Fragments 2-chapter preview & more news

That’s right, I’m posting the chapter preview here on my blog! I think it’ll be a regular thing for releases, I enjoy having the previews on my blog. But before getting into getting into the chapter preview, I have some additional news.

Firstly, on Tuesday, the audiobook was released! it’s voiced by the amazing and versatile voice talent of Tim Alexander, links will be below and so will a preview! Being released by Caleb D. Walker is a music project with songs inspired by the characters and stories of JUDD and Fragments! Caleb is not only a self-published author, but also an indie music under the moniker Icarus producer in addition to running his own project and I came to him for a punk rock inspired soundtrack/score of sorts! What’s even more awesome, he’s provided me with the first promotional single called Ballad of the Red-haired Boy, will be listed below. It will be available on Spotify and Apple Music.

Onto the Fragments news, the final drafting is done and the date is set to May 7th and is up for pre-order now! There will be no pre-order but it will be free on Kindle Unlimited and also available as a paperback. Now onto the preview!


I.

POWERS WERE BEING FLUNG in mine and the audienceā€™s faces from the hockey rink sized Arena. The Sapphire Cityā€™s Eastview High School students could barely keep their abilities within the confines of their two-hundred by eighty-five-foot given space. It was pretty sad knowing there were schoolā€™s out there that had much bigger accommodations for their Fragment Fighting teams. Like the school of my dreams, Aries High School.

The school, this school, was so obviously desperately trying to be.

What was even more obnoxious was how they introduced themselves before thisā€¦ performance?

ā€œWe are the Eastview Fighting Silverbacks of Sapphire Cityā€™s own Eastview High School!ā€ they announced as if it were something to be proud of.

The school uniforms looked even worse than their arrogance wasā€”purple on silver, they looked like eggplant wrapped in tinfoil. The letter jackets to me and my brotherā€™s side showcased it even more tacky, instead of the cyan with purple sleeves, letters and crest of Aries, theirs were reflective silver with purple sleeves. Just one more reason to prefer to go to Aries, better school colors.

Once my brother started attending Eastview the previous year, my dreams of attending Aries High were dashed. Fireworks from one of the Fighters hands came so near to hitting me in the face, which only raised my profound annoyance.

ā€œHey, how about watching it a little, huh?ā€ I called standing perfectly balanced on my long-board thatā€™d been rolling gently back and forth under my feet.

As if they could hear me.

DrĆ© pulled me down by the arm and back to my seat. ā€œDude, calm down, whaddya thinkā€™s gonna happen durinā€™ a Fragment Fight, liā€™l bruh?ā€

My backside hurt as it hit the metal bleachers, my least favorite of all seating arrangements. DrƩ was periodically leering over at me annoyed as I shifted in discomfort opposite the direction my board would go.

Everyone else ignored my outburst, continuing to gawk at what looked to me like a choreographed dance. I already had an inkling of how miserable Iā€™d be at Eastview High School. Pressing my ear-buds into my ears and rolling my board to the ground to my left, I jump onto it as I felt DrĆ© pull my arm back. I canā€™t hear word of anything heā€™s saying over Youā€™ll Rebel to Anything by Mindless Self Indulgence blaring in my ears.

I pulled an ear-bud out with a bothered tone. ā€œWhat?ā€

ā€œWhere you goinā€™?ā€

I shake my head with a shrug, wondering why he cared. ā€œBathroom, does it matter?ā€

Snatching my arm back and putting my music back in as it continues playing, I proceed toward the school before he can answer. Taking a solo tour of the school, I wheel down the H-shaped halls past lockers and classrooms eating cheese crackers from my pocket before I finally decide to actually make it into the bathroom.

Taking a seat on the toilet with no intention of using it, I lock myself in the stall scrolling through the video app on my phone. When I started to hear the bustle of feet outside the bathroom, I grabbed my long-board from its propped up position next to me and hopped to unlock the stall. Iā€™m slammed against the narrow part between stalls by a meaty hand, causing me to drop my board with a clatter.

The sharp pain in my back returns as I open my eyes from my momentary daze. I look up at the much bigger, much older, wispy stached man in a torn sleeveless band tee, dark jeans and military style hairdo.

ā€œAre you a teacher?ā€ was my first question.

That is until the ginger-haired bully from my last school stepped from behind himā€”Casey Burke. Casey and I werenā€™t always best friends. This is one of those times where that was the case.

