Five Star Reviews for Atlantis Academy:
"Omg this book was amazing I couldn't put it down or stop reading. I carried it with me open on my phone while I did everything just to keep reading. I need more of all of this. Epic story, epic content, epic...
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Should've listened
to my intuition—
Not the man you pretended to be.
Never thought you'd betray me.
A pop song blares in my ears. I groan and roll over, burying my head in my pillow, waving around blindly to find my clock radio. Ugh. It's time to get up and get going because I have work in a few hours. I finally find the snooze button and slam it off.
Holy crap is my head pounding. And I'm so thirsty.
I crack an eye and groan. It's only noon. I have time. Just a little more sleep. Just a few minutes.
I had the worst dream. The worst. It was so messed up, I just want to go back to sleep and have a better dream to reset myself.
Should've listened
to my intuition
knew somethin' was wrong
now I gotta be strong
I shoot up in bed and slam the clock radio off for good this time. Argh. Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck?
I cuddle back under my faded pink and cream paisley comforter and sigh. Gray light's streaming through the blinds in my bedroom window. Dust motes float through the air, dancing in the cool light.
My shift isn't until this afternoon. I'm fine.
My stomach lets out a growl, and I flip onto my back and stare up at the cracked plaster and the ancient light fixture on my ceiling. It's ornate, cloudy glass, etched with flowers. Old ceiling paint crusts around the edges. Ugly thing, and it doesn't even work anymore.
My stomach growls even more loudly.
"Fine!"
I was dreaming about chocolate donuts. I wouldn't mind one of those before work.
I throw off my covers and swing my legs onto the floor.
Oh, God.
I'm still wearing my clothes from last night. My jeans are stiff, streaked with salt and sand. My t-shirt is wrinkled and stretched out.
It wasn't a nightmare.
I hop out of bed, tossing my covers to the floor, horror making it hard to breathe.
My bed's filled with sand.
I whirl around, seeking my windbreaker. My room's a mess, as always, covered in piles of clothes, old cords, papers, hair ties, books, who knows. I tear through it all, my heart racing, throwing things every which way.
I whirl around, setting my sights on my peeling, white children's desk. There. My windbreaker is on top of the stack of books I got when the library closed.
