Color-Gifted (Color-Gifted, #1)

Chapter Four

AUTHOR'S NOTE UPDATED: I am currently working on other projects, one of which I am currently submitting to agents. I have finished this book, book one of an intended trilogy, BUT there are two important things to consider:

a) I have no immediate plans to complete this trilogy.

b) I wrote this a long time ago, and it is definitely, DEFINITELY not my best work.

But if, despite all that, you would like to read all of Color-Gifted--and that makes me very happy! : )--then read on : )

If you'd like to keep up-to-date with news of my journey to publication, you can always subscribe to my blog (you can find it on my profile) or follow me on Twitter, or just fan me here! And I'll be sure to let you know when I have news. In any case, thank you all for reading. Any comments and constructive criticism are very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy.

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CHAPTER FOUR

            “This is really crazy,” Myra says as we walk towards the Common Grounds, where apparently all the parties are held. “You—here. A Color-gifted. I mean, what are the odds? I never really thought I’d see you again after I moved away. And now I find you after all these years?” She looks at me and shakes her head, like it’s unbelievable.

            I nod, my throat constricting the tiniest bit. I understand completely. Then something hits, a distant memory I’d completely forgotten till now. I swallow and clear my throat. “Hey, do you remember that time in third grade when we hid Caitlyn Byers’ markers in her bag and she couldn’t find them?”

            Myra widens her eyes. “Oh, yeah! Remember how she kept looking under her desk, yelling, ‘I know I left them here, I want them back!’ and stomping her foot like the little monster she was? God, she was so loud. I get a headache just remembering her screeching little voice.”

            I laugh. “Oh God, yeah. But, she really was such a brat. I never liked her.”

            She huffs. “Obviously not. I mean, she was so mean to us. To everyone, really—just because her daddy was some self-important prick at this big law firm.”

            “Yeah. And remember when Ms. Fallowski asked her to check in her bag and she found them there—remember how red she turned? She really deserved that.”

            “Yeah.” Myra grins widely. “Good times.”

            “Definitely.”

For a few moments we walk in silence; I start to pick up the faint sound of music. “So, where's the party?” I ask.

“Ah, my friend—you and I may be new, but I know the right people.” She winks and leads me past the Yellow Point. “This way.”

I can hear the music, a low thud getting louder and louder as we make our way towards the Common Grounds. All around us, people are slowly heading towards the sound, laughing and teasing each other. My heart speeds up in excitement.

            “All the parties are held at the coffee shop, right next to the dining hall,” Myra explains. Night has fallen around us and the cool air makes me shiver slightly. She notices. “Don't worry, once you get inside, between all those warm, hot bodies . . . you'll be alright.” She grins wickedly. “We may be limited in numbers, but my sources say that what we lack in quantity, we definitely make up for in quality.” She winks, a mischievous glint in her eye.