FARAWAY

By Nicholas Palmeri

The biggest problem high school senior Asher Sullivan faces is dealing with the aftermath of a humiliating daydream about his school crush, Grace. That is, until he stumbles upon an old newspaper clipping featuring a murder investigation that had gone cold. Maybe Ash becomes so absorbed in the case as a way to take his mind off Grace, as his best friend suspects. This particular case does pique Ash's interest though, even if a part of him knows his friend is right. When Ash decides to open his own miniature investigation, he finds himself in more peril than he could ever imagine: Ash gets sent to a war-torn country called Dero. Navigating Dero proves both dangerous and thrilling as Ash fights to return to the place he calls home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889820871

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

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

About the Author

cover.jpg

FARAWAY

Nicholas Palmeri

Copyright © 2023 Nicholas Palmeri

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

ISBN 979-8-88982-086-4 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88982-087-1 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

For Grandpa Mike. I miss you.

Chapter 1

Grace's flowing chestnut-colored hair moved with the rhythm of the seaside wind. Ash cupped his hands over his lips and called her name. He waved, his arm slashing the air like a knife through warm butter. At the sound of his call, Grace took off toward him like a racehorse.

I've missed you so much, Ash said. The Bahamas would've been ten times better if you came.

Grace shrugged. The past was done. Well, Delaware wasn't the same without you. She jumped into Ash and wrapped her soft arms around his neck.

The grass beneath her flip-flops straightened, having been given a chance to breathe.

Ash never believed this sort of joy existed. Laughter billowed out of Grace as Ash swirled and twirled her. Neither of them paid any mind to the setting sun, a signal that both should start heading home. But tonight was different.

Owls hooted in the dusk.

Wouldn't it be great if we could stay here forever? Ash said into her ear.

I wish, she agreed.

He pushed back to examine her face. A pearly white smile curved her lips. Ash felt like a feather, as if all his responsibilities no longer had a need of being addressed.

Ash set Grace down and they laid on the grass. Dusk had gone, and then came a night lit up with a hundred stars. He pointed to the shiniest star of them all, the most luminescent, if he was to use his extensive vocabulary.

That one is Polaris. Ash took her hand.

I see it, she confirmed.

That star is a symbol of hope.

Here we are, talking about stars. Grace giggled.

His next words couldn't have been more truthful: I'm glad we're together.

She began to speak, but a thunderous bang rattled Ash. His eyes widened as Grace's face morphed into a creature no eye should bear to see.

Mr. Sullivan!

Loose, gray bags hung beneath a pair of sharp blue eyes. What had been Grace's luscious skin turned sour.

Grace, Ash said, where did you go?

But Ash realized his mistake, and his face was flushed. The boys around him were dying of laughter.

Quiet! Class will not be halted just because of a… Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you copy down these notes. I'm not writing them for my own health!

Ash's government teacher, Mrs. Maffeo, stood behind her metal desk. Ash picked up his pen and copied, horrified at his stupidity. He felt Maffeo's eyes melting his own.

She wasn't the prettiest specimen with her bent nose and yellowed teeth, a result most likely of the carton of Marlboros that hung loosely out of a pocket of her purse.

Ash's face was slimy with sweat. His peers failed to stifle their laughs if they had even put in the effort to do so. He suspected they hadn't. He wanted to wipe the mocking smiles off their faces.

Worst of all, he couldn't bear to look at Grace, who faced him from across the room. Light protruded from the column-like windows and illuminated the girl of his dreams like a spotlight in a theater production.

With little help from Mrs. Maffeo after her initial request for silence, the class eventually settled. Ash was mortified. He was glad to have put the embarrassing moment in the past, but he dreaded the consequences.

The tormentors of Whitewater Charter School would not let a tale like his fade to memory, he suspected.

The moment laughter stopped, Grace collapsed to tears, slammed her spiral bound notebook, grabbed her bag, and stormed out of the classroom.

That morning, he had made a promise to himself that he would speak to Grace. But his confidence had slipped down the waterfall of fear that opened to the lake of rejection. Each footstep that brought him closer to his government class had only electrified his fear. He had wanted to avoid taking the normal trajectory to his seat, the path that completely bypassed Grace's. If he wanted her, he knew he must be courageous, but his fear stole away that desire.

Mrs. Maffeo ignored her departure. Make sure this is all in your notes. It won't be written on the board tomorrow.

Blank stares were as much a response as she got. The class patiently awaited the bell.

In the blue-tiled hallways, kids whose lunch periods had just ended flooded the halls, taking on the behavior of monkeys on the loose.

Animals, Mrs. Maffeo muttered.

She opened the door to relieve her students. An aroma of stale burgers and old applesauce wafted into the poorly ventilated classroom.