ā€œLooks like itā€™ll be another four years of fun, Curly-Qs.ā€ Casey throws his fist into the palm of his other hand, reminding me of his favorite nickname for me with a mischievous smile. ā€œI havenā€™t seen Four-Eyes yet.ā€

ā€œThatā€™s a great point, neither have I,ā€ I said trying to push out of the older guyā€™s grip only to be harshly pushed back into place. ā€œAnd this handsome brute is?ā€

ā€œIā€™m Brick, disrespectinā€™ the Fightinā€™ Silverbacks like that? Thatā€™s my team, man! My little brother told me you were a disrespectful little shit,ā€ he spat at me, reeling his fist up for a punch.

A teacher turned the corner into the bathroom and exclaimed, ā€œMr. Trask!ā€

The man stood stiffly in his tan suit with a raised eyebrow and the three of us were swiftly taken to the principalā€™s office.

ā€œItā€™s only the first day of school,ā€ Principal Stewards said, his disappointment directed more toward Brick. ā€œDo we have to start you out in I.S.S. to keep you out of trouble, Mr. Trask?ā€

ā€œNo, Mr. Stewards, you donā€™t.ā€

I wasnā€™t convinced by the guilty look on Brickā€™s face.

ā€œBut he disrespected the Silverbacks, andā€”ā€ Brick started.

ā€œNo, Mr. Trask,ā€ Stewards cut him off. ā€œAm I going to get any trouble from you two this year?ā€ he asked between Casey and I on either side of his older brother.

ā€œNo, sir.ā€ We both said in unison, darting glares between each other.

ā€œGood, do you have your schedules yet?ā€

The other two raised their paper schedules in front of themselves before walking out of the office while I sat shaking my head.

The principal began typing on the computer at his side. ā€œName?ā€

ā€œSam Judd.ā€

Stewardsā€™s face pinched in confusion, and thatā€™s when I knew he came across my name.

ā€œSamueā€”no, that canā€™t be rightā€”Sameel? Samal?ā€

ā€œItā€™s Samael! Sam-ay-el.ā€ I said with as little force as I could muster. ā€œJust Sam is fine, please, or Judd. I prefer either of those to people trying to pronounce my name.ā€

ā€œWell, pardon me, Judd.ā€ He scoffed, handing me my schedule, locker number and combo as it rose from his printer. ā€œHave a good first day, Mr. Judd.ā€

Unbeknownst to anyone in the office, a single ear-bud was consistently in my ear playing punk rock music but as I shut the office door behind me, I could finally put the other in. Just outside the offices were the bulletin board of extra-curriculars. After a short search, the first thing I find is photography, but then I also find basketball, another thing Iā€™ve wanted to try. The problem was, both occurred in the exact same time-slot.

I was forced to make a decision. I got into photography with my best friend, Lindsey, but I had yet to see his spiked-blond hair, awkward smile or pale blue eyes behind thick square glasses. Every student was at that Fragment Fight of a first day assembly, who knew if Iā€™d see him in photography? At least in basketball I know Iā€™d have my brother there along with me.

Basketball it was, I couldnā€™t stand the colors of the uniforms or the jackets, but I wanted to be in a room of all strangers as little as possible. I signed my name just below my brotherā€™s. DrĆ© had inspired me to start learning over the summer after attending so many of his games and just taking pictures. I wanted to be front and center on the action.

After heading to my locker to shove my long-board in itā€”I made sure Mom requested a tall one for meā€”I followed the numbered rooms until I came across my homeroom class, as instructed over the loudspeakers that sit in every corner of the building.

On my walk to the seat in the back of the U-positioned tables, I stare down at my phone. Every chair in the classroom was a rather comfortable one, looking up I noticed a few students sitting in the middle of the ā€˜U.ā€™

I was correct in assuming that the seats in the center were for the seniors. Our homeroom teacher, Mrs. Quintusā€™s morning speech was interrupted by another student entering the classroom.

ā€œGood morning, Helena.ā€ Mrs. Quintus, our homeroom teacher, smiled.

ā€œSorry, my bus was late,ā€ Helena said, opening up her laptop and donning her headphones.

ā€œI know, morning announcements.ā€ She pointed. ā€œIā€™m just finishing up explaining, headset down, please.ā€

Helena frowned with a slight roll of her neck but continued typing. ā€œGotcha.ā€

I donā€™t know why, but I was staring at her. She had a head of tight, jaw-length black dreads and midnight skin with light acne scarring. Her shirt had an anime character with animal ears and a great sword on it. Her laptop had stickers all over itā€”more anime characters, things about being a writer, symbols of various pagan and Christian religions all covered in a transparent green casingā€”but none of that was why I was staring at her.

