Crumbling Walls (Jack and Emily #1)

Crumbling Walls

Thank You to those who made this possible…

My husband, Chris and daughter, Abby, who were always willing to be quiet while I wrote. I love you tons!

My mom and dad, Joe and Lois, who are truly awesome beyond all comprehension.

My cousin Dave Measel, who said if I didn’t publish this book, it’d be a crime … and then decided we might as well do it ourselves.

My first readers, who took a chance to read a pile of paper, which, by the end, had tire marks, food stains and smelled of gasoline:

My nieces Sarah and Ashley Mangrum, Dave Measel (Davy), my mom and my Aunt Carol, my mother-in-law, Marilyn Strandt, Sarah Rowse and Benny.

And finally, the people who helped us fund our little venture:

Chris, Joe and Lois, Marilyn, Ken, Kim, Marvin and Tracey, Bee, Kelly, Katherine, Jessica, Aunt Carol, Christina and Peter

Book One of the Jack and Emily Series

Crumbling Walls

By

Laura Strandt

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the express written approval of the publisher.  For information regarding permission please write to Orange Publishing, LLC, 102 Miller St, Strasburg, PA 17579.

Text copyright © 2012 Orange Publishing, LLC.

All rights reserved. Published by Orange Publishing, LLC.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013930162

ISBN-13: 978-0-9887480-0-2 (Paperback Edition)

About the Author

I love books, plain and simple.

After devouring them for decades and telling stories to myself for years, I decided to take up the NaNoWriMo challenge in 2006 to try my hand at actually writing things down.

Dave, my cousin/best friend/partner in crime for the last 36 years, then spent our two-week vacation to the Grand Canyon reading it.

Fast forward to 2012. I still love books and thanks to NaNoWriMo, I have written six more (so far).

I’m a children’s librarian by day (and some evenings) but by night (and lunch hour), I am a writer. It’s totally the most perfect thing in the world: deadlines, writer’s block and all, including Dave’s hounding to change a paragraph, chapter or whole character personality because it’s crap.

I wouldn’t change a second of it and hope that you’ll read my book over and over again, so, like many of my own books, it needs liberal amounts of duct tape to hold the cover on and the pages in.

Prologue

As she slowly pulled the door shut, the shaft of light from the top of the stairs shrank, until the only thing illuminated were the two fingers of his left hand.

The door clicked shut a moment later, plunging him into complete darkness and for the first time, showing her the light.

Chapter 1

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He’d passed by the house at least twice a day for the past two weeks and, whenever she was there, he wished she would glance his way so he’d have an excuse to stop.

Being just 15, he didn’t have the courage, gumption or enough of what some would call an approaching sense of self, to talk to her first.

Until now.

Because now he had a reason.

Oh, it was a crappy, concocted, ‘set the chain of events in motion’ kind of reason, but again, being 15, he thought it was pure gold.

He would pretend his tire was going flat.

It was simple. It was ideal. It was perfect … and also rather stupid.

In the quick and easy act of leaning forward to stare at the tire, he managed to over-balance, tip sideways, knock into the small picket fence surrounding the front yard and take out several small snapdragon plants.

This, of course, not only made her look up, but stand quickly, causing the pile of papers in her lap to scatter all over the porch.

He righted himself quickly, turned a lurid shade of red in embarrassment and said the first thing that popped in his brain, still managing to stick to his story, “Sorry about your flowers. I, um, I've got a flat tire.”

After this, he just stood, wondering how odd it would be if he began banging his head on the concrete and wailing in sheer idiocy at his previous and hopefully last statement ever.

The girl, standing stock still on the porch steps, didn’t come over, didn’t open her mouth, didn’t even seem to breathe. She simply stared until the boy thought it better for everyone if he just got the hell out of there and found a new bike route.

Giving a small, pathetic wave by way of apology for disturbing her, he turned and continued down the street, cursing himself when he remembered that the reason for him stopping in the first place was a broken bike. Yeah, he was damn sure he'd blown it before it had even begun.

▪▪▪

Later that night, he sat at his family’s dinner table long after his brothers had run off to various summer entertainments: bike-riding, evening jobs, video games. He sat so long that his mother came over and tried to pry out of him exactly why he’d been so quiet. But prying tonight would be fruitless. And soon, his mother just shook her head, ruffled his hair and asked if he’d like to join them in a game of Monopoly.

With a shake of his head, “No thanks. I’ve still gotta go cut the lawn. It’s my turn.”

“Well, maybe when you’re done, see if Nate’ll help with the trimming. If I recall, he owes you for taking out the trash last week.”

Finally smiling, “Good thinkin’.”

▪▪▪

The next day, he found himself following his usual route. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason there he was, pedaling along, feeling an overwhelming nervousness and excitement mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment.

He wanted to see her again. And he wasn’t disappointed. As he approached the house, there she was, this time a book propped on her lap rather than the paper. She was looking right at him as he swallowed hard and put on the brakes.

“No papers today?” She shook her head and held up the book so he could see the title, “
Algebra for Dummies
, huh? Just some light summer reading?”

She shook her head again, although this time a voice followed, “Summer school.” Now, normally, he’d have responded with something, but after hearing her voice, coupled with the piercing green eyes, he managed to forget exactly how to speak. He instead stood, staring openly at her until she finally, finally, finally, broke into a small smile, “You okay there?”

And he crashed back to Earth.

Shaking his head, “Um, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s all right. Algebra pretty much makes me catatonic as well.”

Returning the smile, “I’m Jack.”

“Would you laugh if I said my name was Jill?”

“Probably.”

“Just checking.”

Slightly intrigued now, he hesitated before asking, “Your name isn't actually Jill though, is it?”

“No. I just wondered if you’d laugh.”

Shaking his head, “So, you gonna make me guess? ‘Cause we could be here for an awful long time?”

Setting her book on the porch, she walked towards him, “I imagine you might end up trying names like Bertha or Clementine and I just couldn’t handle that so,” holding out her hand, “I’m Emily.” After shaking his hand in an oddly formal gesture, she excused herself quickly, “I hate to go but I’ve gotta get ready for work. I’m sorry.”

“You have a job?”

She nodded her head, “Yeah. I work at Dragon Gardens, the Chinese place down on Main Street. I wash dishes, bus tables, anything really.”

“Are you 16 then?”

“Nope.”

Figuring one of her parents had signed some kind of work release, he moved on, “What about your Algebra?”

“That’s for after I get home.” Turning towards the house, she stopped and faced him again, “Why didn’t you ever stop to say hello before?”

Feeling his face heating immediately in embarrassment, he couldn’t believe the honest answer that dropped from his mouth, “I guess I was scared.”

“Of me?”

The surprised curiosity in her voice made him relax a little, “No, of those vicious snapdragons you’ve got by the fence … grabby little things.”

“Well, I’ll hold them back next time I see you. Promise.”

“Then I might just have to stop and say hi again.”

“You’ll probably find me trying to solve for X.”

“I could probably help with that.”

Nodding, “Maybe.”

And with that, she disappeared around the back of the house after scooping up the other books from the porch.

And with that, Jack decided that Emily could very well be the most beautiful name in the world.