Fearless by Abby Brooks (best books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

breath fogged up the glass and I swiped it away, but still didn’t find what had her so excited.

“We’ve been looking at this all wrong. That house? It was a hint from the universe and since you didn’t take it, your second hint came with more oomph. You know, like losing your job?”

My jaw dropped at the magnitude of the implications. I’d been receiving hints from the universe. First Drew and the awful, terrible things he said and did to me. Then, the house. Now…my job…

It was at that point I realized I was drunk. When Amelia started talking about hints from the universe and I joined in, something wasn’t right.

She took the scenic route back to the couch and lowered herself with a sigh. “Maybe you’re supposed to move to this place. You have pics, right?”

Nodding, I cracked open my laptop and clicked on the images the lawyer emailed me after I got the letter, grimacing as I awaited Amelia’s swift and harsh judgement.

I didn’t wait long.

“You own a house that looks like that and you’re still sleeping on my couch? I mean, it has a name! Sugar Maple Hill.” Sighing dreamily, she swiped the bottle from my hands and took several long swallows.

“Sure it’s beautiful, but the communism…” That wasn’t the word I wanted. I blinked, listening to the hum of tequila whistling through my brain. Had that bottle been full when we started? It certainly wasn’t anymore.

“Community?” Amelia clearly had no idea what I was talking about but was eager to help anyway.

“The long drive. The commute. Commute!” I giggled. “That sounds weird, doesn’t it?” I tried out the word several more times just to be sure. “Anyway, it’s a gorgeous place but apparently, everyone in Wildrose Landing thinks it’s haunted.” I flopped onto the couch and leaned my head back, letting it roll to the side to stare at my friend’s shocked face.

Amelia shot upright and gripped my shoulders. “You’re trying to be fearless, and you inherited a haunted house! No wonder you lost your job! You weren’t paying attention to the signs! Evie!”

I didn’t believe in either ghosts or signs, but her exclamation points were contagious. I climbed to my knees and grabbed her shoulders in return. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so. And you know what else I know? We’re going to spend the weekend in that house. Your house. And we’ll bring all your things in case you decide to stay.” She pointed at the screen and shimmied. “I wonder if we’ll see the ghost. Ohh! I wonder if he’s like, a handsome ghost! How cool would that be?”

It’d be hard to find any evidence of a ghost, handsome or otherwise, because they didn’t exist. I considered saying as much, but the more Amelia shimmied, the more I wanted to join in. Haunted or not, moving to Wildrose Landing and starting from scratch would be a pretty fearless move.

Maybe I’d write a book.

Maybe I’d fall in love.

Maybe I’d find my destiny, waiting for me in a quaint New England town.

Amelia’s shimmy slowed. Her face turned a queasy shade of green. She hiccupped, then dashed for the bathroom.

Or…maybe we’d had too much tequila.

Chapter Two

Alex

It was a dark and stormy night. Come on, man. You’re better than that.

Moonlight caught in the rain and tumbled to the street. Now you’re trying too hard.

Rain blurred my vision and wind ripped leaves from trees as I scurried through the cover of darkness, my giant beast at my side. Right. Moving on…

“Why can’t I even take a walk without running into writer’s block?” I glanced at Morgan as his nails clicked across wet pavement.

The better question would have been, “Why was I walking my dog in the rain in the first place?” but I didn’t ask that out loud. Talking to myself wasn’t a trait I wanted to encourage.

With a wag of his shaggy tail and a quirk of his head, Morgan dismissed my concerns. Neither my clogged brain nor the rain pelting our backs bothered him. Meanwhile, not only did I have blank pages waiting for me at home, but I’d been too distracted to check the forecast before setting out on a walk to clear my head, so the two of us were drenched.

That sucked extra hard because my head remained anything but clear.

Raindrops sliced— Give it a rest, man!

Morgan paused to shake the wet out of his coat, hitting me with a deluge of dog-scented water. I returned the favor, leaning over to shake my hair his way. He thanked me with a sloppy, face-sized lick and I straightened just in time to watch a car careen onto the road.

Okay, careen was a strong word for the moderately discombobulated turn I witnessed, but my writer’s brain couldn’t help but amp up the drama. Which was pointless, because we didn’t need more drama than we already had. Morgan took care of that in spades. As the vehicle accelerated, my dog yanked the leash out of my hand and squirreled into the road because—I shit you not—a tiny, drenched kitten sat in the path of the car.

I stopped trying to narrate. There was no need for strong verbs or dynamic language.

The only thing left in my brain was, “NO MORGAN NO WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID DON’T DIE YOU MAGNIFICENT FURRY BASTARD!”

With a barbaric shout, I lurched after my dog and scooped up the kitten, finally understanding why deer went dumb in the face of oncoming headlights. As they bore down on me, Morgan’s life flashed before my eyes, with mine hot on its heels. It was a montage of memories complete with a sappy soundtrack coming from the vehicle that would end it all.

The car careened for real, swerving off the road and stopping catawampus on the grass, while I stood blinking, wide-eyed, heart freaking pounding, clutching a shivering ball of black fur in the middle of the road. I shifted the kitten under my coat to warm him as Morgan trotted over and sat