Helenaā€™s unique marble-white eyes met mine as she pushed an ear-phone cup behind her ear and said, ā€œWhat?ā€

ā€œSorry, I was ummā€”thinking of a way to say hi, you hadnā€™t yet,ā€ I stuttered.

ā€œShould I have?ā€ She shrugged.

ā€œI donā€™t know. No, sorry.ā€ I faced ahead as Iā€™m sure she rolled her eyes at me.

ā€œToday we have an assignment,ā€ Quintus announced.

I wouldnā€™t have noticed if Helena didnā€™t get up and yell, ā€œWhat?!ā€

I wasnā€™t the only one shocked, the whole classroom was looking at her.

ā€œAn assignment in homeroom?ā€ she exclaims.

ā€œShut up, Hela.ā€ A guy at the end of the desk rolled his neck.

ā€œScrew you, Gregory.ā€ Helena sneered.

ā€œHelena! Greg! Thatā€™s quite enough!ā€ Mrs. Quintus yelled. ā€œNow, itā€™s not a big assignment, itā€™s just a getting-to-know-the-person-next-to-you exercise.ā€

ā€œStill lame.ā€ Helena shook her head. ā€œDo I have to do it?ā€

ā€œYouā€™ll put your computer away and youā€™ll do it.ā€ Mrs. Quintus approached and closed the top part of the way.

Helena rolled her eyes as Quintus passed out pink pieces of paper to everyone. A couple paragraphs with empty lines were typed on the paper asking for a name and a few details about a personā€™s interests and hobbies. We were expected to sit across from each other and get to know the other, filling out the blanks and possibly making a new friendā€”or so our teacher put it.

ā€œHelena, Samā€™s new here, partner up with him,ā€ Quintus spoke with expectation in her voice.

Helena rolled her eyes for probably the hundredth time today as she landed her gaze on me.

ā€œOkay, kid, your name?ā€ she said flatly.

ā€œItā€™s Sam Judd.ā€

ā€œAnd I thought your name was lame before. Such a common pairing of names.ā€ She pointed out. ā€œI already donā€™t like you.ā€

ā€œWell, itā€™s actually Samael.ā€ I chuckled. ā€œItā€™s just nobody knows how to say or spell my name.ā€

Her eyebrows raised as I watched her write S-A-M-A-E-L, then looking to me to make sure.

ā€œOh wow, you spelled it right!ā€

Maybe I shouldnā€™t have been so surprised given her obvious interests decorating her computer.

ā€œYouā€™re named after the fallen angel,ā€ she explained.

ā€œUsually somebody would say my name is the fake version of Samuel. I got in trouble during an etymology assignment a couple years back due to the heavily religious meaning of my name. Iā€™m pretty sure the teacher was a strict atheist or something.ā€

ā€œPeople are stupid, but Iā€™m also obsessed with religious mythology.ā€ She turns the back of her computer to me to view her many stickers in full. ā€œIā€™m Helena Denny.ā€

I wrote her full name, guessing the spelling on the first try!

ā€œOkay Helena Denny, whatā€™s your favorite movie?ā€

ā€œScream, itā€™s the perfect parody series of old slasher movies. Fuck the Scary Movie series and everything related to it!ā€ She laughed.

I joined in on her laughter. ā€œMineā€™s War of the Worlds. It scared the crap out of everyone when it originally came out as a raisin drama!ā€

She nearly threw the paper behind her. ā€œThese questions are way too easy. So, Samael,ā€ the way she said my name as she leaned back in her seat made me feel accomplished in at least one thing at Eastview. ā€œWhatā€™s your powers like?ā€

Shifting in my seat I said, ā€œThatā€¦ Iā€™m not all too comfortable talking about yet.ā€

The truth was, I wasnā€™t ready to tell anyone that I havenā€™t gotten my powers yet.

And especially with the reason being my closeted sexuality.

ā€œYou donā€™t have to tell me yours,ā€ I let her know.

ā€œOkay, I wonā€™t.ā€ She raised an eyebrow. ā€œWell, whatā€™s your book knowledge like?ā€

Looking down at the paper to see that she was serious about veering from the assignment. She gestured for me to answer.

