways during those years. Having worked for so long to complete this novel and seeing it to completion is something that makes everyone who knows Andrea very proud of her. I have no doubt that young people will enjoy reading it.

Profesor%20Gerhardt%20photo.jpg

Mr. Gerhardt

Literature teacher

Hollywood Academy of Arts of Science

(Miami – Florida)

When you walk through life with care to recognize the different skills, abilities and talents that God gives people talents that are a more exposed or more hidden than others because you could be facing the next legend history offers.

There have been many talents as a singer , musician , producer and composer I’ve found , discovered and trained throughout my career, it’s like a pearl and diamond search some worked more than others which deserves urgent attention and support.

I met Andrea at the age of 6 when her legs just hanging halfway to the pedals of the piano and as her first teacher though, I knew I was heading to a very special , a precious pearl, a multi-talented diamond without sculpt, to be important in the world .

I share experiences with reputed names such as Placido Domingo, Emilio Estefan, Francisco Céspedes and others and today I want to recognize the immense talent of Andrea Arce and I recommend her book that is sure to be talked about.

Carlos%20la%20Salvia%20photo.jpg

Carlos La Salvia

Singer, and Music teacher

Miami- Florida

Throughout my 30 year artistic career, traveling and performing on the stages of Mexico, Russia, and the United States, I have met many talented artists that will always be in my memory. That is the case with Andrea Arce, a beautiful girl that shows how not only adults teach our children, but they teach ourselves at times.

I’ve gotten the chance of being her friend and her performing arts teacher. And to see Andrea’s talent was not common, I invited her to perform in a play with me.

She performed as my daughter, and the amount of applause and praise Andrea received was extraordinary She is, no doubt, a shining star with her own light.

Few children stand out as much as Andrea, besides being an extraordinary actress, her musical ability is brilliant when playing the piano, she has left more than one with an open mouth. It doesn’t stop there, she dances very well, speaks various languages and the most important of all, she retains that beautiful childish innocence being much more than a valuable diamond. When I found out she was writing a book, I knew from the start it would be amazing. She has the gift of god to achieve what she proposes. Excellent daughter, good actress, outstanding student, good musician, and more. Anyone who is a worthy art appreciator, should not only meet the little Andrea Arce, but should support the talent she has, which makes her definitely one in a million.

Carlos%20Gastelum%20photo.jpg

Carlos Gastelum

TV and Theatre actor

(Miami – Florida)

There is no loftier mission than to approach the Godhead more nearly than other mortals and by means of that contact to spray the rays of the Godhead through the human race.

-L.V. Beethoven in a letter of 1823

CHAPTER 1

Oh my god! I exclaimed with the bags in my hand.

I walked all the way home with the five bags and dropped them off. I had spent $30 for my total on six jackets in the flea market. It was getting cold, and my mother and I needed them. My mother was making socks, shirts, and pants from knitting so we wouldn’t have to spend a lot of money. On the way to the therapy office, I was walking calmly, and I saw someone familiar. I knew the person because I had seen her before. Then once I started to get closer, I found out who it was. And so did she. I turned around to walk the other direction, but she ran toward me.

Beverly! How are you? I-I haven’t seen you since… Deejay… you know, Leila exclaimed, approaching me on the street.

I’m good. I haven’t seen you in so long too. You look so different, I said softly, looking down.

Good, good. So, Bev, how are you and your mom? Leila asked, changing the subject.

My mom and me? We’re actually better—way better, I replied calmly.

That’s good, she said, sighing.

How, um, how is your mom? I asked, crossing my arms.

She is all right, Leila replied, looking down at her shoes and at mine.

Well… I’m late for… you know, I asked, embarrassed.

Yeah, so I’ll, umm, talk to you later… Leila replied, her voice wandering off.

Yeah, sure… later, I replied, leaving the spot.

I left the spot where Leila and I had been talking. I heard her yell good-bye. I just kept walking. It was too painful to see another part of my past there. She looked so healthy, but still sad inside. I couldn’t believe that she mentioned her. No one mentioned her except my therapist. Not even my own mother mentioned her. I looked back at Leila; her pricy high-heeled shoes made clicking noises when she left. I looked down at my shoes—dirty and messy as ever.

I had to get those memories out of my head. That’s why I visited the therapist so often. She actually helped me recover. Next year, I might even go to school again. I finally reached the therapy office. I walked slowly and signed myself in. I walked to my room and waited until Ms. Rogers was ready to take me.

Ms. Rogers opened the door and was with another patient. She kept a conversation with her, then the patient finally left. Ms. Rogers looked at me and smiled. She waved for me to come in. I followed her directions and went on inside. I sat down on the red couch and sighed while she came in and sat down.

So, Beverly, I have some news to tell you, Ms. Rogers sighed while she explained.

What’s wrong? I asked, looking interested.

Well… I have been offered another job in Maryland, and I’m moving there tomorrow night, Ms. Rogers explained.

But you’re my therapist! You’re the only one that understands me! How can you be moving so quickly! I exclaimed angrily.

I meant to tell you before, but I just—so my replacement will be calling you in two days or so. She will be your new therapist, if you like, Ms. Rogers explained.

Do you recommend her to be my new therapist? I asked, looking down.

Yes, I do! I would really like for you to take a class with her, and if you like her or not, that’s your choice, Ms. Rogers said confidently.

Okay… well, you know… I got to go, I said, getting up.

But… Beverly, you just got here, Ms. Rogers exclaimed, getting up.

Yeah, but I have to think things over. Thank you anyway, and good-bye. Good luck in Maryland, I said, hugging her.

Oh, Bev! I will miss you! I’ll see you again soon! Ms. Rogers exclaimed.

Yeah, soon, I replied.

