Bounce

By T. E. Wade

Jenny had an amazing life. After a near-fatal car accident that killed her father and put her into a coma for six months, she had to restart her life with almost no memory of the past. But something happened in that coma, something wonderful that made her into the most capable and robust young woman in the entire school.
She breezed through high school and college, had the most amazing love life, and eventually settled into a fantastic relationship with Lizzie, her former coach and now the love of her life.

Then she died and things started to get really weird. Her purpose was now a mystery with missions spinning into her post-death life without warning but eventually she started to get the hang of it.

Her only question now was, would she ever see Lizzie again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. E. Wade
• Release date: Dec 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215876527

T. E. Wade

I'm an Australian-based author with a preference for speculative fiction. My ambition is to create stories across multiple genres and so far I have written Sci-fi, Supernatural, and international Crime mysteries. I'm now having a go at an Urban Fantasy story based right here - on the left- round the corner from where I live. Having lived in five different countries, my stories take place across the world, and some even venture out into the galaxy. But they always return, because the really interesting stories are about quirky people getting involved in dangerous situations, right here on good old planet Earth.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

IT PAYS TO be bisexual in my line of work. Though calling it a line of work doesn’t begin to describe what has been going on. If you stick around for a while, I’ll explain.

But first you should know more about me. Let’s go back to the time before I died, back to when I was just a young girl, two days after my fifteenth birthday.

We were on our way to a belated birthday present, a long-awaited outing to my favourite riding club, Saddle-Me-Up. The driver of the big delivery van had other ideas, as he fumbled around lighting his cigarette. I’ll never know if he lit up as he careened through a red light, killing himself and my dad and almost doing me in as he T-boned our little hatch back.

I spent three months in a coma and another nine months learning how to talk and walk again. I never remembered the accident, thankfully, but never remembered much about my Dad again either. He was a delightful man, apparently. He also had an enormous insurance policy, which made life a little easier for me and my mom, who now had to look after a young cripple girl, as nasty Uncle Bob used to say.

Something happened to me in that coma, not sure what, but it changed a lot of things about me and I’m not sure how.

A whole year after the accident, I started school again, a year behind my friends, none of who I remembered, luckily, because kids being kids they were really nice to me when I got back. Not!

Hobbling around school supported by two sticks and talking in a deep stuttering, groaning voice, forcing out each word with great concentration, did not really endear me to them or them to me.

Hey, retard. What’re ya trying to say huh! Come on, out with it. Imitative sound effects followed.

Lucky for me, and this time I’m not being sarcastic. My time in the coma, or something, had done a bizarre and amazing thing to my personality. Nothing they said or did affected me in any way, shape or form. I just didn’t care. Really!

I laughed, in a snorting kind of way, and hobbled off on my sticks, oblivious to the mental anguish I was supposed to be feeling.

As the year went by, a few wonderful things happened. I met Dave, two years older, who became something of a bodyguard - didn’t really need one - but he loved having an excuse to beat the crap out of bullies.

Plus, another coma side-effect. Before the accident I was the usual average performing, angst-ridden teen, who hated all the usual things teens hated, but now I had this amazing intellect. I remembered everything, understood everything, and loved the subjects most kids hated. Maths, science, you name it - I nailed it.

And there was more. As my legs started to work and the sticks got left at home, I started sport - in track and field no less. It was a slow start but by the end of my first year I was leading the school in long jump, hundred meters and four-hundred-meter hurdles.

Damn that skinny girl can run, I heard my coach say, more than once.

The next year I was seventeen and the only thing better than my sports performance was my academic achievements - the world was looking good. My bodyguard Dave had moved on to College, him being two years older, but I was just fine on my own. Never really needed a bodyguard, but I liked him a lot and as you’ll soon discover, he went on to become one of my best friends ever.

So the year cruised by and I ended up representing my school in the regional track and field champs - gold and silver - and academically I got top grades all round except for the subject I loved to hate, history - boo. Never mind, can’t all be perfect, and at least I scraped through a passing grade.

And then came my final year of school. I was just turning eighteen, a full year older than all my peers, thanks to the distracted van driver, and things were about to change in a big, big way.

CHAPTER TWO

I’M EIGHTEEN, IT’S a new school year and my last year before college. The world was looking good. Couldn’t wait to get back into track, but some things had changed over summer and some things just didn’t fit right.

But anyway, I kitted up and headed out for my first practice session of the season, and I was feeling good. Fitter, stronger and better than ever. Or so I thought. Sprint was fine, I was way better than last year and straight out of the blocks I did a personal best. But the long-distance events just didn’t work. My times were way under.

Coached pulled me aside and told me his assistant coach needed to have a word.

What about coach? I was worried. Was I off the team already?

He shook his head. She’ll tell you, Jenny.

Shit. I was being fobbed off. Not good enough. Assistant coach Miss Lizzie was fine, but she was not an ex-state champion and I wanted the best. I was about to march after him to tell him so when Lizzie grabbed me by the arm.

Don’t, she warned. He’s embarrassed.

What? Why?

You. She patted the seat next to her, so I sat, unwillingly.

I’ll remember this talk forever, literally.

You’ve grown over the summer, Jenny, a lot. Your body has changed, in good ways, natural ways. Do you understand?

Of course.

Well, you’re a woman now and need to dress like one. Have you not noticed the looks you’re getting?

I’d been so focussed on getting back to track and getting good times that, as usual, I just blanked out the world and did my own thing. I’m not sure I understand I…

Look at your shorts and now look at the other girls.

I looked and turned, and looked some more. Gulp. My Mother had commented before I left home.

But the other girls are all skinny and… I wasn’t sure what to say.

Miss Lizzie nodded. Yes, they are and not as developed. You need more appropriate clothes for track and you need to reconsider your events. Look at your sprint times - fantastic. Now look at your eight hundred - crap. Your new physique is better for power, for sprinting. Last year you were a string bean. What did coach used to say? Look at that skinny girl run. Not so skinny now.

I started tearing up, not from embarrassment, I never got that, but the thought of not doing track was like taking away a part of me.

Miss Lizzie intervened before I became a blubbering wreck and gave me a hug. You still have plenty of events to compete in.

I blubbered a bit but got over it quickly enough, as I got over most things.

Now you go home and get your mother to buy you some new clothes. And hey, you look gorgeous by the way, the other girls are jealous, and the boys can’t keep their eyes off you, now go. She slapped my butt in a coach kind of way and sent me off home.

Two days later I’m back at the track with a whole new outfit and both coach and Miss Lizzie smiled when I walked in. I had the whole kit and caboodle. New track pants, sports bra, shorts - two whole sizes bigger and, well, yea - they were right, everything just looked and felt better.

Now coach took me aside. "Let’s talk about your events. Hundred metres is fine but now I want you to think about two hundred and anchoring the one