Authors: E. van Lowe
"A thrilling suspense
fantasy book mixed with reality and some romance scenes that will get you hooked up till the end."
-Lalaine Faye, Lalaine's Fiction Book Reviews
Boyfriend From Hell
was a great surprise. I didn't know what to expect before reading it but it was a fast and fun read that made me laugh more than once. What made
Boyfriend from Hell
unique to me was the sometimes tongue-in-cheek tone it had. It's a great YA that's also poking fun at some of the predictable Young Adult clichés. If you like paranormal YA but sometimes find yourself rolling your eyes at the way the characters are acting, you'll love this book too."
-Lisa Choboter, Cold Moon Violet Books
"E. Van Lowe's fluid and masterful writing made this book one that I needed to finish."
-Elizabeth Talbott, Fishmuffins of Doom
"E. Van Lowe does a great job of capturing teenage angst, dating woes, and parental issues without over-doing it.
was just as fun to read as
Boyfriend From Hell
-Nicole Etolen, Pretty Opinionated
"I just finished the last sentence and I'm left stung that I have to wait for the final book to come out. I can't wait! I loved the first book, and was so excited by a story of a girl battling Satan. I mean, how cool is that?"
-Freda Mans, Freda's Voice
About the Author
Welcome to White Whisker Books
Other Books by E. Van Lowe:
Boyfriend From Hell
(Book 1 in the
Falling Angels Saga
(Book 2 in the
Falling Angels Saga
Never Slow Dance with a Zombie
The Zombie Only Knocks Twice
Copyright © 2012 by E. Van Lowe
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Printed Version ISBN: 978-0-9836329-5-5
Library of Congress Control Number:
Editor, Christopher Meeks
Book Design, Adara Rosalie
Published by White Whisker Books, Los Angeles, 2012
Summer had arrived, and love was in the air—although not for me. Definitely not for me.
The arrival of summer in America usually invokes visions of beach parties and bikini tops, summer barbecues and family softball games, sharing kisses with the one you love by the lake or by the light of a shimmery moon. The summertime grass is lush and green, thick like a shag carpet; the birds are singing happy songs as wild flowers drip a rainbow of color across a canvas of green.
Unfortunately, my America is the land known as Glendale, Arizona, where grass and flowers give way to sand and sagebrush, where summertime temperatures can reach a scorchy one hundred and fifteen by mid-afternoon. A walk from the car parked in your driveway to your front door can have a girl’s sneakers melting into the pavement as if she’s walking on fresh-chewed bubble gum. That same girl will be sweating like a basketball player in the NBA finals before she gets her key in the door. And, by the way, summers in Glendale start around mid-May and can stretch into October. So much for summer fun.
Even more unfortunate than the summertime heat, however, is when your best friend is so madly in love with the cute guy she met at The Explosion, she doesn’t seem to notice the blasted summertime heat.
can be more annoying than the heat itself.
“Hurry it up, Megan. We’ll be late,” called Maudrina. We were standing in her kitchen where she had just finished loading up a picnic basket with sandwiches, bags of chips, and fresh-baked cupcakes courtesy of Aunt Jaz. It was the last weekend before the final days of school. The prisoners were about to be sprung from the confining walls of Glendale Union High and were throwing themselves a party to celebrate their summertime escape. Maudrina was wearing the cutest black bikini under a sheer cover-up for the occasion, both of which were going to get her lots of attention.
“Will you please chill, Maudrina. We’re early—half an hour early. Besides, it’s hot as a stove top out there, and I’m in no hurry for every boy we know to see me sweating like a pig in an overcoat.” I was standing by the table in Maudrina’s kitchen, fanning myself with the church lady fan she kept handy for days like these.
“It’s only ninety degrees this afternoon,” she said, mashing down on the lid of the overstuffed picnic basket, trying to get it to close securely.
“No sane person uses the words
in the same sentence,” I responded, continuing to fan myself, although it was doing no good.
Maudrina and I were new to hanging out with the Poplarati. For most of our high school careers, we’d been invisible to the popular crowd. Then the angel I was in love with saved the event of the year from sure disaster, catapulting us into the social stratosphere.
