Read Shift (The Neturu Chronicles) Online
Authors: Sarah Carter
Shift (The Neturu Chronicles)
SARAH KAY CARTER
SHIFT
Copyright
This book is a work a work of
fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the
writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed
as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or
organizations is entirely coincidental.
Shift
©2012
by Sarah Kay Carter.
All rights reserved under International and
Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have
been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the
text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced,
transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or
introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by
any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented
without the express written permission of Sarah Kay Carter.
Cover Design by:
Anmar Nevarez
Edited by:
Samantha Gudger
This book
would not exist if it wasn't for our early morning, major texting
session. So, thank you Heather Murphy (Kidd). You are my
writing....sidekick.
And to my husband, who always pushes me to be my best. I love you and
thank you.
Table of Contents
The alarm clock buzzes. Kayla’s hand shoots out from under the covers and slaps
it. The clock slides off the table and crashes to the floor, accompanied
by Kayla’s muffled groan from the bed. Five minutes later, a dance song
blares from her cell phone. Kayla emits a throaty growl as she sits up in
bed. She grabs the cell phone and turns off the alarm. “It’s too
early,” she mumbles to herself, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Why am I
so tired?”
Shaking her head, she throws the blankets back on the bed and swings her feet
to the floor. She sits on the edge of her bed for a minute, trying to get
the courage to stand up and start her day, but then she notices her feet. “What
the…” Picking up her foot, Kayla examines it. Her toes and the sole
of her foot are covered in dirt. Kayla growls and dusts the dirt off.
“Again?”
She stomps into the hallway. Noise filters up to her from downstairs.
“Mom?” she hollers.
It takes a second before Kayla’s mother comes around the corner of the steps
and sighs. “Good morning, Kayla, what’s wrong this time?”
“I think I’m sleepwalking again.”
Her mom furrows her eyebrows and rings her hands. “Do you remember
anything?”
“No,” Kayla grumbles. “But look at my feet. They’re filthy.” She
sticks out her foot for her mom to see. “I took a shower before I went to
bed.”
A heavy sigh escapes her mom. “Honey, the front door is still
locked. I think you’re imagining things.”
With a disgusted look, Kayla snaps, “Mom. My feet are covered in
dirt…like garden dirt. I keep my room as clean as a hospital.”
“Well, you aren’t bleeding, so I think you’re fine.”
“So you’re only going to be worried if I lose a limb?”
A gentle sigh comes from her mom. “Kayla, what do you want us to do, put
up cameras or an alarm?”
“No, but if I hurt myself, I’m going to be really angry.”
“Okay, honey, get ready for school. Tracy will be here in an hour to pick
you up.”
Crossing her arms, Kayla articulates, “If you got me a car, I wouldn’t have to
get a ride from Tracy.”
“Kayla, my dear, we have gone over this. When you graduate, we will look
into getting you a car.”
“Whatever, I’m going to get ready for school.” Kayla spins on her heels
and walks into her room.
An hour later, she is putting her jacket on as her dad comes out of the
kitchen. “Got all your books?”
“Yeah, of course, do you not know your daughter?”
“Yes, we know you’re a straight
A
student and are in
the running for valedictorian. You remind us every day.”
Kayla grins. “I have my calculus test today and I’m going to ace
it. I studied all night.”
“Apparently you studied outside too. Your mom told me about your feet.” He
chuckles.
“Aren’t you worried about me? Isn’t it weird?”
Her dad takes a sip of coffee. “I used to sleepwalk when I was your age,
and I turned out fine. I think it’s a hereditary thing.”
“Whatever, I’m going to fall off a bridge or something and then you and Mom
will wish you took it seriously.”
A honk sounds from outside. Her dad points to the door. “I’ll walk
you out.” They walk out onto the porch and see a blue Ford Focus. A
girl rolls down the window and waves. Kayla’s dad says, “Good morning,
Tracy.”
The curly-haired brunette smiles. “Good morning, Mr. Hendrickson.”
“I’ve told you to call me Jerry.”
“My mom taught me better than that, Mr. Hendrickson. Come on,
Kayla. I want to go through the drive-through and get coffee!”
Turning, Kayla kisses her dad on the cheek. “See ya later,
Pops
.”
“Have a good day, girls,” her father shouts behind her.
She runs down the steps to her friend’s car. Kayla opens the door and
asks, “Are you going to buy me coffee?”
“Shouldn’t you be buying me coffee? I’m the one picking you up.”
Kayla sighs. “Fine.” She pulls down the visor and opens the mirror to
check her makeup. Smiling, Kayla says, “Perfect.” Her eye shadow
makes the green of her hazel eyes pop. She fidgets with her long,
chestnut brown hair, which she curled this morning. Kayla turns her head
to check out the stripe of blue on the side. “I still can’t believe my
mom let me put color in my hair.”
“Girl, your parents are awesome.”
“They’re not bad. I say we try and talk your mom into letting you add
color to your hair.”
Tracy raises an eyebrow. “Hell would freeze over before that happens.”
“Hey, your mom bought you a car. My mom just let me dye my hair blue.”
“True. So did you do anything but study last night?”
Kayla rolls her eyes. “You know I have a calculus test today.”
“I have a test too, but I managed to do something else besides study.”
“Yeah, I bet you texted Bradley all night.”
Tracy wiggles her eyebrows. “You know it.”
“Girl, you never quit.”
“I make time for boys, unlike you.”
With a smug look, Kayla says, “I’ll meet smart, intelligent, awesome guys when
I go to
college
. The guys in our school are
stupid.”
