Awakened: A YA Science Fiction Romance: Gods and Guardians, #1

By C.J. Anderson

An oddly perfect balance of teen romance and action-packed sci-fi adventure.

 

Buckle up for an electrifying journey where superpowers, extraterrestrial secrets, and an unbreakable cosmic connection collide. C.J. Anderson's award-winning novel, Awakened, weaves a tale of love, power, and unearthly truths that unfold against the backdrop of the Ozark mountains.

 

Meet Dru - a 17-year-old with monstrous abilities, a legacy from a clandestine experiment by extraterrestrial beings known as Drakkon. Seeking refuge on Earth, he conceals his true nature with his refugee parents, Lo and Zane, who possess extraordinary powers themselves. Their mission: to safeguard Earth from forbidden extraterrestrial visitors.

 

Enter Alayna - a seemingly ordinary high school student whose life takes an extraordinary turn when she discovers her own supernatural abilities and a mysterious connection to Dru. As their relationship blossoms amidst the chaos of high school, they are thrust into a conflict involving otherworldly creatures and Alayna is forced to grapple with the truth about her origins and powers.

 

But the story isn't just about love and adventure - it's a journey of self-discovery and acceptance as Alayna and Dru face internal struggles with their evolving identities and external battles against the Drakkon and other non-human entities. Themes of identity, trust, and power dynamics within supernatural communities weave through the narrative, creating a story that transports readers into a world filled with magic, advanced technology, and fantastical elements.

 

A note from the author:

Welcome to the 10-year anniversary 2024 updated edition of Awakened! Whether you're a new reader or a returning fan, I'm excited to share this unique version of my debut novel with you.

 

This edition arose from a milestone in my journey as an author—a decade since I embarked on this indie publishing adventure. Originally penned in 2014, 'Awakened' has undergone a captivating transformation. While the core story remains unchanged, I've meticulously revised and added new elements to enrich the reading experience.

 

For those familiar with the original, fear not—this isn't a complete overhaul but rather a celebration of growth and creativity. Inside these pages, you'll discover new scenes, additional chapters, and refined prose that elevate the narrative while staying true to its essence.

 

Whether you're delving into the world of 'Awakened' for the first time or revisiting it with fresh eyes, I hope this updated edition captivates and inspires you. Thank you for joining me on this exciting literary journey!

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.J. Anderson
• Release date: May 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224231430

Book preview

Chapter 1

The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.—Alan Watts

Dru

Adrenaline courses through my veins with an intensity beyond comprehension. My upper arms and back feel like someone is drawing a picture with the pointed end of a hot poker, searing lines into my skin. I look down at my arms to see blue-green light snaking down and around my biceps, following the line drawn by the scorching pain.

Mesmerized by what is happening to me, I run a finger over the skin on my arm, examining the design. Somehow, my body is transforming. Spikes, three-dimensional, with sharp edges, protrude from my shoulders. My now-iridescent skin transforms; rigid scales cover my body like armor.

Liquid metal pools in the pockets of my skin, forming sharp incisors that slice through my gums. With them comes an intense hunger for blood and flesh. An awakening power surges within me, making me feel alive in a way I didn't know was possible. Hunger surges through every muscle. Power courses through every vein in my body.

Power. Hunger. Need.

I push the girl against the cold brick wall of the alleyway. Her piercing scream elicits an ominous baritone growl out of the depths of my throat. My sharp thumbnail grazes across her neck in a slicing motion that draws fresh blood. I feel the blood pumping fast as her heart pounds in her chest.

Staring into her wide eyes, I lick my lips in anticipation and lean in towards her, baring my razor-sharp teeth, intent on tasting her blood before ripping the delicate flesh from her bones.

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One year later.

The narrow, two-lane highway snakes between the bluff's edges, hugging the jagged shelves of timeworn rock rising on my left. Sunlight reflects off the metal post of the guardrail lining the other side of the road, momentarily blinding me. Reaching up, I adjust the visor. A long strip of newer metal hangs between the older sections. Beyond the boundary, whatever had lost control must have barreled through the barrier, knocking trees out of the way, carving a steep craggy path through the wooded hill. Rotten luck.

