Lessons Learned
Authors: Sydney Logan
Contents
First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2012
Copyright © Sydney Logan, 2012
The right of Sydney Logan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the
Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Bible verses were taken from the King James Verison of the Bible.
Macbeth
by William Shakespeare
Annabel Lee
by Edgar Allan Poe, written in 1849
“Amazing Grace” by John Newton
iPod is a trademark of Apple Inc., registered in the U.S. and other countries.
The Writer’s Coffee Shop
(Australia) PO Box 447 Cherrybrook NSW 2126
(USA) PO Box 2116 Waxahachie TX 75168
Paperback ISBN- 978-1-61213-115-3
E-book ISBN- 978-1-61213-116-0
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
Cover image by: © Paul Aniszewski
Cover design by: Jennifer McGuire
http://www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/slogan
About the Author
Sydney Logan lives in the hills of East Tennessee. She has spent her life educating children and has recently made the transition from bookworm to author. She has a very unhealthy obsession with music, and her iPod
®
is filled with everything from Johnny Cash to Eminem. When she isn't reading or writing, she enjoys playing piano and relaxing on her front porch with her wonderful husband and their very spoiled cat. For more information, please visit http://www.sydneylogan.com.
Acknowledgments
To Wyndy—my lead editor who told me she cried while reading my manuscript. For a new author with little confidence, it was exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you for making the editing process a smooth one. I hope this is the first of many books for the two of us.
To Kathie—my biggest cheerleader, and most importantly, my friend. You held my hand from start to finish, and I am beyond grateful.
To Shaina—you’ve stood by my side since the very beginning of this writing journey. Thank you for being my friend.
To Krista—thank you for reading every word of this manuscript and offering valuable advice.
To Janine and Shay—thank you for your support and encouragement throughout this entire process.
Special thanks to Jennifer for the beautiful cover art.
Thanks to Heather and Hayley for their help with the website and to Rebekah for designing the gorgeous book trailer.
To my sister—See? No scrunchies. :)
And finally, to my husband—you are my very own “Lucas.” I love you.
Dedication
To my parents,
who taught me it was okay to ask questions and have an opinion,
even if it wasn’t the most popular one.
I love you.
“
Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one’s own beliefs. Rather it condemns the oppression or persecution of others.”
John F. Kennedy
Prologue
Voices roar through the high school cafeteria as students navigate their way to the tables. The cliques are easily spotted: the jocks, the geeks, the beauty queens, the slackers . . .
Where will he sit today?
Despite the fact he’s a handsome and impeccably dressed young man, he fades into the background. Knowing it’s pointless, the girls don’t bother to look his way, and the guys deliberately avoid his eyes.
He grips his tray tightly and heads toward the corner table with the rest of the outcasts. They nod hello, but that’s the end of any real attempt at conversation. It’s an unspoken rule of sorts. This is their refuge—a tiny bit of sanctuary in the hell that is public high school—and they’re content to sit in peace.
He takes a seat, and I can see the exhaustion on his face. It’s not a weariness that comes from too many sleepless nights. This is a bone-tired fatigue no seventeen-year-old kid should ever feel.
He’s giving in.
Giving up.
In my peripheral vision, I see a senior stalk into the cafeteria. He’s tall, with deep brown eyes and jet-black hair that won’t stay in place. He’s good looking, popular, and a little conceited, thanks to his father’s wealth and status.
He has a reputation to uphold.
Rumors to squash.
A score to settle.
He pulls the silver gun out of his jacket pocket. Amid the chaos, no one notices.
I notice.
I try to run, but I’m frozen in place.
I try to scream, but there’s no sound.
The first shot rings out, and suddenly, everyone’s on the cold tile.
Tears, prayers, screams.
Another shot, and for some reason, I’m the only one who can’t move. Who can’t scream. Who can’t do anything but watch as the young man’s body slumps over his tray.
Finally, I find my voice and scream his name.
Chapter 1
The piercing chime of my phone jerked me awake. Disoriented and shaking, I grabbed my cell and struggled to focus on the screen.
Congratulations, Sarah. You slept a whole three hours.
Falling asleep had been difficult. My restlessness could easily be blamed on yesterday’s long drive or spending the night in a new place, but I hadn’t slept well in months, so my fitful sleep wasn’t all that surprising.
However, I could do without the nightmares.
It was nearly three in the morning when I’d finally arrived in Sycamore Falls. Exhausted from the drive, I’d collapsed on the couch, but sleeping proved impossible. It was just too quiet. I’d grown accustomed to noisy neighbors and blasting car horns.