Maudrina gazed at me with an indulgent smile. “You need to get ready.” She opened the basket and removed a bag of Cheetos the size of a small car.
“I want to get ready, I really do, but I have a bad feeling about today,” I said, lowering my voice for dramatic effect. I was wearing the jeans and tee I’d worn over to her house. My one piece swim suit was still stuffed into my bag because I was debating if the dive-in movie at Splashtopia waterpark was truly for me.
Maudrina stopped what she was doing and gave me a long stare. “You have a bad feeling every time I try to get you to do something social.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, my voice rising in false protest.
“You have to pick up the pieces, Sweetie.” She was staring at me with what I had begun to think of as
“I’m not saying I’m not going. I’m just saying I’ve got a bad feeling is all. You can’t ignore a bad feeling. Not with all I’ve been through.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You need to get ready.” Whatever pity may have been in her eyes a few moments earlier vanished along with my resolve. She again closed the basket lid and snapped the latch in place. “There,” she said, as if that was my cue to get moving.
Right then I came up with a simple plan—agree to go to the Dive-In Movie at Splashtopia, pretend to be enjoying myself, fake a headache after an hour or so, and so as not to spoil anyone’s fun—take a cab home, where I could mope around the house in peace.
“All right, all right,” I squawked in response to Maudrina’s cue. “But if some demented demon rises up out of the pavement by the wave pool and attacks us, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t. Now, get dressed.”
Maudrina was my best friend. She was only looking out for me. She knew I wouldn’t go anywhere if she didn’t drag me. It was hard for me to be social these days because I was in mourning. I’d been in mourning for the past eight weeks, ever since mid-March when my earth angel and the love of my life, Guy Matson, went away leaving behind a cryptic message implying he would not be coming back.
Many sit at his right hand
Two have fallen in the quest for man
Two have fallen, one will rise
The one to help you claim the prize
So even though your heart may yearn
Two have fallen, but only one shall return
The message stated my heart would yearn, meaning the one who returned would not be Guy.
Who else would my heart yearn for?
I guess the message wasn’t so cryptic after all.
I grabbed my bag off the counter and headed for the bathroom. I even smiled when I said “be right back” to let her know she’d won me over—NOT!
“Maybe you’ll even meet somebody today.”
“Hey, wouldn’t that be nice,” I called in response. My back was to her so she couldn’t see the disgusted look on my face at the thought of
Maudrina’s toy poodle, Piddles, danced around my feet as I walked. Both Piddles and Maudrina’s aging boxer, Sam, were gluttons for attention.
“Stop bothering Auntie Megan,” called Maudrina.
There was a time I found it odd that Maudrina treated her pets as though they were her children. Now it felt normal.
“Auntie Megan will be right out, Pids,” I said, scratching the top of Piddles’ head. “I need to get ready to
.” As I eased shut the bathroom door, Piddles shouted a few protesting barks from the other side before moving away. He didn’t want me meeting anyone, either.
I understood the value of having a pet now more than ever. Dogs were friends who would never desert you and could distract you when you needed distracting. I needed distracting—big time.
I unzipped my jeans and removed my swim suit from the bag. Thoughts of Guy began flooding in. That was the problem when dealing with a loss. You’d do something, or hear a song on the radio, or catch the smell of jasmine in the air, and the next thing you knew, you’d be transported back to the happy times, giving you a momentary feeling of elation as the happy thoughts washed over you, before reality returned leaving you shipwrecked upon the rocky shores of now… It’s amazing how poetic a girl can get when she’s in the dumps.
I’d never worn the swim suit before, and yet it reminded me of Guy. The silky fabric against my fingers conjured up all the dreams I’d had back at the beginning of the year of sharing summer adventures with him—adventures that would never be shared.
Then there was the pink-and-gray friendship bracelet on my left wrist. The bracelet was not only a constant reminder that Guy was gone; it was also a reminder of my role in his not being here. I fingered the braided bracelet. “Come back to me,” I whispered. As I sniffed back a tear, I realized this summer was going to be long and hot… and lonely.