Cor blimey! Usually the tinkling sound of bells, Lo's melodic voice, instead, is tinged with worry.

I quickly glance at the passenger seat. She's facing the window; two dainty hands clutch her chest right over her heart, as if it were broken and she could hold it together. Quirking one side of my mouth up, I gently nudge her arm with my elbow.

I wouldn't want to put on airs, but I'm a damn-good driver. And with my powers, I could always use my telekinesis if things go wrong.

Taking hold of her long platinum braid, she drapes it over her shoulder and turns away from the window. Lavender eyes, large and kind, find me, an expression of acquiescence filling her heart-shaped face.

Of course. That's why I asked you to drive Zane and me into town today. She smiles.

I shake my head.

Somehow, I have a sneaking suspicion it's your attempt at a 'family day. I make air quotes, my smirk widening.

Lo is my mum and Zane is my dad, but I've always addressed them by their first names. Zane has been in the back seat the entire time and has yet to say a word. It's par for the course for him. Electronics are his speciality and he's connected twenty-four seven to them. Having electronics for best mates makes him a bit awkward, to say the least. That is, he isn't exactly what one would call socially adept. I'm quite positive that most people who meet him wonder if he might be a robot.

Lo continues to make small talk, but I block her out. Nearly a month ago, we moved for what seems like the millionth time. Of all the places in the bleeding universe, we've landed in the smack dab middle-of-nowhere USA. Otherwise known as the Ozarks—quaint little towns nestled in between hills, rivers, lakes and … nature. Nature every-bloody-where. For fuck's sake, in order to get to a large city like I'm accustomed to, we have to drive at least three hours!

A weathered green metal sign, adorned with white letters, announces the town of Riverside—Population 2000. As we round the bend in the road, nestled snugly among the steep hills, the town comes into view. Trailers, modest houses, and businesses line the narrow streets that wind around the community, each one seemingly trying to find its place on the hilly terrain. The streets climb up and down, twisting and turning like a maze, branching off from the main highway that runs through town.

As we drive deeper into town, I notice a faded brown awning hanging limply over an entryway, barely hanging on by a few threads. The words feed and store are visible on it, though some of the letters have fallen or faded away. Just beyond this worn establishment, we turn right onto Main Street. It stretches for four blocks ahead of us, lined with old two-story brick buildings that hold memories of a time long gone by. A mix of small businesses and local services can be found along this quaint street - a post office, hair salon, cafes, and thrift stores.

Suddenly, red lights start flashing and black and white arms descend on either side of the railroad crossing ahead. I come to a stop and shift into neutral as a loud horn blares in the distance. The train roars by, sending vibrations through the tracks that continue to travel through the street. The heart-shaped crystal ornament Lo hangs from the rear-view mirror shakes, looking like water in a shallow pool, mirroring my growing agitation as Lo brings up the subject of school.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I ask, Do we really have to talk about this now?

We need to sort this out, Dru.

Lo's persistence in discussing this matter only serves to irritate me further.

I've already told both you and Zane, I will not be attending! I huff.

Reaching over, Lo places a gentle hand on mine. Come on. You know as well as I do that once you start something, it always gets better.

I push her hand away. So, what? I'm supposed to do what? I yell. Go to high school, try to fit in, pretend that I'm like everyone else … graduate so I can go to university, only to keep up the charade that I belong here? We all know that I can NEVER have a normal life as long as we're here!

Perhaps you're just anxious about starting a new school. Although I'm being obnoxious, Lo keeps her calm—words tender, resolve unruffled. I put them through this every single time we move, and I start a new school. I honestly don't know how she puts up with me.

My knuckles have turned white from my vice-like grip on the steering wheel. I am NOT anxious about ANYTHING, I argue. There is just NO point in me going to school. I'm bleeding tired of this godforsaken rock, that's all.

Sighing, Lo's gaze returns to the passenger side window. Looking up and down the sidewalk, she attempts to change the subject.

I can't believe we are just now going to take a gander in this cute little town.

I throw both hands up in frustration. What is the bleeding point? I say. It's a bore and in case you didn't catch it before, we-don't-belong-here!

