Hey friends, here’s a sample of an upcoming book under K.M. Jensen for kids and young adults.
The explosion of sound stopped suddenly as the door clicked shut behind her. Sam slumped over a nearby railing until the nausea passed and then made her way slowly to the comforting shade of a large elm tree. She sat in the dirt, back against the trunk, backpack ready to run if need be. The brightness and silence were a stark contrast to the scene that lay behind her. The Baylor High School sign was blurry through her tears but she glared in its direction none the less. Her anger, however, was short lived and she suddenly felt guilty for her nasty thoughts. It wasn’t the school’s fault, or any of its faculty or most of its students. There was only one person to blame.
“Megan Meadows,” growled the tiny male voice beside her. Sam wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared at the pink stuffed bunny poking his head outside of her backpack.
“Marty,” she scolded him, “What are you doing here? I thought I left you at home?” He struggled out of the backpack and stood with his fists balled facing the school entrance she had recently exited.
“Well that’s on you for not noticing me until now, isn’t it?” His voice sounded hurt.
“Sorry,” Sam whispered and then started crying again. Marty softened up his face but not his stance.
“I’m going to get her for this,” he growled again, “I swear to you I will.” He didn’t move but she eyed him nervously.
“Look, I appreciate that you want to stand up for me but think of what would happen to you.”
“I don’t care,” he seethed. Sam reached for him and he flinched. She would pick him up like a stuffed animal only if it became necessary but otherwise she treated him like a person. Because he was, well minus the body.
“Marty, it’s my fault that I end up in situations like this.” Marty sighed and sat down beside her where he could see the door. He gently placed one hand on her knee.
“Because of what happened to Leslie?” he whispered. Sam nodded and opened her backpack and motioned for Marty to climb inside. He obliged but stood with his arms and head out the opening. She wouldn’t call her mom; she would walk all the way home if she had to or maybe she would just visit her grandmother until her mom got off work. Marty shifted uncomfortably. “Because she got hurt?” he asked as she stood and hoisted the backpack on her shoulder.
“Because I killed her,” Sam whispered softly.
Let me know what you think in the comments below!
Fantasy author and mother existing in the enchanted land of NorCal.