ā€œWell, some.ā€ I shrugged. ā€œI read with my mom, she likes to buddy read. My aunt isnā€™t as much of a reader as my mom would like, so I read with her and then weā€™ll watch on-screen adaptations as they come out.ā€

ā€œOh god, whatever.ā€ A scoff came out of Helena as she stopped leaning in the padded school chair. ā€œAnyway, your favorite movie adaptation then?ā€

ā€œPeople tend to find my answer to this question pretty weird.ā€ She leaned toward me even further, resting an elbow on the desk with her hand in her palm pulsing with interest. ā€œUmmā€¦ itā€™s the old Percy Jackson movie.ā€ Mainly because I found Logan Lerman really cute.

ā€œWhat?ā€ She almost couldnā€™t contain her laughter.

ā€œI donā€™t know, he just seemed a little complain-y in the books. Yeah, he was a young teenager, Iā€™m a teenager, I have a lot to complain about, butā€¦ā€

That one specific thing came to the forefront of my mind for a moment, but Iā€™m able to shove it back before I started thinking about it too much.

ā€œI guess. Whatever dude, youā€™re weird.ā€ Her head was hanging and rocking in understanding yet disappointment. ā€œYou know what, I like you, Judd. You ainā€™t that bad.ā€ She smiled softly.

Helena didnā€™t look at her computer for the rest of the class period. One ear-cuff did stay on her ear though, just as an ear-bud stayed in mine. In addition to screenplays, her computer was filled with poetry, of which she wasnā€™t willing to show me. She said sheā€™d find some short stories for me to read, though.

Appropriate onesā€¦ whatever that means.


II.

MY DAY ONLY GOT WORSE when I found out I shared my final class of the dayā€”Fragment History and Sciencesā€”with Casey. The desks were set for two students each, but thankfully in alphabetical order. I sat next to a stranger while Casey sat up front. I hoped he wouldnā€™t see me right away.

Taking more notice of my nametag on the table, I see that my name is spelled with a ā€˜Uā€™ instead of an ā€˜A.ā€™ I almost thought there could be another Sam Judd in the class, but I figured the chances of that were slim to none.

I did not have high hopes for this particular class.

It wasnā€™t until roll call after the late bell that he belted my name out-loud when I really knew I wasnā€™t going to like this guy.

ā€œOh god.ā€ I lightly pounded my forehead on my desk with my hand raised.

ā€œWhatā€™s your problem?ā€ the guy sitting next to me asked.

ā€œMy nameā€™s not Samuel.ā€

ā€œReally?ā€ He looked down at my nametag. ā€œThen what iā€”ā€

ā€œItā€™s Sam, okay? Just Sam,ā€ I snapped.

ā€œYou need to chill out, dude, itā€™s just a fucking spelling error, jeez.ā€

He had no idea.

ā€œMy name is Mr. Haegen,ā€ The teacher spoke sternly. ā€œYou will be called by your legal first name in this class. I expect my name to be pronounced correctly.ā€

ā€œMr. Haegen, my name isnā€™t Samuel, itā€™s Samael.ā€

ā€œWhat?ā€ He looked at me almost annoyed. ā€œWhat kind of name is that? Samuel will do.ā€

ā€œBut thatā€™sā€”ā€ not my name. Greatā€¦ I trailed off and into thought, giving up and pressing my forehead to my desk again.

*          *          *

So, Mr. Haegenā€™s H&S class wasnā€™t actually my last class, just my last boring academic. Even with me just getting into sports this year, gym has always been ridiculously easy for me to enjoy. There was no way gym class could let me down.

The shock of showers in the locker room hit me like a train though as I entered. It was just one gigantic room surrounded by spouts, like a public swimming pool.

ā€œM-middle school di-idnā€™t have tho-ose.ā€ I struggled to let out.

Standing there frozen, I darted for a bathroom stall for the first time ever at the first sign of my peers entering.

Being expected to be in a shower with other guys was a first for me. I waited for everyone else to finish to peak around the corner to be sure the showers were empty before stepping in myself. As I came into the gym in my button-up joggers and sleeveless Ramones tee, the wood-patterned stone gym floor felt like a breath of fresh air after this long day.

ā€œTook yaā€™ long enough, new kid.ā€ The gym teacherā€™s whistle startled me as he gestured for me to get in line.

ā€œNervous stomach, sorry. It took me away from the Fragment Fight this morning too.ā€

ā€œT.M.I., kid. Either way, I donā€™t want to hear excuses. Get in line.ā€ He whistled again.

He was the average white twenty-something-year-old, buff, surfer-dude wearing sunglasses inside. His gym clothes looked straight out of the eighties, the shortest of red shorts and a white muscle shirt showing off every curve of his physique heā€™d obviously worked years for.