Zane—sitting so quietly in the backseat of our Jeep that I almost forgot he was along for the ride—replies, The question is not what you look at, but what you see. Of course he would pick one of my favorite quotes by Henry David Thoreau. I'm sure the wanker thinks he's quite clever. What a load of bollocks!

The train clears and I drive across the tracks to the other side of Main Street, turning into an angled parking spot in front of the row of buildings on the right.

That's it. Zane points exaggeratedly at an old two-story red brick building in front of us.

A large picture window features an oversized espresso cup, outlined in dark brown. Swirls of steam curl out of the top of the cup; the stylized words, Espresso Yourself, are scrawled across the inside space of the etched design. Using only my middle and index fingers, I flick a V upwards from my wrist, knuckles facing away from me - a good ole British two-finger salute, given to nobody in particular. Espresso this!

I turn to Zane, who's now out of the car, and roll down my window. The smell of grilling burgers wafts in from a neighboring restaurant.

I think I'll wait in the car and chill.

Zane mutters, We'll get you something to go. With a thud, his car door shuts.

Hand-in-hand, Lo and Zane walk toward the entrance of the coffee shop. Zane's tall, lithe body, button-up shirt, and disheveled hair contrast with Lo's small stature, delicate bone structure, and graceful presence. Chimes tinkle as they enter through the doors.

My eyes wander to the seating area visible through the large picture window. A girl with blonde hair pulled back into a long ponytail walks up to a lone table, eyes the laptop sitting there, and scrunches up her face into a questioning expression. She wears a faded gray T-shirt with red lettering spelling out RHS Running Club. Eyes still on the laptop, she sits down facing the window.

As I watch the girl through the window, a sense of guilt washes over me. I know it's wrong to be staring at her like this, but I can't help myself.

My eyes are drawn to her, unable to break away from her magnetic presence. I let out a heavy sigh as I struggle to shake the feeling that I know this girl from somewhere, but where and how is a mystery to me.

The soft sunlight filters through the window and illuminates her delicate features, making her appear even more ethereal. My gaze continues to linger on her, mesmerized by her beauty and captivated by the indescribable connection I feel towards her. My fingers tangle in my hair as I try to calm my racing thoughts, sinking back into the plush headrest in frustration.

After a moment, the ring on my right ring finger feels hot against my skin—so hot it threatens to sear the flesh underneath. Impulsively, I bring my hand up in front of my face, and turn my wrist back and forth to examine both sides. The silver band shimmers blue. The star tetrahedron inset on top pulses; the pieces grow and shrink several times like a two-dimensional shape transforming into a three-dimensional object, finally materializing into a holographic, star-shaped Merkaba.

At the same time, my lungs are on fire. I feel like I'm being pulled under the ocean current—my feet are lead blocks and I'm sinking fast. I can't breathe. It's as if that girl, whoever she may be, is the only thing keeping me alive. She is my oxygen, my lifeline. She has a hold on me and it's like time is standing still.

Then it's over.

Everything is back to ordinary.

What just happened? Our rings aren't meant to transform, and the physical sensations I experienced … well, that was just completely odd. Had I fallen asleep and begun dreaming?

In an attempt to clear the static in my mind, I shake my head. Then, shutting my eyes, I inhale a slow, deep breath. Once my lungs have expanded fully, I blow all the air out, measured and calculated, then turn the stereo on, and go to my happy place.

The pop of a door being opened brings me out of my trance and I hear Zane shout, Bagsy! He slides into the front seat before Lo gets a chance, and grins as he hands me a plastic beverage cup.

Grasping the cold drink and wobbling it side-to-side, I can hear the ice rattle, mixing up anything that's settled to the bottom. Relieved to have something normal to draw my focus away from the strange events I'd experienced, I stab a straw through the lid and guzzle. It's the perfect balance of rich espresso and velvety dark chocolate.

Thanks. This is quite good, I say.

Zane nods. No worries, I know you fancy these!

The few minutes zoning out to the radio had been spent arguing with myself regarding whether or not to go inside to talk to the girl. I couldn't think of what I would say, so sitting in the car had won out. Besides, I still couldn't wrap my head around what had happened with my ring.

