Earth Forged - Gifting #7 - Sample - OUT NOW!

Chapter One

Izzy adjusted her T-shirt—the hem scratched her skin, and the sensation raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Everything irritated her. As lovely as the crisp blue sky was, with happy flocks of birds and tufts of white clouds, she boiled inside. The rage churned her gut and barreled up her throat. Each word she spewed was laced with venom.

Dad met her gaze in the rearview mirror and winked.

She huffed, folding her arms across her chest and focused on the passing scenery.

Mom and Simmy were discussing the merits of Jane Austen's Emma.

Izzy gritted her teeth. Ms.-Goody-Two-Shoes Simmy basked in Mom's attention. Her grades were exemplary, whereas Izzy couldn't pass English, her home language. No offense to Austen fans, but she couldn't wrap her head around the way it was written. Shakespeare was as much a mystery.

Give her something to do with her hands, and she could master it. But studying was for the...well, birds.

"What do you think about Emma, pumpkin?" Dad asked.

She grinned. "I don't think about Emma, Dad."

"I'd be happy to give you a crash course, Izzy, so you won't have to read it next year." Simmy flashed a sweet smile and reached across the backseat to squeeze Izzy's arm.

"No, Simmy, Izzy must read it. There are no shortcuts in life." Mom twisted to face Izzy. "Perseverance is a necessary trait. Especially with things you hate."

Izzy wrinkled her nose. "Does an audiobook count?"

Mom laughed. "It's not a shortcut when it takes twice as long to listen than to read."

"Mrs. Granger said reading builds your vocabulary. It also helps with comprehension." Simmy dropped those little gems of wisdom then peered out the window as Dad pulled into the parking lot. The park stretched for miles on either side. Colors exploded in the plants, flowers, and the aviary nearby blasted the silence with raucous calls and cries.

Mrs. Granger, Izzy mouthed, pulling a face.

"I saw that." Simmy tapped the window. "If you read more, your grades would improve. If you spent less time doing track, you could focus on studying."

Heat burst across Izzy's face, and she narrowed her eyes, conveying as much hatred as she could muster. "If you did more track, your ass wouldn't be so big."

Mom gasped. "Izzy."

"Language." Dad shook his head, tossing his mop of curls so like Izzy's.

Simmy's face paled then flushed. "My ass can shrink or grow, but your brain will always be the size of a pea."

"Simmy, that was uncalled for." Mom opened the car door. "Izzy's smart, just in a different way."

"Sure she is." Simmy laughed.

Izzy trembled. Her fingernails dug into her palms, and she thumped her thigh before climbing out of the car. When she circled the trunk, Dad was pulling out the picnic basket. Mom clutched the blanket to her chest and raised her face to the warm unfiltered sunlight.

Simmy stood on the verge, overlooking the bank sliding into the surrounding trees. A breeze caught her luxurious mane of blonde curls, so unlike Izzy's tight ringlets. And her ass wasn't big, far from it. Everything about Simmy was perfect, from her long legs to her pretty green eyes she got from Mom.

Izzy had Mom's short height, Dad's curls, and gray eyes, and of course, her stupidity was all her own.

"Here, take the umbrella." Dad dumped the ancient thing in Izzy's arms and strolled past lazy-Simmy by the steps descending to the picnic area. Mom trailed, chatting to Dad about the mocktail she had made as a starter.