After roll call, he introduced himself as Coach Daniels, last year he was just the basketball coach, but heā€™d be teaching gym class this year too. As he gave the curriculum, heā€™d whistle for us to do different exercisesā€”jog a couple laps, whistle, jumping-jacks, whistle, squats, whistleā€”and if we did any of it in a way he deemed wrong, heā€™d correct it with annoying slap on the wall of his yard stick. During the routine, Casey and I locked eyes with that all too familiar smile of his.

Oh, fucking-a!

My workout sweat quickly mixed with a nervous cold sweat before Daniels tooted that damned whistle again at the end of class. I really needed a shower at that point.

ā€œCasey Burke, Drake Judd, Sam Juddā€”ā€ I was glad Daniels chose instantly just used that name. ā€œā€”front and center, the rest of you, outta here.ā€ He thumbed to the locker-room as he pushed us into a small huddle.

Why us three? Why Casey? I mused.

ā€œYou threeā€™s name showed up on my basketball practice roster.ā€

Really? Casey signed up for basketball too?!

ā€œI know you two havenā€™t had me for gym class until nowā€”you did last year, DrĆ©.ā€ DrĆ© nodded with a smile at being singled out by Daniels. ā€œBut I donā€™t usually allow long pants in my gym class, and definitely not on my court during practice.ā€

Our subtle glares at each other turn into the analyzing of each otherā€™s near matching button-downs.

ā€œGotcha, Iā€™ll have to get some quality gym shorts,ā€ Casey said before I could.

ā€œSame,ā€ I added spitefully.

Daniels raised his posture as his thumb and pointer finger met his chin. ā€œAre you telling me you two donā€™t have basketball?ā€

Casey raised his shoulders. ā€œSwimming trunks.ā€

ā€œI can borrow a pair of DrĆ©ā€™s for a bit,ā€ I suggested.

ā€œummā€”ā€ DrĆ© started.

Only to be interrupted, ā€œPERFECT! I especially expect this from my potential players during practice, school colors preferred.ā€

Ew, no.

ā€œOff with you.ā€ The way Daniels grabbed and squeezed mine and Caseyā€™s shoulders made me a little uncomfortable.

*          *          *

Mom stood as I made it through the front door. With DrĆ©ā€™s super-speed, he easily made it home within seconds. He sat next to her on the couch as they had a movie ready to press play on the living room TV.

ā€œWeā€™re going to watch the new movie on HBO Max!ā€ Mom began instantly. ā€œThe one based on the book we just finished.ā€

ā€œCool, can I put my long-board in my room?ā€

ā€œYes, please, youā€™re tracking gravel in the house. Sweep it up when you get back, wouldā€™ya? Iā€™ll nuke the mozzarella sticks. Your drink is in the fridge, son.ā€

ā€œYes, hurry brother.ā€ DrĆ© was bringing out his Drunken-Old-Englishmen accent to show his displeasure. ā€œWe doth watch-eth The stone of Magical Faggotryā€¦ eth.ā€

He had no idea what he was saying.

The word stung when it tailed off of the end of DrĆ©ā€™s sentence, but I tried to hide my shock from them in microseconds so not to raise any suspicion.

ā€œDrake Judd! Watch youā€™re fucking mouth, young man!ā€ she scolded briefly. I was thankful for Momā€™s snappy response. ā€œSit down and just get ready to press play while I get these snacks.ā€

A while into the movieā€”that DrĆ© was thoroughly making sure we knew he wasnā€™t enjoyingā€”I realized I hadnā€™t put my hat in my bag before I entered the house. I looked over to Mom to see a none-to-pleased look on her face at me. To everyone else, including DrĆ©, it was just some dingy old hat. It could have been any old black beanie, but no. She knew, and I was already in trouble for it.

I found it snooping through the attic one day when DrĆ© was supposed to be watching over me, but instead he was napping. Iā€™d been rummaging around the attic when I wasnā€™t supposed to be and found it deep in a box, it wasnā€™t the only thing I found, but she didnā€™t have to know that.

As the movie ended, DrĆ© shot to his room with a rude, ā€œSee yā€™all later!ā€ and a slam of his door.

Mom grabbed my arm as I also tried to make my way to my own room. ā€œWhereā€™d you get that hat, Sam?ā€

ā€œIā€¦ fo-found it.ā€ I stuttered out.

ā€œWhere did you find that hat, Samael?ā€ Her eyes became a purple glow, telling me she was starting using her pathokinesis on me, inducing intimidation. ā€œWere you getting into shit in the attic again? Boy, it better not be a mess up there!ā€

She reached for my head, but I pulled back with my hands tightly on my hat.