As I'm backing the Jeep out of the parking spot, I realize what needs to be done. Without giving myself a chance to change my mind, I blurt, I've been thinking about it … and you two are absolutely right. I do need to attend school. I must find the girl from the coffee shop and talk to her.

Zane grins. Crikey Moses! That is well good. Well good, indeed. He pats me on the shoulder.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I see Lo's eyes wide and her mouth hanging open, a look of shock painted on her face. In the past it's taken a lot more arguing and bad attitude on my part before I've given in, and I've never ever said they were right!

All the way home, I can't shake it. This feeling I have, it's more intense than anything I've ever experienced, and I have experienced a lot of intensity in my life. I really want to believe it's intuition and not just my head filling with silly ideas. But doubt creeps in—What if she doesn't like me? What if I'm not her type? What if it's like the last time I liked a girl and it turns out to be a literal disaster? Maybe I've gone completely mad.

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Alayna

Mom's suggestion of a mother-daughter night, though endearing, feels a little like a ruse—a carefully orchestrated diversion from whatever I'm certain she and my brother have planned for my birthday. They both know I don't like surprises, but I know they can't likely help themselves. Especially Mom. after all, a girl only turns eighteen once and I'm sure she'll want to make it as special as she can for me.

We settle into the booth of a local diner. Burger Time has the best burgers in Riverside.

Her hair, bleached to a bright blonde, cascades down in loose curls around her face. The heavy layers of eye make-up and bubblegum pink lipstick seem almost garish against her delicate features. I can't help but wonder why she bothers with all the artificial enhancements when her natural beauty shines through without them. Her hair, left unaltered, is a rich chocolate brown with natural honey-colored highlights that catch the light. Even with her hair dyed to match mine, we couldn't be more different in appearance. She towers over me by at least six inches, her skin always a warm, golden tan while mine remains pale and easily sunburnt. Her eyes are a deep shade of brown with flecks of butterscotch and gold, while mine shine with the bright turquoise hues found in Bisbee stones. I've always assumed my physical traits must come from my father's side of the family. I've never met him, though, so I can't say for certain.

As we sit at the booth, our differences are clear as day. My mom is dressed in a shimmering, silver dress that clings to her figure, paired with sky-high heels. In contrast, I'm wearing a simple pair of faded jean shorts and a plain black T-shirt, my hair pulled back into a ponytail. But it isn't just our clothes that set us apart; our personalities couldn't be more different either. My mom is always the social butterfly, never short on words or stories to share. And me? I am content to listen and observe, always the quiet one in the room. As she chatters on about school and my upcoming departure for college—wherever that might be—I try my best to appear engaged while my mind wanders. I haven't even decided on a college yet, but anything would be better than being stuck in this small town forever. Beneath my attempts at normalcy, I can feel a storm of emotions swirling around inside of me, unsure of what the future holds for me outside of these familiar walls.

Alayna, sweetheart, you're miles away, Mom observes, her voice laced with concern. Is everything alright?

Not wanting to burden her with my real thoughts, I deflect. Just worried about Uncle Trace, I say. He had left without a word a few days ago and no one has been able to reach him since.

He hasn't disappeared like this in years, Mom adds, sharing my concern. But he must have a good reason. He wouldn't miss your birthday otherwise.

I nod absentmindedly, swirling my straw through the cold soda in my glass. The bubbles rising to the surface match the fizz of anticipation building inside me. I hope you're right, I say. I just…I thought he had changed. It made me feel better about leaving for college, knowing he was staying out of trouble.

Alayna, how many times do I have to remind you? Your uncle is not your responsibility. Mom's words are kind but firm.

The restaurant is abuzz with the sound of clinking glasses and boisterous laughter, but I can't seem to join in. My mind is elsewhere, caught in the gravitational pull of the future and what was yet to come.

