Originally posted by Renee Scattergood:
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Seventeen-year-old vampire-hybrid Alena Scott can’t seem to catch a break. Not only does she fight her natural instincts with a controlling cheer captain, but she’s also the target of the school bully. These aren’t half her
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Keep reading for an excerpt:
“Morning.”
The curtains swooshed open and light poured into my room. I mashed the feather pillow into my face wishing she would disappear.
“Can’t I be homeschooled. Or at least try online high school. One year. I’ve only got one year left.” I extended my arm towards the ceiling and
“You know what your mother would say.”
“Does she remember what it’s like to be a teenager? Can I get a replacement for her? Or at least a refund?”
“Now Alena. You know you don’t mean that.”
“You’re wrong.” I sat up and let the pillow fall
“I have fresh flowers for you and the ribbons for your hair all laid out.”
“Ugh! I can’t believe they are making us wear uniforms the first day of school.” I flung the white silk cover from my legs and swung my feet to the floor.
“It’s a ribbon.” Elizabeth held up the red satin piece. “At least it’s a good color. That bright orange at your last school was hideous.”
“Don’t remind me of Cal High please.” I crossed my room and took the ribbon from her tapping my phone to check for a message from Kylee. She’d come up from San Ramon the past weekend and we’d bought matching outfits. We’d made a pact to text a selfie when we got dressed for school.
“Do you have your outfit picked out?”
“Yes.” Opening the door to my closet I lifted the black pants and silk top off the bar.
“Your mother approved it?”
“Last night.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll make your breakfast. Orm will have the car ready to leave in—” Elizabeth lifted her wrist “—fifty-five minutes.”
My hand went to my hip. “The car? I thought I could ride the bus.”
“Mother’s orders. LA is not like San Ramon.”
“LA is not like San Ramon.” I mouthed as I retreated to my bathroom. Synching my hair back tight in the elastic, I started the water and washed my face. Switching schools senior year felt like torture. I’d had thought Mother would have learned from the debacle of my eighth-grade
Brushing my hair out, I parted it on the side and braided the front portion, weaving the red ribbon through the design. They could dictate what I wore but not how I incorporated it. Pulling on my pants and shirt, I stood in front of the mirror to check my look. Lifting my phone, I snapped an image and sent it to Kylee. I gathered my shoes and backpack and headed towards the kitchen.
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