Stained Glass Souls (Wattys 2014, Collector's Dream Award Winner)

Stained Glass Souls (Draft #2): Teaser Chapter

Hello darlings!

In celebration of 500 followers -- you guys are amazing! -- I've decided to post a "sneak peek" from the revised edition of SGS. The following is a snippet from Ariel's POV. Basically, I wanted to let you in on the editing process & where the book was headed. A couple points may be confusing, but at this time in the book, not a whole lot has changed direction, other than "Katrina" becoming "Katrya" & assuming position as Ariel's older sister.

Without further ado, I present: Stained Glass Souls: Draft #2. Enjoy!

***

Graduation day loomed at the beginning of June. Thanks to the move, it entailed nothing more than a bundle of loose homework and a new stack of marks on her transcript. There was no celebration, no joyous revival to welcome the beginning of summer. The house was empty and the walls were silent, watchful.

It felt so strange, realizing that while she was still one year shy of closing this chapter of her life, Katrya was tucking her past aside neatly and moving forward. Utterly discomforted, Ariel had trouble accepting that, once again, she was being left behind.  

She felt bare. Standing on the threshold of her senior year, stripped down to the essence of who she had been before Katrya had stolen her undivided attention, she was sorely unremarkable. She had done away with the hair dye, the excess, anything that blared of rebellion, because going against the flow no longer seemed like an exciting prospect. It simply felt lonely.

Only a few things had survived the purge: her collage collection, her eyeliner, her hopelessness. And her Doc Martens, patterns expertly scratched in the faded black leather, safety pins forming metal guards around her ankles. The treads along the heels were almost melted from stubbing out cigarettes, and dragged along the floor when she walked. Yet parting with them, or anything more, was out of the question. They would be her sobering reminder. To ground her, something she needed now more than ever.

Cross-legged on the couch, sweating through her shirt in the afternoon heat of The Art Box, she was staring down at a blank sheet of notebook paper, trying to formulate her thoughts about her experiences during her junior year of high school. It was a requirement, a yearly assignment that her old school had given out at the beginning of high school to foster creative growth and academic improvement. Since she had pulled out of the district, she didn’t technically have to attempt it, but it reminded her of home. And even if home was broken, it was a familiar place.

 Iris, nosily slamming chairs into rows for the 4 o’clock portrait session, was singing Sheena is a Punk Rocker – or a close rendition of it – at mid-pitch, grinding through every note in her smoky voice. She had been visibly fighting tears for the better part of the afternoon, but somehow seemed to have perked up. Her office shrine had been completed the previous morning, and Ariel suspected that the visible homage was balm to her aunt’s tormented grief.

“Hey, doll.” Iris scraped the final chair into place at the back of the room and came to stand in front of her. Flecks of dried paint clung to her clothing, and glitter was dusted in her braided coif. “You almost finished?”

Ariel cupped the paper with both hands, hiding her one and only sentence. This year was nothing remarkable. Because it had been remarkable to her aunt, a horrible kind, and it felt disrespectful to parade her minute problems around. “Not really,” she said, “but I don’t have to finish this.”

“There are better things to do than wasting time.” Iris smiled crookedly, Randall-esque. “Tired of Redemption already? I don’t blame you. I’m sick of it, but I can’t just leave.”