Guardian of Atlantis (The Children of Atlantis)

Guardian of Atlantis

Children of Atlantis

Book 1

Annie Rachel Cole

Kindle Edition

Copyright © 2012 Rachel Annie Cole writing as Annie Rachel Cole

All rights reserved.

Cover Photo Free Digital Photos.net

For more information about the author, please visit
www.annierachelcole.com
or annierachelcole.blogspot.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the Author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

This
ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook
may not be re-sold
or given away to other people. I
f you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

To Stephen, for believing in me all these years and putting up wi
th my love of books and writing.

To Zachery, for listening to my ideas and giving me feedback even when you weren’t interested in the topics
.

1

I remember asking my mom why we had to move again. But she never gave me a reason.

“This is the last time we’ll move,” was all she told me as she wrapped the dishes and put them into a cardboard box.

That was five years, four houses, two apartments and six schools ago. But hey, who’s counting?

             
--Raven Weir’s journal

Raven chewed on her bottom lip. She hated the first day of school, even more so when it fell in the middle of the school year like so many of her past first days had. But today was worse. Today was her sixteenth birthday. In all the books and movies, sixteenth birthdays were magical. Girls discovered they were princesses of lost countries, or fairies with wings, or they had powers that no one else did. They didn’t start new schools in the middle of the school year on their sixteenth birthdays.

“How about we go back home and I help you unpack?” Raven asked her mo
m. She tried the birthday strategy
last night, but her mom shot that down really quick, telling her she’d already missed too many days because of the move.

“There’s not
much to do. Besides, you might as well get this over with,” said Suzanne Weir. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

Raven shook her head. It looked like she wasn’t getting out of going to school today, but she didn’t need her mom walking her in like she was a little kid. She stared at the students walking toward the huge two story brick building and sighed.

“Are you okay?” asked her mom.

“Unicorns?
For a mascot?
Mom, are they serious?”

“And what’s wrong with unicorns? They’re cute.”

“That’s the problem. School mascots shouldn’t be cute. They need to be tough and mean looking. Really!
Pinewood High, Home of the Fighting Unicorns.
My new mascot is a unicorn? How pathetic is that!”

“Does it really matter that much, or are you just looking for something to stall the inevitable?” asked her mom. “What’s really wrong?”

“Are you sure I can’t stay home? Just for a couple more days. It is my birthday.
My sixteenth birthday.”
Raven crossed her fingers, hoping maybe the birthday strategy would work this time. “I just don’t think I should go to school today. My stomach feels funny,” she added.

“You’re just having first day jitters. Go have a great day. You’ll be fine.
And Raven, happy birthday.”

“You’re no help,” mumbled Raven as she got out of the car and slammed the door shut.
“Just what I wanted, to be stared at on my birthday.”

Suzanne waved, but Raven just stuck out her tongue, even though it was
a childish thing to do, but
she was playing the new kid on her birthday.
So much for a date for the prom or anything else.
At least she had a chance for a date at her other school, but here? Not likely. She was the new oddity, but more so because her dad taught here before he died. Raven adjusted her book bag and stepped into the flow of students heading toward the building.

At least she already had her schedule and didn’t have to sit in the office waiting for it. One embarrassment off the list of embarrassing first day stuff she’d have to endure. Raven glanced at three girls standing just outside the glass doors. They were laughing and hugging each other.

“Maybe…” but Raven shoved the thought to the back of her mind as quick as she could. No use wishing for
such
things even if it was her birthday. It wasn’t going to happen. She pulled the schedule out of her back pocket as she entered the building. Biology in Room 212 was the first class listed. Raven glanced at one of the doors on her right. Its number started with a one. “So I’ve just got to find the stairs,” she told herself.
“Great, the new morning workout routine.”

“Hey, moron.
Get out of the way.” A huge dark headed guy shoved Raven, almost knocking her to the ground.

The girls from outside followed behind the guy, still giggling and laughing, but now it was directed at her.

“Blue hair.
So not in fashion and so against the rules,” said one girl.

“Yeah, and it looks stupid. Not your color at all,” said the tall blonde in the bunch. “Way too dark. What is it? Some
kind of Goth look
?”

Before Raven could say anything, the guy and girls disappeared in the crowd, leaving a trail of laughter behind them. “Great. Just great,” she mumbled.

“Is there a problem?”

Raven looked up in the direction of the voice. A tall woman in a dark pin-striped suit and black heels glared down at her. The
sharp angles of the woman’s
face
were emphasized by the
severe bun she had scrapped her chestnut hair into
.

“Is there a problem?” The woman asked again, but it no longer sounded like a question. Even though her voice was still low and strong, there was a weird, powerful undercurrent that pushed a
nd twisted, as it wrapped
itself around Raven.

Raven blinked and shook her head. “No. No problem.
Just looking for my classroom.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Here let me see that.” She snatched the class schedule out of Raven’s hand. The woman studied the paper for several seconds. “Raven Weir,” she said as she held the paper away from her with two fingers.

“Yes,” Raven said slowly. She took her class schedule back.

“The biology lab is up stairs on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“T
hanks.” Raven started to leave.

“Your choice of hair color is not school appropriate.” An authoritative smugness flowed through the woman words.

“This is my natural hair color.”

“Why don’t we have the principal take a look at your hair and decide if it’s natural or not?”

“I’m not going to the principal’s office,” Raven declared.

“Students don’t tell teachers what to do.
We.
Tell.
You.
This way.”
The woman gestured towards the office.

