Believe it or not, I went in and finished up Chapter Two last night.
I didn’t intend to finish it last night, but once I was through with Kerry’s Evaluation I decided to jump into the final scene because it was short–at least compared to the others I edited–and it was was a good ending point be finish up the chapter. Which I did.
Now, as I did with Annie’s I’m not showing any of Kerry’s E and A. I shouldn’t say any, for as yesterday I offered an excerpt that revolved around a certain school adviser, I’m doing the same here. And this particular passage is probably one of those in the book that give me a lot of emotional heartache:
(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)
His eyes snapped towards the adviser as she spoke. “It’s fine that you remember you time here, all the good times and even a few of the bad. It’s even okay to miss this place. But I want you to remember something else—”
“This chapter of your life is over; has been for some time. It was written, and now—” She pretended to kiss her fingers, then opened them as if she were releasing the kiss. “It finished and a new chapter came along.
“When The Foundation came for you last week, that started another chapter, with Annie and you in London and Amsterdam, and with the trip here. The moment you came through Founder’s Gate and walked in here, that chapter ended and this one started—and as soon as you walk out of here, this ends and another begins.” She smiled brightly, her eyes reflecting her pleasure. “And what happens then? You couldn’t guess in a thousand years.
“It’s okay to remember the past, but you can’t keep dwelling upon those old moments.” Her eyes softened as if they were now misting over. “You have to keep writing new chapters.”
When I wrote that the first time I cried. When I edited it the first couple of times I cried. And last night, while doing the revision, I had to stop and take a break because I was crying again. The reason is simple: there are chapters in my life that I’ve closed but not forgotten, and even though I do my best not to dwell on them, they hurt me again and again if I give them any thought. In so many ways I’m just like Kerry: a person who was damaged at an early age and who hung on to events that gave me the most happiness. Unlike Kerry, I never had an Annie to help with those new chapters, so the happiness has been few and far between, making those old chapters even more precious.
And I’m crying again. Time to move on–
The last scene of Chapter Two shows the aftermath of their E and As, and we get to see how well they handled their respective ordeals:
Isis turned the instant Annie emerged from her room.
She rushed over to her for Annie was pale and stood slightly bent at the waist, neither of which were good. Isis held her by the shoulders and moved her to a nearby chair before kneeling beside her. “Hey, hey—” She slowly lifted her chin, turning her face towards her. There was a slight sheen of sweat across Annie’s face and she was having trouble focusing. While it was obvious she wasn’t at her best, Isis had to ask the question. “How you doing, Annie?”
Her reply was not weak, but her voice was soft. “I’m fine.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m just a little dizzy—” She folded her hands around her middle. “I don’t feel good.”
Isis had actually thought a few moments before that she was going to make it through the evening without having to take someone to the hospital, but that wouldn’t happen now. “Okay, as soon as Kerry is out—”
Her words were interrupted by the slamming of the door behind her and Kerry’s sobbing. He pressed himself into the wall and fought to control the tears pouring from his eyes, managing several deep breaths in the process.
Isis leaned in close to Annie. “I want you to put your head between your knees and stay like that; I gotta check on Kerry.” She moved Annie into position without a word of complaint, then hurried to the boy. “Hey, hey—” She touched Kerry’s arm. “You okay, Kerry?”
He sniffed back tears and snot before taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I’m okay.”
Isis felt him shaking, and his breath was still ragged. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” He nodded quickly, forcing himself into a steady composure. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m okay now.”
Yes, Ms. Isis, we’re fine after being traumatized by your school “adviser”: thanks loads! Both kids had to dig deep and admit things they either didn’t want to, or were afraid to say, but hey, a special school has special admission requirements, and maybe sticking your kid in the hospital for the night is part of that price for a free education of the strangest type. And it’s only going to get stranger from here on out.
But first, we have to meet another of this cast of characters . . . probably tomorrow.
Yeah, for sure tomorrow.