ā€œIt was his, wasnā€™t it?ā€

She stiffened her posture but didnā€™t answer.

ā€œI promise, I kept it clean up there, you can go look! But it was Dadā€™s, wasnā€™t it?ā€

Again, she didnā€™t answer, instead she folded her arms and turned her nose away from me to ignore my question.

ā€œTell me about him!ā€ I begged.

ā€œWe met in college.ā€ She shrugged and walked away.

Thatā€™s all she ever saidā€”we met college, he picked your name, you and DrĆ© have the same dad, heā€™s a white guyā€”at least those clues confirmed it. The words College Sweethearts, 2011 swept through my mind, taking me back to the photo I found along with the hat.

I stormed into my room knowing sheā€™d silently given in on letting me keep the hat. Iā€™d never met my dad before, the only depiction of him I had was the photo Iā€™d just pulled from underneath my pillow to stare at. Those words on the back of it, College Sweethearts 2011. Thatā€™s the year DrĆ© was born.

On the front, a much younger version of my mom, happy and pregnant. Her warm dark tone shone alongside her love of colorful modern day hippie attire, complimenting her so pleasantly. In her arms, the so-called sweetheartā€”a pale man with shoulder-length brown hair, baggy earth-toned stoner-looking clothes, a sleepy look in his eye andā€¦ this hat.

ā€œI still donā€™t know your name,ā€ I spoke to the picture. ā€œBut I know itā€™s you. I accidently let Mom find out about the hat today, I forgot to take it off before I came in the house, the first day of school was just suchā€¦ shit!ā€ I threw my head back onto my bed, shoving my pillow tightly into my face before I spoke again, ā€œShe didnā€™t take it, though. She almost did, she would have definitely taken you away from me.ā€

Taking my hat off, I look on the inside to peer at the blue sewn in Star of David sitting at the back. The same blue star was tattooed on his forearm; it was also a sticker on his guitar.

ā€œCasey followed me to this school, and whatā€™s worse, he has an older brother. The guyā€™s got to be in his twenties!ā€ I slam my fists to my side multiple times. ā€œLindsey isnā€™t there. Iā€™m sure of that,ā€ I drone. ā€œAll my teachers are nothing but tools in a giant toolbox. The principal asked me if I was going to be any trouble. I was the one about to be beat up! Even the gym coach is an asshole.ā€

I can barely carry all this, look at this picture and hold back tears as they well up. The pool began to fall from my burning eyes as I instantly wiped them away.

ā€œI did make one friend today, sheā€™s pretty cool.ā€ I smiled, as if someone had asked.

Thatā€™s when a thought randomly zoomed into my mind.

ā€œThatā€™s it! I know what Iā€™m going to do! Something kind of passive aggressive.ā€ I press my fingers to my chin. Tucking the picture back under my pillow and jumping out of my bed to yell down the hall, ā€œHey, Mom, can I get something for like, twenty-five dollars online?ā€

ā€œOne thing, Samael, one thing!ā€ she calls from her room still sore from our fight. ā€œConsider it your early birthday gift, that means I can focus on Christmas, brat!ā€

ā€œMom, can I get a pair of shoes off the inter-webs?ā€ DrĆ© took the opportunity to ask.

ā€œHow much are they Drake?ā€ Mom groans.

There was a pause before DrĆ© gave his answer. ā€œThree-hundred dollars.ā€

ā€œBoy are you out of your goddamn mind? What do you think I got, a fuckinā€™ gold card?!ā€

That was definitely the biggest of noā€™s Iā€™d ever heard. I fell back into my bed after shutting my door and pulled the picture back out.

ā€œOh, I signed up for basketball tryouts this year! Iā€™m going to try and be on the team with DrĆ©.ā€ I continued with the nonresponding photo. ā€œNo, Iā€™m not doing it because of that, Iā€™m doing it because the game looks fun, Dad. Secondly, Helenaā€™s just a friend. Iā€™ve decided Iā€™m not dating anyone, and Iā€™m not telling anyone that Iā€™m gay. Or that because Iā€™ve chosen to keep it a secret, I have no powers.ā€


Promo single, Ballad of the Red-haired Boy by Icarus!

JUDD – Chapter 2 audiobook preview
Narrated by Tim Alexander

Thank you for reading,

~ J. D. šŸ’™šŸ–¤

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Don’t forget to check out the debut in the series, JUDD NOW!

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