My eighteenth birthday should have been a joyous occasion, but all I could think about was how behind I felt in preparing for college. I had narrowed down my top schools, but beyond that, I was stuck. Every time I sat down to make a decision or fill out an application, doubt and anxiety crept in, and I couldn't seem to push them away. It wasn't procrastination or fear of failure; it was a strange gut feeling that something wasn't right. So here I was, avoiding making any concrete plans for my future, hoping that time would bring clarity.

My phone chimes, breaking the silence. I glance down at the screen and see a text from my friend Christie. She wants me to stop by Espresso Yourself to pick up my birthday gift. My mom's eyes flicker to my phone as I show her the message, and a small smile tugs at her lips before she quickly looks away. I can tell by her reaction that my suspicion is correct—she is in on whatever surprise they have planned for me.

By the time we step outside Burger Time, the sun has started to dip low behind the undulating hills of Riverside. The sky is a masterpiece of fiery oranges and dusky purples, painted by an unseen hand. The air is thick with the scent of sizzling burgers and freshly cut grass, a sensory overload that invigorates us as we make our way down the sidewalk towards Espresso Yourself.

The neon open sign flickers up ahead like a beacon, the letters casting a warm glow across the pavement. The coffee shop, my part-time haven, is a charming anomaly nestled among the Ozark hills—a place where steam and laughter mingle with the scent of roasted beans and ambition. As we approach, memories swirl around me like a thick fog rolling off the hills. This cozy nook, with its old brick walls that add character, had been a refuge, and it's another thing I'm struggling with regarding moving on with my life after high school. Espresso Yourself isn't just a job, it's like a second home. The significance isn't lost on me—between these walls are where I'd found pieces of myself between cups of cappuccino and heart-to-hearts with regulars, where I'd learned to harness the vibrant spectrum of my empathic abilities amidst the clatter of ceramics and silverware.

I've never really told anyone about this before because I'm pretty sure they'd think I was crazy, but it's like I have some sort of sensor that can detect emotional energy. Sometimes I can even see colors associated with it. It used to overwhelm me, and sometimes it still does. But at Espresso Yourself, I was able to know what people needed and help them in some ways. Sometimes they literally only wanted their coffee. Other times, they needed something as simple as a smile and a kind word, other times, they needed someone to listen. The more I used my ability in this way, the less scary it was and the easier it was to manage as well.

With a gentle push, the door to the coffee shop swings open and the chimes hanging above tinkle playfully. Suddenly, a chorus of Surprise! erupts, causing my heart to skip a beat. I slowly step inside, and my eyes widen in amazement as I take in the scene before me. The room has undergone a complete transformation, now filled with colorful balloons floating in every corner, like planets in a galaxy. Streamers crisscross the ceiling, creating a canopy of vibrant hues that seem to dance above our heads. And on the floor, confetti sparkles like fallen stars. But what truly captures my attention is the spectrum of emotions bursting forth in a kaleidoscope of colors. A mixture of joy, excitement, and love swirl around me—tangible and alive.

Happy Birthday, Alayna! The voices of Christie and Lizzie rise above the rest, their arms wide open for a hug. Lizzie's Boston Terrier, Daisy, wiggles excitedly at our feet; she's even wearing a tiny little party dress and birthday hat adorned with glittering stars. Each step she takes causes the sequins on her dress to shimmer.

You guys! Tears prickle at my eyes as the reality settles upon me. They had done it; they had truly surprised me. Not just with the party itself, but also with the attention to every small detail. The colorful streamers hanging from the ceiling, the personalized banner with my name spelled out in bold letters, the delicious scent of cake floating through the air.

I take a moment to look around at all the familiar faces—friends, coworkers, regulars from the café—all here for me on my special day. The sound of laughter and chatter fills the air, creating a lively and joyful atmosphere.

It was all Lex, Lizzie pipes up.

I turn to see my not-so-little-anymore brother towering over me. Just like Mom, Lex and I are about as opposite as you can get. Where I have light skin and blonde hair, he has tan skin, the color of caramel, and dark-brown hair that falls effortlessly into his golden eyes. Where I'm short and petite, he stands tall and strong—even though he's only fifteen years old.

So, were you actually surprised? He asks.

