-Rochelle
Synopsis
Xanthe White is an average thirteen-year-old, living an average life when a fight with her mother and a fire at her house changes her world forever. Moved to a children's home, Xanthe must deal both with the death of her mum and the strange new power that Jared Slater wants to help her with.
Just when it seems things can't get any worse, they do. The discovery of a prophecy and a group of individuals who want them dead forces Xanthe and Jared to flee. Enemies are closing in from all sides and they'll go to any lengths to get what they want - Xanthe, Jared and all of the other children like them.
Excerpt
The first thing there is to know about me is that I'm a horrible person.
I shout, I scream, I tell lies and I hit people for no apparent reason. I've even stolen things, a couple of times. But it's not really my fault, you see, because I never meant for any of this to happen. None of it. It just happened. If I had my way, I would be back home right now watching Pirates of the Caribbean with my mum and not being a freak.
That, by the way, is the second thing there is to know about me. I'm not only a horrible person, I'm a freak too. Not, like, deformed or something – at least not physically. I'm just a freak. I can do freaky things with my freaky mind. I don't really understand it, but whatever it is, it's not good.
And where I am now? That's not good either. I glance up at the clock. It's hung high on the wall opposite the bed I am sitting on.
Five.
My bed is notoriously uncomfortable, which I hear is good for the back, but it's terrible if I actually want to get to sleep in this tiny room that smells of disinfectant and is closer to a shoebox than anything else. It reminds me of one of those doll houses that I made as a kid, a shoebox filled with matchstick furniture. Well, other girls made them – I spent my time climbing trees, but that's beside the point.
The big hand of the clock swings around, tantalizingly slow. Four.
This place is horrible. I hate it here. But then again, I suppose that's the general idea. I'm not exactly here for a friendly visit. I shouldn't be here at all. I wouldn't be here at all, if I wasn't such an idiot. While I've always been an idiot, it's never been an issue until now.
I screw my eyes – hazel, like my mum's – closed and try not to think, determined not to spend any more time remembering my failings. It's not working. Memories creep up on me, taking me by surprise and I distract myself by staring at the clock. Time seems to be moving slowly, too slowly, like a man being led to the gallows. Finally, the big hand slides around once more, just as another memory leaps to mind, unbidden. I try not to think, not to remember, but it's too late.
Three.
I start to remember.
