Post by skg on Jul 15, 2022 16:37:25 GMT -5
Chapter One: Too Late
Reese didn’t mean to hit the history student.
Racing across the Leland Stanford Junior University campus on her bike, she only had one thing on her mind that morning: to stand in the center of the Main Quad in front of Memorial Church when her shadow pointed to nine o’clock on the first day of classes. If she did that, her wish would come true.
She’d been born Reese Kendra Bell on the ninth day of October. She met her best friend, Josie, when they were nine years old. Her favorite hour was nine o’clock—never too early, never too late. Nine was her lucky number.
Reese pedaled hard as clouds threatened to obliterate all shadows. She was almost there when suddenly this guy appeared out of nowhere and…
Bam!
Reese wobbled out of control, then miraculously regained her balance, but her unfortunate victim lay on the ground, skinny and bleeding. Reese glanced overhead. The clouds were about to blot out the sun, but it was rude—and maybe illegal—to hit and run. She dug in her pocket and offered him the napkin she hadn’t used with her frozen yogurt last night. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“You been riding long?” He dabbed at the blood on his knee.
“Um, yeah. You may not believe it, but I was the Bike Camp Champion two summers ago.” Reese stole another look at the sky and squeezed her hand grips. There was no time for chit chat.
“Agree. Hard to believe.” He didn’t look up.
Reese winced. She had ruled the obstacle course with zero penalty flags on the cross-campus ride. The guy pressed the napkin on his scrape like he knew what he was doing.
Reese didn’t miss this skill. “Are you pre-med?”
He lifted his head. “Not pre-med. I hate blood. I’m here to study medieval history.”
Reese nearly scoffed. There was plenty of bloodshed in those ancient times. “So, Genghis Khan, Crusades, the fall of Constantinople and all that.”
He studied her a moment. “It seems you do more than ride bikes.”
Reese scolded herself. She wasn’t a showoff, but last year she’d sat in on Stanford’s History of the Middle Ages class. Her list of places she dreamed of visiting grew longer and longer. Istanbul was at the top after that class.
Reese had one more question before she rode off. “So, how’d you get into Stanford?”
His face said huh while he studied her a moment. She was used to it, since she eventually asked every student she met that question. If they thought she was weird, she didn’t care. Anyway, most people enjoyed talking about themselves.
“I was lucky,” he finally said. “I got the Golden Buzzer for my singing on America’s Got Talent. I guess the rest is history."
Reese forced a smile and nodded. Singing was a good idea. Reese knew three others who’d gotten in that way—not with the Golden Buzzer but with Grammy awards and record contracts. Too bad she didn’t have the songbird gene. She would need another kind of golden ticket into Stanford.
Reese didn’t mean to hit the history student.
Racing across the Leland Stanford Junior University campus on her bike, she only had one thing on her mind that morning: to stand in the center of the Main Quad in front of Memorial Church when her shadow pointed to nine o’clock on the first day of classes. If she did that, her wish would come true.
She’d been born Reese Kendra Bell on the ninth day of October. She met her best friend, Josie, when they were nine years old. Her favorite hour was nine o’clock—never too early, never too late. Nine was her lucky number.
Reese pedaled hard as clouds threatened to obliterate all shadows. She was almost there when suddenly this guy appeared out of nowhere and…
Bam!
Reese wobbled out of control, then miraculously regained her balance, but her unfortunate victim lay on the ground, skinny and bleeding. Reese glanced overhead. The clouds were about to blot out the sun, but it was rude—and maybe illegal—to hit and run. She dug in her pocket and offered him the napkin she hadn’t used with her frozen yogurt last night. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“You been riding long?” He dabbed at the blood on his knee.
“Um, yeah. You may not believe it, but I was the Bike Camp Champion two summers ago.” Reese stole another look at the sky and squeezed her hand grips. There was no time for chit chat.
“Agree. Hard to believe.” He didn’t look up.
Reese winced. She had ruled the obstacle course with zero penalty flags on the cross-campus ride. The guy pressed the napkin on his scrape like he knew what he was doing.
Reese didn’t miss this skill. “Are you pre-med?”
He lifted his head. “Not pre-med. I hate blood. I’m here to study medieval history.”
Reese nearly scoffed. There was plenty of bloodshed in those ancient times. “So, Genghis Khan, Crusades, the fall of Constantinople and all that.”
He studied her a moment. “It seems you do more than ride bikes.”
Reese scolded herself. She wasn’t a showoff, but last year she’d sat in on Stanford’s History of the Middle Ages class. Her list of places she dreamed of visiting grew longer and longer. Istanbul was at the top after that class.
Reese had one more question before she rode off. “So, how’d you get into Stanford?”
His face said huh while he studied her a moment. She was used to it, since she eventually asked every student she met that question. If they thought she was weird, she didn’t care. Anyway, most people enjoyed talking about themselves.
“I was lucky,” he finally said. “I got the Golden Buzzer for my singing on America’s Got Talent. I guess the rest is history."
Reese forced a smile and nodded. Singing was a good idea. Reese knew three others who’d gotten in that way—not with the Golden Buzzer but with Grammy awards and record contracts. Too bad she didn’t have the songbird gene. She would need another kind of golden ticket into Stanford.
