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A Crazy Little Thing Called LoveCHAPTER ONE
I shook my head vigorously, crossing my arms across my chest stubbornly.
"No," I said again. "I'm not going to do it!"
"Please, Alexandrea! C'mon it's the third time this month! Just this once! It's all your fault anyway."
"It's not my fault, Alex!"
I eyed the boy standing on the other side of the room as he pouted at me. His unruly strawberry blonde hair was sticking up every which way. If I wasn't mad at him, I'd be making fun of his cowlick.
Yup. Alex and Alexandrea. Well, Alexander and Alexandrea, but Alex doesn't like being called by his full name.
First of all: no, we're not related. Alex is my best friend and he's been my best friend ever since I can remember, but he is like a brother to me. He's overprotective, always tries to threaten the guys I like, and is constantly in my room bugging the snot out of me. I don't know why he's constantly in my room though, it's not like he doesn't have a room. Or a home.
Speaking of which, that's where we were: in his room, in hi
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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