Welcome to the Wattpad Block Party - Winter Edition IV!
Round SEVEN of this popular event is coming your way the entire month of February 2018 and it's going to be epic! The invites have started to roll out and everyone from your all time favorite W...
As many of you know, I've been neck-deep in an intense editorial process for The Book of Sam. After a year, it is almost complete. I'm sure every writer says this—but unlike me, they're all filthy liars—but the new draft is a completely different and more realized novel. A new beginning, a new ending, a more comprehensive history of Hell, more Sam backstory and I removed like 10,000 things. In some instances, I've rewritten the same sentence 20 times only to end up with the original sentence. That's writing, amirite? Amirite? AMIRITE?
I'm proud to present to you the first two chapters of The Book of Sam. My hope is that the yearning for more is so intense that you find yourself mired in an existential angst that burns your soul and renders you useless at your job or school or to those who rely on you. My lesser hope is that you simply enjoy the story, characters, and world sparking an interest to read more. This is why it's good to have two hopes and not just one.
Your Pal,
Rob Shapiro
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Chapter 1
Harper James
Where is she, I thought, as I sat on the steps of my front porch, a safe distance from the noise of my family. Inside my house was the pounding of a PlayStation controller amid video game gunfire, heavy feet running up and down stairs and rising above all that was my dad, screaming at my mom about something I did or left on or forgot to put away or something. I didn't pay much attention to it, lost in my own head.
Harper was almost an hour late. The plan was to go to Queens Quay to board a ferry to the Islands. There, we'd spend a night huddled around a bonfire at Ward's Island. I'd been looking forward to this night all week, the first where Harper didn't have family stuff or cheerleading practice or a model UN meeting.
I leaned back, my elbows pressed on the wood, trying to see around the Frazier's house, hoping Harper would pop into view.
I hadn't seen her since Justin Breslow's party last Friday. His parents were in Las Vegas, so he announced to the entire cafeteria that there would be a party at his house. Since I was eating alone in the corner of the room, I was officially invited. So, I went—and by went, I mean I stood in corner, talking to Harper as she fended off guys trying to press up against her. I walked her home and before we parted, I asked her if we could hang out on the islands next week, one of her last before she was to leave for Paris on academic exchange. I also applied for the same program and was swiftly told to improve my application before trying again. She happily agreed to my proposal before kissing my cheek.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time. No texts, but a couple dozen Snapchat notifications, which I was sure were just snaps of some party I wasn't invited to. I made a mental note to check later.