I nod my head, unable to contain my smile. I knew you were planning something, but you know I hate surprises. I never expected you'd be able to pull off an actual surprise party here, at Espresso Yourself. And look at all these people who came to celebrate with me. My heart swells with gratitude and happiness as I look out at the sea of faces, each one representing a special connection in my life.

A shit-eating grin appears on his face, and he extends a hand toward our mom. Pay up, he gloats.

I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated groan. Lex, did you seriously go through all of this just to win a bet?

He shrugs nonchalantly. Of course not, sis! But you know what Uncle Trace always says.

I nod knowingly and let out a sigh. Yeah, never let a good opportunity go to waste.

Exactly! Lex beams.

The mention of a good opportunity has me thinking about Uncle Trace again and wondering what in the world he's gotten himself caught up in this time. But my thoughts are interrupted by Christie's sunny smile directed at me.

What? Do I have something on my face or something?

She laughs playfully. No, silly. You just look so much better than you did this morning. I mean, you looked like death warmed over.

I furrow my brow in confusion. Christie can be a bit scatterbrained at times. Maybe she has the day mixed up with another one. I wasn't in here this morning, Christie.

She shrugs. Are you sure? I could have sworn it was this morning. I even made you a special birthday drink and everything. Suddenly her eyes widen with realization. It had to be this morning because that new couple came in while you were here, and they had accents. They seemed really nice. I thought you'd like them. But when I went to get you to introduce you, you were gone.

Suddenly, Jayla's familiar voice breaks through the chaos coming from the screen of a laptop. Hey there, Birthday Girl! Her bright smile illuminates her face as Patrick's wink follows suit, appearing in his own digital square. Despite the distance, their presence somehow warms up the whole room.

Convinced that Christie is just having one of her airhead moments, I turn towards the laptop to face them. You guys! You found a way to come to my birthday party, even though you're miles and miles away!

Wouldn't miss it for the world, Patrick declares dramatically yet sincerely.

Even if it's only through a screen, Jayla adds with a smile.

I missed you guys! I laugh with genuine joy.

A chime sounds, indicating a new notification on Lizzie's phone. She quickly glances at the screen before giving Christie a meaningful look. My emotional sensor picks up on their tension, a thick fog surrounding them.

What's up guys? I ask, feigning nonchalance despite sensing an underlying tension.

Lizzie shrugs, her eyes darting away from mine. Nothing.

I snatch her phone from her hand and see what has them so on edge. A live stream of my arch-nemesis Gretchen's annual extravagant birthday bash. Gretchen and I have had issues for as long as I can remember, not to mention she's a spoiled brat who likes to rub her parents' wealth in everyone's faces. At least our birthdays are in August, before school starts. Because it would have been an even bigger spectacle at school had her birthday fallen during the school year.

Christie jumps in, thrusting a brightly wrapped box towards me. Open my gift first! she insists, trying to distract me from the live stream drama.

Rolling my eyes, I hand Lizzie back her phone and take the gift in my other hand. You don't have to hide it. Everyone knows it's Gretchen's birthday today, including me. But I have nothing to be upset about. Look at all these people who care about me.

Relieved looks pass between Lizzie and Christie, and I eagerly rip open the packaging to reveal a book titled—The Secrets of the Universe-100 Symbols. This isn't a typical gift from Christie, who is known for her creative and unique presents like handmade jewelry or paintings.

This is from you? I ask in awe.

She grins and nods. I remembered how much you enjoyed talking to that tourist last week about this book, so I made a note to get it for you.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I wrap my arms around her. Thank you, Christie. I love it!

Open mine next. J says. Mom has it.

I turn to Dixie with a smile, and she winks at me. How about we have some cake first, and then open gifts?

I nod in agreement. Sure.

Everyone joins in singing Happy Birthday and then Dixie gestures to the beautiful cake lit with a six-by-three array of candles. Make a wish, Alayna.

Taking a deep breath, I lean forward and make my birthday wish amidst the warmth of those gathered around me—the weight of eighteen years, my unspoken dreams, and the love of my friends and family fueling me. I wish for clarity and direction in choosing my future path. With a gust, the candles extinguish, and the applause shatters the spell.