“No one can keep up with you intellectually, huh?”
“Nope.”
They both laugh. Tracy leans over and cranks up the volume on the radio.
Both girls start singing to the music and continue until they arrive at
school. With their coffees in hand, they walk into the old brick building
of the academy. Kayla begged her parents to let her go to the private
school, and she’s happy they did because she met Tracy freshman year. Two
years later, they are inseparable.
“I’m going to head to French,” Tracy says as she turns around.
“Good luck on your test if I don’t see you before then.”
“You too,” Kayla yells after her. With a smile, she heads to her
locker. As Kayla turns the corner, something slams into her hand and her
coffee spills all over her arm. “What the…watch where you’re going,” she
snaps at the person in front of her.
When there is no response, she looks up and her eyes widen. The guy
towers over her petite frame by at least six inches. He is muscular and
very good-looking. His brown hair hangs in his face a little bit, but
what strikes Kayla are his eyes. They are almost exactly like hers, a
mixture of greens and gold. She hasn’t seen anyone else with eyes that
vibrant.
“Sorry,” she says slowly. “I didn’t mean to yell.” The guy just stares at
Kayla for a second and then walks past her. She watches him go.
“Who in the world are you?” she mutters to herself.
Annoyed, Kayla is almost late for class since she has to clean herself
up. The bell rings as she runs into the classroom. “Good job being
on time, Miss Hendrickson.”
Kayla sighs and slides into her seat. She takes a sip of her remaining
coffee and then sets the cup on her desk. Her teacher starts the day’s
lesson, so Kayla quickly retrieves her notebook to take notes. About five
minutes into class, someone saunters into the room, interrupting the lecture.
Kayla raises an eyebrow when she realizes it’s the guy she ran into who spilled
coffee all over her. He walks over to the teacher and murmurs
something.
“Oh, yes,” her teacher exclaims. “Class, we have a new student. His
name is Jackson Blakely. He actually comes to us from China.”
“You don’t look Chinese,” says one of the guys from the back of the classroom.
Spinning around in her seat, Kayla looks at him and snaps, “Really? I
thought this school was for gifted students.”
“Shut up, Kayla,” the guy retorts. “We can’t all be super geniuses.”
“Obviously,” a deep voice says from the front of the room. Everyone looks
at Jackson. He snidely remarks, “It was an astute observation that I am
not of Chinese descent. I have no idea how you figured that out so
quickly.”
Kayla snorts and laughs at the same time. The guy turns his gaze to
her. She is taken aback because of the annoyed look he gives her.
Shocked, Kayla stares back at him.
“Jackson, you can sit in the empty seat next to Miss Hendrickson,” her teacher
says, pointing to the desk next to Kayla.
Jackson walks over and drops into the chair. He puts his backpack down
and leans back. Kayla watches him out of the corner of her eye and sees
him look at her. She starts scribbling in her notebook, acting like she wasn’t
paying him any attention.
When the bell rings, Jackson nearly sprints out of the classroom. Kayla
shakes her head and follows everyone out the door. She throws her cup
into the garbage on her way to Honors World History.
When Kayla arrives, she
frowns at the sight of Jackson taking the seat behind hers. Standing in
the doorway, she tries to think of what to do before finally deciding to be the
diplomat. With her head held high, she crosses the room and sits in her
seat.
Turning around, she says, “Hi, I’m Kayla. I wanted to introduce myself
and apologize for earlier. I swear I’m not a bitch.”
“I wouldn't care if you were,” Jackson replies with a dead stare.
Kayla opens her mouth and then shuts it. After a second, she says, “I
wanted to at least say I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Jackson sighs with a rather blasé attitude.
“Yeah, anyway, I thought maybe you’d want to talk to someone with IQ points
higher than a caveman’s.”
Jackson stares at her. “What if I like talking to people from prehistoric
eras?”
“Then you’ll fit in well here.”
Jackson snorts. They sit in silence, just kind of staring at each
other. Kayla feels uneasy because she senses him studying her.
Finally, Jackson says, “You aren’t what I expected.”
“What?” Kayla asks, confused.
Jackson shakes his head like he’s trying to redirect his thoughts. “As a
student at this school, you aren’t what I expected.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Withholding emotion, he murmurs, “I don’t know yet.”
The bell rings, forcing Kayla to turn around. Her teacher claps his hands
to get everyone’s attention. “Today, class, we continue our study of East Asia,
specifically Japan. Did everyone do their homework?” Grumbling erupts
around the room. The teacher sighs and then looks at Kayla. “I bet
you did your homework, Miss Hendrickson.”
“Of course,” Kayla chirps back. Behind her, Jackson gives an audible
snort. She slowly turns and looks at him. He matches her intense
stare. Annoyed, she turns back to her teacher. “Yes, Mr. Finley, I
did the homework.”
“Good, then can you tell me when the first inhabitants occupied that island
area?”
Smiling, Kayla answers, “20,000 B.C.”
“Actually,” Jackson says, “It was 30,000 B.C.”
“Very good, Mr. Blakely,” the teacher responds. “Now, what was the first
written history of the Japanese people?”
Kayla is about to answer, but Jackson says, “The
Book of Han
,” before
Kayla can open her mouth.
“Mr. Blakely, you seem very knowledgeable. Did you read the assignment?”
the teacher asks.
“No, he lived in China,” Kayla declares sharply.
Mr. Finley nods his head. “Then maybe you can give us more information on
the history of the Eastern Asian countries as we go along.” With a smile,
he starts his lecture.