I didn’t like that word soon. It stuttered on my tongue before I spoke it. Soon—it meant not later. It was a word I began thinking was useless. Because I never saw anybody soon. Everyone… everyone left me. Soon wasn’t a word for me anymore.

I left Ms. Rogers’s room and left the therapy office. Once I got out, I walked slowly home. I looked around my neighborhood. It was so different from my other one. I used to live in a wealthy neighborhood. Two- or even three-story houses all lined up in one huge line of wealthy and rich people. Kids strolled by in their fancy-brand dresses and suits. Parents climbed into their valuable cars and went off to their important, high-ranking job. Mothers walked as if they were queens, and even little girls walked as if they were princesses.

Now in this neighborhood, you were just a girl or a boy. Whichever you were, it didn’t matter if you were rich or poor. They treated you the same. My mother, she got used to it, and of course, I did too. My mom was used to being called miss and ma’am, but here in this neighborhood, they just called her by her name, Jessica, or even sometimes Jesse, which she got used to. My father—well, I don’t even want to think of him.

I walked to my house. Finally, I got there! My house was small and comfy. It was a brick red house that had only one room. I slept in the closet, and my mom slept in the room. The living room and kitchen were combined in one. There was no dining room. It had only one bathroom, and it usually didn’t have hot water to shower with. My mom said that it was the only house she could actually pay for. I had to get a part-time job.

I took out the key from my pocket and opened the front door. My mom was sitting on the couch watching television and knitting a sweater. She looked at me and smiled.

So how was the appointment? my mom asked, unaware of my mood.

Not that good. Ms. Rogers is moving, I replied, sighing and sitting beside her.

Whoa! Where is she moving? Mom asked, looking concerned.

To Maryland. She got a better job offer there, I replied, sighing.

Well, is someone going to replace her, or are you going to just stop the appointments? she asked, stopping knitting.

Someone is going to replace her, but I’m going to take a class first to find out if she’s okay or not, I said, biting my lip.

Are you okay with that? Mom asked, continuing to knit.

I don’t know, but I just don’t feel comfortable having another therapist. I’ve been with Ms. Rogers ever since… you-know-who. So I just don’t feel comfortable telling my story to another therapist, I explained quietly.

So what if you like her? Will you still stay or—? Mom asked, not finishing.

If I like her, then I’ll probably stay. Well, enough of that. What are you making? I asked, changing the subject.

I’m making a sweater! Winter is coming soon, and I don’t have enough money to buy each other coats! I traded some food down the street for these heavy yarn balls, my mom explained.

Well then, when is Rebecca coming back? I asked, changing the subject to a delicate one.

My mom looked at me, surprised that I would mention her.

Honey… I told you, when Rebecca and I fought, she said she wasn’t going to come back after all I did to her. But the good thing is, Katerina forgave me, and she’s willing to come out here for a couple of days! my mom replied, getting her surprised face off.

That’s so good that Katerina is accepting it. But wait, Mom! She sent me a letter saying she was going to come back! I exclaimed, surprised.

She sent that letter months ago. If she had meant it, she would’ve been here by now, my mom replied.

So do you think she’ll ever come back? I asked.

What do you think? my mom asked, looking at the television and knitting.

I turned around in the sofa. I was just in a bad mood today. First of all, my therapist was moving. Second, Rebecca wasn’t coming—of course not, after all I did to her. The happiest part of the day was seeing Leila, and knowing that Katerina might come. But I just wasn’t over seeing Leila. I couldn’t believe I saw her! After all, we were best friends. We did everything together until she showed up. Then everything changed.

Go get the mail, honey! I forgot to get it, Mom exclaimed.

Okay, all right, I replied, getting up.

I walked outside my house and went to get the mail. I opened the mailbox and went through the mail. Nothing interesting. Then I saw another one stuck inside the mailbox. I dug my hand inside and got the letter. And guess who it was from? My father! Why would he send a letter to us? The last thing he said to us before leaving was Forget about me! Why would he send a letter? I closed the mailbox and ran back inside to give the letter to my mom.

Mom! I exclaimed, barging in.

What’s wrong? she asked while I sat on the couch.

I got a letter, I replied, panting.

Good! That’s what I sent you to get, my mom agreed in a confused way.

No, Mom. Look! I exclaimed, passing her the letter from Dad.

What? she whispered while opening it.

I leaned closer to her to read it. She opened it slowly. Then the letter showed. My dad had written,

Dear Jessica and Beverly,

I am writing this letter because I have found out I need to send more child support. I will be sending an additional one hundred dollars to the thousand dollars I usually give each month. I hope that is enough. Thank you.

Good-bye,

Kurt

That’s all! Mom exclaimed angrily.

He didn’t even ask us how we were! Or how is everything! I replied angrily.

My mom crumpled the letter up and threw it into the trash can. She rolled her eyes and continued knitting. Then all of a sudden, she got a worried look on her face.

What if the new therapist doesn’t lower the price like Ms. Rogers does? I won’t be able to pay for the classes anymore! Mom exclaimed, worried.

I doubt it. Ms. Rogers will probably explain everything, I replied calmly.

I don’t know, but if she doesn’t lower it, you’ll have to work more or stop taking the classes! Mom exclaimed.

I’ll do whatever! But I need to take those classes, I exclaimed.

Why do you need them? I thought you got over it, Mom exclaimed, confused.

I didn’t! I didn’t! And that’s why! I haven’t got over it! And I probably will never ever will! I exclaimed, getting up angrily.

My mom looked at me in a pitiful way, and then I ran to our room. I went inside the small closet and closed the door. I sat on my bed and looked around. I took out a photo album and began scrolling through the photos. My mom knocked on the door.

Mom, I don’t feel like talking. Please leave me alone, I said quietly.

Are you sure?