Lizzie hands me a knife to cut the decadent cake, and as I slice through each layer, laughter and conversation fill the air. The warmth from their love surrounds me like a cozy blanket.

As I pass out slices of cake, I take the opportunity to personally thank each person who came to celebrate with me, especially my regular customers. Their presence means so much to me. As soon as everyone has their plates in hand, I make my way back to the table where gifts are displayed.

Hayden, the warm and welcoming owner of Espresso Yourself, places an envelope filled with cash into my hands. A gift from your loyal customers, she announces with a beaming smile.

I am overwhelmed with emotion as I open the envelope and count the bills inside. I can't believe the generosity and support from them. With tears welling up in my eyes, I continue opening my gifts. Patrick and Lizzie have gifted me a beautiful set of handmade products from Etsy, each adorned with a dazzling array of colors and sparkles that resemble a kaleidoscope. J's present is equally stunning—a candle that not only smells divine but also resembles a vibrant nebula, garnished with sparkling quartz crystals on top. The gifts from Carlos and Luke, Lex's two best friends, cause me to burst into laughter. Carlos has given me a comical coffee mug that reads I'm not saying it was aliens, but it was aliens. And Luke's gift is a poster that reads I want to believe.

I see a common theme here, guys. Thank you so much! I exclaim with gratitude, feeling overwhelmed by their thoughtfulness. It's not about the material items they have given me, but rather the fact that they truly understand and accept my quirks and passions. It's an indescribable feeling.

As I wipe away happy tears, Lex hands me a package wrapped neatly in brown paper. It's the last gift left, and I eagerly unwrap it to reveal a colorful painting inside. Lex, who is usually known for his sketches in his notebook, has painted a breathtaking celestial scene with bold strokes of black, pink, blue, and purple, creating a stunning galaxy. On top are the words trust the universe written in elegant cursive.

My heart swells even more as I stare at the painting in awe. I place it gently on the table and pull my brother in for a tight hug.

Thank you, I whisper, the words choked by a swell of gratitude. My heart expands, ready to envelop the entire room.

Here's to new beginnings, I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. And in that instant, surrounded by the vibrant hues of affection and camaraderie, I believe anything could be possible—even for a small-town girl with the universe at her fingertips.

Chapter 2

Though free to think and act, we are held together like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. These ties cannot be seen, but we can feel them.—Nikola Tesla

Dru

Preoccupied with thoughts of the coffee shop girl, I've hardly slept at all for nearly a week. My mind has replayed the scene at least a thousand times—the transformation of the star on my ring, the sensations of burning, and the feeling of the girl … like I've known her forever, like I've been waiting for her forever, and the most disturbing thought of all, that she belongs to me.

I decide the best course of action today is simply to be myself. Well, at least to be as much of myself as I can without causing alarm in the human population, that is. Whatever happens, happens. My only hope is that I can deal with whatever the consequences may be.

I have a lot of time to kill, so I head out for an extra-long run. I finally head home to my large bedroom, which takes up the remainder of the space in the basement, after the sizeable mudroom and bathroom. Several windows look out to a beautiful view of hills that go for miles off into the distance. This morning they're tinted purple with the sunrise reflecting off the morning fog. We've lived all over the world and, somehow, I've never seen anything quite as stunning. It's more than the way the landscape looks, though. There's something about it that almost makes me feel like I could belong here.

Almost. I still hate it.

After I shower, I throw my towel into the bin and quickly dress in a pair of jeans. Rummaging through my T-shirts, I find a couple of my favorites. I briefly consider the I Like My Girls Like I Like My Dubstep T-shirt, but I worry that if anyone around here even knows what dubstep is, dirty, filthy & grimy might not make a good first impression. I settle on my Dubstep Revolution T-shirt instead. It's a better fit, anyway. I work hard to get abs like these, so I may as well show them off.

The smell of fresh pancakes wafts down the stairs, finding my nose. My mouth waters and I head upstairs to the kitchen. A wooden dining room table sits parallel next to the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen from the living and dining areas, but I prefer sitting on a barstool. Lo slides a plate of pancakes and a protein smoothie to me. It tastes good as long as I don't think about what's in it. Lo is a complete health freak, and I don't even ask anymore.