Mrs. Maffeo was adamant about releasing her students at the ring of the bell, not a second before. As she waited for it, a barrage of sailor words were passed between the kids in the halls. Then beet red in the face, a tall student belched right in her face. The stranger's ragged hair shielded his identity as Ash tried to see who the culprit was. No one in the class could hold it in then. Ash prayed his slipup dwindled in light of this new story, but he doubted it. A belch wasn't juicy enough.

Some nights, Grace invaded Ash's thoughts before he slept. He'd lay down while bumping his head to heavy metal tunes as a sort of distraction to her presence. No matter how hard he tried to push the image of her away, Grace lingered a little longer.

As Ash escaped, he hurried with his chin tucked against his chest. However, he could go no further in the halls packed with students anxious to get to their next period classes. The jammed hall was impossible to maneuver in without brushing against somebody. Now he was squished between a buff student and a bulletin board.

Frustrated, he inhaled and put all his force in one great shove.

What's your problem! the guy shouted.

Ash kept his eyes locked on the tiled floor, but spectators blocked his escape route. He realized his error immediately; the kid he shoved had a football nestled in the crook of his left arm. He wore a navy-blue jersey.

You think it's okay to push anybody around here? The kid tossed the football to a red-haired friend of his.

He backed Ash against a bulletin board; his backpack had crinkled his fellow peer's displays of excellence.

Get off me. Ash was teary-eyed from his breath.

What will you do if I don't? The football player's fist soared into the locker inches from Ash's skull.

Over his shoulder, Ash caught students passing dollar bills to one another followed by handshakes.

I'll ask you again. Do you think you could push anyone around here?

The first hit was a warning. The second was meant for him. The football player had released his grip a little on Ash's collar so that Ash ducked, a swift move on his part, and escaped the devastating blow.

That is enough! Principal Olin yelled.

Horror-struck, the spectators bolted.

You both are coming with me. The rest of you get to class.

Ash's peers parted, but most of them tossed glances over their shoulders. He and his assailant walked behind the principal to his office. He dreaded his mother's reaction and the punishment she was sure to inflict.

Hurry it up, you two, Principal Olin beckoned.

His office was at the end of a short, narrow corridor like that on a cruise ship. Claustrophobia, a fear of Ash's since childhood, crept to the surface of his mind.

Ash had never been inside this room. Principal Olin's long desk was cluttered with multicolored folders and binders.

He came after me first, the football player cried.

Principal Olin palmed his eyes. Tom, I don't give a damn who started it. You know behavior like that will never be tolerated in these halls.

But—

I thought someone on the football team would have more sense.

That silenced Tom.

Principal Olin rounded his desk, shuffled through a black folder, and extracted a sheet of official-looking paper.

He gave it to Tom followed by a blue pen. Try not to stab me with it.

Tom rolled his eyes. He began writing without question as if it wasn't his first time filling out an accident report.

Once you're done, hand it to…

Ash.

Yes, Ash. Now the two of you will sit here quietly while I notify your parents. Principal Olin left the room.

Tom stacked his arms over his broad chest. He and Ash inhaled air ripe with tension, but luckily the principal returned sooner rather than later.

While we wait, I think I'll finish a novel I've been reading.

Tom shifted to the end of his seat and said, But I still don't understand my wrongdoing. It's called self-defense.

One more word and you won't have to worry about your championship match!

Shouted into silence, Tom handed the accident report to Principal Olin, who then withdrew a second sheet.

Ash leaned at the edge of his seat, took it—a gel pen—and began to fill it out.

Forty minutes later, the span of a class period, Principal Olin kicked his feet off his desk and closed his thick novel. Wow, what an ending.

Ash glanced out the window and saw dark clouds rolling over their seaside Delaware town. He looked at the principal's diploma from UC Berkeley perched high on the mahogany wall.

A quarter hour later, it began to pour outside.

I'm sorry, Tom insisted again, having put a buffer of an hour from his first plea. I should've handled myself better.

The principal placed a finger to his lips. I don't care, he whispered menacingly. You will be suspended for a week.

But what about my championship game? It's this Tuesday.

You can complain to me all you want, Tom. This isn't the first altercation you've been involved with. You promised you would quit landing yourself in trouble, but now I know better than to listen to the words of a hormonal teenager.

Ash smirked. He was positive the big, bad football star would cry at any moment.

There came a knock on the door. Principal Olin opened it.

Thomas, what did you do?

The mother, Ash assumed, wore a yellow raincoat with boots of the same shade. Without a peek at the principal or Ash, she pinched Tom's left ear and yanked him out of the room. Ash rubbed his nose, a smile hidden beneath his hand.

Don't laugh at him, Principal Olin told him. He stacked some marble notebooks in a pile. I hope this doesn't become a habit.

"I promise it won't. Today was just a bad