Raven closed her eyes and groaned. “Great. Just great,” she mumbled under her breath as she went to the principal’s office with the woman. Students gave them
plenty of room. No one
want
ed
near the woman
or the weird vibes surrounding her
.

Forty minutes, one lecture about dress code and respect for teachers, a warning slip, and a promise from the principal about closely watching her, Raven was told to leave the office and go to
her second period class. Her
footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. As she passed several classrooms, she glanced over to see the woman who took her to the office glaring at her through the window in the one of the classroom doors. Raven
quickly
looked away and kept walking.

“I wonder what her problem
is?
” Raven asked herself and rolled her eyes.

The bell rang and Raven found herself surrounded by a flood of students pouring out of classrooms up and down the hall. She spotted her classroom a couple of doors down, but the moving mass of bodies and backpacks pre
vented her from crossing to the other
side. Pressed against the wall, she waited for
the students to pass
.

“If you’re waiting for the hall to clear, you’ll end up tardy. Mrs. Holmes is pretty cool abo
ut most stuff but tardiness sets
her off.” The girl speaking held out her hand.
“
I’m Leslie. Leslie Miller.”

Raven stared at the girl for a second. “Raven Weir,” she said and shook the girl’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Raven Weir.”
The girl’s emerald eyes sparkled.

“Same here.”
The corners of Raven’s lips turned up into a smile that reached her eyes. “How did you know I was going to Mrs. Holmes’s class?”

“Well,
either I’m
psychic, or I’m a good guesser, or I knew the new girl—that’s you—was in my second period English class.” Leslie winked and grabbed Raven’s arm. “You can sit with my group. I’ll tell Mrs. Holmes. We’ll help you get caught up with the project. What were you studying at your old school? We’re doing background projects on McCarthyism. We’ve got the Hollywood Blacklist. After the presentations, we’ll read Miller’s play. And no, he’s not a relative, though it would be cool if he was.” She rattled off the information and questions without pausing for a breath or waiting for an answer as she led Raven into the classroom.

“Hey, Leslie.”
A girl at the back of the room waved.

“Hey, Bree.”
Leslie bounced and waved back.

Seconds later Raven found herself surrounded by three girls, all with large, expressive eyes, and all talking at once. The conversation surround
ing Raven shifted topics so many
times,
she couldn’t keep up with any of them.

“Hey guys, this is Raven Weir. She’s going to join our group.” Leslie introduced Raven to the other two girls. She turned to Raven. “The carrot top is Bree Waters and the blonde is Ari Summers.”

“Hi!” The girls said.

“Pull up a desk. They’ll get you up to speed while I tell Mrs. Holmes you’re in our group.”
Leslie bounced off, leaving Raven with Bree and Ari, who immediately started talking.

“So what do you think about your teachers so far?” asked Ari.

“Have you seen Ethan Knight yet? He’s so handsome.” Bree sighed.

“And you have the biggest crush on him.” Ari grabbed Bree’s spiral notebook and opened it to the back. “See what I mean. Ethan and Bree
were
written everywhere. Crush deluxe.
And you can’t deny it.
”

“Hey, give that back or you’re going to find poison ivy growing in your locker,” threatened Bree.

“
Oooo
!
Like you can even make a dandelion grow.” Ari rolled her eyes.

“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny. Give me my spiral.”

Ari tossed the notebook to Bree. “Go ahead and hide it. But we all saw the writing.”

Bree shoved the notebook into her backpack. “So Raven, what’s your schedule like?”

“Not too bad, I guess.” Raven handed the scheduled over to Bree.  “This is the first class I’ve been to.”

“Why?” asked Leslie, who was back with the group.

One of the teachers took me to the office. She said it was because of me having blue dye in my hair, but I got the feeling she didn’t like me. I don’t know why.”

“But that’s not dye in your hair, that’s just—
Ouch
! What did you do that for?” Ari rubbed her
knee
.

“Sorry my foot slipped,” said Leslie. “It was probably Meritus Myers. She’s really into rules.” She looked at Raven’s schedule.
“Oh, lucky you.
You’ve got her for world history. Just be careful around her. She’s not what she seems.”

Raven started to ask her what she meant but the bell rang and Mrs. Holmes started class.

The girls spent the rest of the period looking up information and sharing notes with each other. By the time Raven thought about asking Leslie what she meant about Meritus Myers not being what she
seemed,
class was over and Raven was headed in the opposite direction.

Raven glanced at her schedule and smiled.
Ceramics.
No matter what school she went to, art was always her favorite subject.

The smell of wet clay and paint hit Raven the minute she walked into the art room. She closed her eyes and inhaled the earthy smells. Her fingertips started tingling. The electric sensations crept up her fingers until both of her hands itched in anticipation of shaping and molding the clay into something unique.

“Raven.
Raven Weir.”

Raven opened her eyes at the sound of her name. A tall, willowy woman stood in front of her. The woman’s brown hair, even though pulled back in a ponytail, draped over her right shoulder and hung down past her waist. A blue eye and a brown eye stared at her from an elfish face.

“I’m Sandy Orson.” She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Raven Weir,” said Raven. The strength in the woman’s hand surprised her, because the woman looked like a strong wind could knock her down.

“Yes. Melody Tamers called.”

“She did?” Raven bit her bottom lip. Teachers calling teachers never led to anything good. And worse, a teacher from her last school called. It had to be bad.

Sandy Orson smiled. “She wasn’t happy to see you leave. Said you have an uncanny talent with clay. That you can make it do anything you want it to.” She stared at Raven as if she expected Raven to deny what she said or to tell her the secret of how she did it.