Three teens at Deep River High. One love triangle... #YA

Crowded

by Shaina Cilimberg



Cole was ignoring the chatter of his classmates before history class started, when the cell phone beeped. Everything inside said to turn the phone off, but the unwillingness to wait until lunch period took over. A picture text message from Tanya. Her skin was tan and Cole didn’t see any clothing on her.
When Cole was baptized last month, he became a Christian and truly wanted to change everything for Christ. The moment Cole typed a message about wanting sex with her and pressed “Send”, he realized it was a mistake. This would ruin his relationship with God and with his new girlfriend. Things had been going so well between him and Emily Davis.

Last night
A candle flickered in the small, dimly lit Italian restaurant. Cole Martin destroyed the final slice of pizza and waited for Emily to finish chewing her last bite. Then, he got a wad of wrinkled money out of his stained jeans, which Emily always had compliments on.
Putting it on the table, he said, “I’ll pay for it.”
Emily asked, “You sure?”
Cole fingered the checkered table cloth. “Yeah. I had a job at the guitar shop this summer. My treat.”
A smile lit up her brown eyes. “Thanks.”
Then, Emily groaned, “I hate that summer’s over.”
Cole chuckled in agreement.. “Yeah. Maybe we should protest the start of school.”

The next day, Cole sat at his desk before class started, resting his head on skinny arms. He made sure the cell phone was turned off, just in case anyone else tried to sext him. That way, there wouldn’t be a temptation to once again fall into and lose another night of sleep over.
Emily walked up to Cole’s desk. “We should to go canoeing this weekend while it’s still hot out.”

From "Blue Bells of Scotland" by Laura Vosika

Where could they all be? The MacDougalls couldn't have returned so quickly for vengeance. They couldn't have emptied everyone out so swiftly and silently that he slept through it.

Niall stooped to slide the dirk from his boot. Its smooth metal blade ran cold up his leg. A bead of sweat inched down his jaw. He scanned the desolate castle, right and left, and straightened, pushing the long, dark hair from his forehead. The walls: they were like his castle walls, but—he studied them—not quite.

A wave of dizziness crashed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, braced his hands on his knees for a moment, and pushed himself back up, staring at the ruins where the stables, blacksmith, and armory should have been. The close was no longer beaten earth, grazed by sheep, but soft with dewy grass, like an English garden.

He touched his temple, under his hair. The lacerations were still rough, tender to the touch. The wound ached as if it were only days old. Had it caused him to sleep long enough for people and sheep to disappear, for grass to grow?

...and walls to crumble?