I'm about halfway finished eating my breakfast when I see the syringe in Lo's hand. This, unfortunately, is a daily ritual I must go through for the safety of those around me. A ritual that I hate. A ritual that makes me hate myself, because it reminds me of what I really am. Laying my right arm out on the bar counter, I'm ready for my daily injection.

I finish breakfast, and I'm about to head out the door, when I realize that I forgot my mobile downstairs. I concentrate on the place where I left it, and it comes floating up. When I see it reach the top landing, I hurtle it faster toward myself, catch it, and stick it in my pocket. I kiss Lo on the cheek, grab my keys, and head out to my motorcycle.

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Alayna

I promise you I am going to love you more than anyone could ever love anyone in the entire universe. I wake up with a start. I've had the dream again. I've actually had it every single night for the past week, starting on my birthday. I've always had visually vivid dreams but never audible ones, never recurring, and never feeling so real, almost like it's a memory.

Picking up my phone, I see it's almost time to get out of bed anyway. Today is the first day of school and it's a Thursday, which is ridiculous considering that Monday is a holiday. I'm really not ready for summer break to end. There are too many books to read and ideas to contemplate and people to avoid. If only school could start next Tuesday, then I could have five more uninterrupted days of unstructured downtime. Well, mostly uninterrupted anyway. I still have two shifts to cover this weekend at Espresso Yourself.

I've just finished getting ready and I open my jewelry box. I contemplate wearing the ring mom had given me for my birthday.

After my party, we had come home, and that's when Mom had given me a small, wrapped package. When I opened it, she had explained that she had kept it all these years to give to me for me for my 18th birthday—it had been my stepdad's. It was a simple silver ring etched with a star-shaped tetrahedron. Ron had worn it on his finger, but she'd placed it on a chain so I could wear it around my neck.

It had been ten years since Ron had … left us.

Ron had always been in my life from my earliest memories. He's Lex's dad. I don't know who my biological father is. I always called Ron Dad and accepted him as such, and he never accepted me as anything but his daughter.

When I was eight and Lex was five, his motorcycle was discovered mangled in the river. His body was never found—he was presumed dead. There was a memorial service, and a gravestone was even set in the cemetery.

Nevertheless, I've always held out hope that by some miracle, he was still alive. I think Mom did at first too, but eventually she let go.

Either way, our lives were changed forever by his absence.

The moment I had taken the ring out of the velvet-lined box a week ago, memories flooded back to me—of happy days spent with him, laughing. But along with those memories came a pang of loss that I had buried deep inside since childhood. I remembered him wearing the ring, but hadn't thought of it in years. He used to wear this ring all the time, but then he was gone and so was the ring. I never thought I'd see it again.

As I reach out to touch it now, the familiar feeling of grief and longing resurfaces in my chest. With a heavy heart, I close the box and turn away. After all, the first day of school would be challenging enough. It always was. Being surrounded by so many people, their excitement radiating off them, was overwhelming for someone like me who could feel others' emotions so intensely. The scary thing is, I don't know how to process this information, so when their emotions would mix with my own, I would overload and crash, like the hard drive of a computer. Crashing, for me, though, would come in the form of a panic attack. Different emotions created different kinds of waves—unfortunately, excited first-day-of-school energy was one of the most volatile kinds. Yep, today was going to be a struggle, and I didn't need any additional emotions to deal with.

Grabbing my backpack, I head out into the hallway and stop by my brother's room to knock. Lex! No answer. I try again. Lex! Again, no answer and so I push the door in to see he's nowhere to be found. I sigh and shake my head and head to the kitchen for a quick coffee before I have to leave for school.

I can't believe my baby is a senior in high school. Mom's distinct hillbilly twang stresses the words baby and high as she calls into the kitchen from the porch. The door is open, and she's lighting a cigarette. She takes a drag and blows it out. It seems like just yesterday I was a droppin' ya off for your first day-a kindergarten.

Yeah, so about that, Lex apparently is already gone, so you won't be able to get your first day of school picture.

She blows out a