Traveler, L.E. DeLano [book series for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

admit that my motive to befriend the fringers was part of my training because I sort of love everything about them. I love that Harper eats all the orange and purple Skittles because she knows how much I hate them and how her shoelaces are always coming untied because she refuses to double-knot. I love how Malika is deathly afraid of spiders but has seen every slasher film ever made and how she’s still a virgin but has a hilarious goal of making out with a guy from every continent. They’ve become real friends now and not just part of my never-stand-out strategy.

“Got to love a guy in uniform,” Harper calls over my shoulder, and whistles a loud catcall. I turn around in time to see Luke Weixel’s creamy cheeks turn a dusty rose. He shakes his head at Harper, his lips crinkling into a crooked smile, before turning his pale blue eyes to me.

It’s uniform day for the Junior ROTC and Luke looks extra sharp in his dark pants and tan button-down shirt, decorated with colorful medals, arc pins, and accolades. Six foot three with hair the color of summer hay and defined cheekbones, Luke always has girls swiveling in their seats or craning their necks to stare, but he looks especially stunning in uniform. It’s not just the way the uniform makes him look but how it makes him feel. He stands a little taller, walks a beat faster, and smiles a little wider in that uniform.

I raise my right hand to my forehead and give Luke a tiny salute. His crooked smile cracks wide, unmasking a pair of dimples so charming, even if you were mad at him, one smile would make you forget why. We hold each other’s stare for a moment before he steps out of the lunch line and heads for our table.

“Hi, girls,” Luke says, sliding into the seat next to me. He purposefully bumps his shoulder into mine, the right corner of his lip rising into a sideways smile. “Hey, Mac.”

Luke is the only one I let call me Mac.

“Hey, soldier,” I reply, my voice shyer than I expected it to be. Luke rests his strong arms on the table next to mine. Our skin is separated by my thin cardigan, but even the slightest touch from him manages to make my body buzz. Harper eyes the two of us and from the slow rising smile on her face, I know my olive skin is turning crimson.

“Luke, help us,” Harper says, pulling her wavy hair into a messy bun. “Reagan is refusing to go to Mark Ricardi’s party.”

“What?!” Malika practically screams, then pouts. She loves a good and rowdy Mark Ricardi party.

“Oh, come on, Mac,” Luke says, his smile still lopsided but wider, exposing his white, perfectly straight teeth. Orthodontists make a good living in this town. “Mark’s parties are always epic.”

“Yes. Epic disasters,” I rebuff, but can’t help but match his grin. It’s annoyingly contagious.

“How about this?” Luke negotiates. “We go, sit in the corner, and watch the disasters unfold together.”

Luke and I have done that before. Sat shoulder to shoulder at parties, laughing as we make up the dialogue between fighting couples and drunk lacrosse girls. My stomach, even my face hurts from three-hour giggle sessions with him.

“Pleaaassseeeee,” Malika begs, her eyes closed and hands collapsed together in painful prayer.

“Okay, okay,” I say, throwing my hands into the air in defeat. The three of them cheer in unison and exchange a round of high fives.

“I better eat if I want to make it to lab on time,” Luke says, standing up from his seat and resting his hand on my shoulder. “See you in a bit.”

Luke’s fingertips graze against my shoulder blades as he turns on the heel of his freshly polished JROTC boot and walks toward the lunch line.

The rush that takes over my body every time I’m near Luke drains from my blood, and as he disappears from my sight, my sharp senses return. Every muscle in my body tightens as I turn to my left and lock eyes with a man whose stare is so penetrating, I can feel it from hundreds of feet away. He’s tall and strong, his eyes intense and dark, dressed in a janitor’s navy-blue uniform. But I’ve never seen him before. He holds my stare for a moment, then looks away. He fumbles with the garbage bag in his hands, struggling to open it up. I watch as he tears at the black plastic, gets frustrated, and throws it to the ground. As he looks back up at me, a hundred pins prick my spine. My eyes follow him as he spins around and plows his way toward the dining hall door, knocking into a student with so much force, she winces in pain. I wait for him to stop or look back or apologize. But he doesn’t. He puts his head down and keeps going.

About the Auhtor

L. E. DELANO is a blogger and autism advocate under her alternate moniker, Ellie DeLano. She comes equipped with a “useless” theater degree that has opened doors for her in numerous ways. Though mostly raised in New Mexico, she now calls Pennsylvania home. When she’s not writing, which is almost never, she’s binge-watching Netflix and trying her best not to be an unwitting pawn in her cat’s quest for world domination. Traveler is her debut novel.

Visit her online at LEDeLano.com, or sign up for email updates here.

    

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Contents

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Prologue

1. Remnant

2. Encounter

3. Welcome to My Life

4. Stalker

5. Autumn Memory

6. Mario

7. The Target

8. The Decision

9. Through

10. All That Glitters

11. Fate and the Social Norms

12. The Other Side

13. Possibilities

14. Unexpected

15. The Other Finn

16. On the