My Life as the Ugly Stepsister

“Luckily we aren’t their biggest worry.” He stopped inside the gym door. “Want to go watch X-men?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Two hours later, we dragged our sleeping bags into the hall. Chaos still reigned in the gym, but they’d designated the hall for sleeping. Two chaperones watched like hawks from either end.

We lay side by side, talking softly. Jonathan was telling me about Dave and Colin’s antics. They sounded a little crazy, and I could totally see my friends hooking up with them.

“Can you spend the night with Caroline every once in a while?” Jonathan asked.

“Sure. They’ll watch me though.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “We can just hang or play ball or something. We don’t have to spend all our time making out.”

I snorted. “We don’t?”

“Well,” he said with a sigh. “In a perfect world…”

Eventually, clipboard guy came by and said, “Sleeping bags two feet apart.”

I scooted and he scooted and we managed the required space.

Clipboard guy nodded and walked down the hall to someone else.

Jonathan reached out and found my hand. “I liked the dogs better.”

I just smiled.

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Chapter One of The Karma Beat by Juli Alexander and Chapter One of Amanda Brice’s Pointe of No Return.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Juli Alexander writes young adult romances and paranormal young adult fiction. The Karma Beat will be followed by the sequel—The Techno Echo—in early 2013. Check out Stirring Up Trouble and the sequel—Trouble’s Brewing. Stirring Up Trouble and Valentine’s Day Sucks are available now at all retailers. Trouble’s Brewing will be released summer 2012. Don’t forget to check out the YA anthology, Eternal Spring, featuring “Camp Cauldron” by Juli Alexander.

Juli’s house is overrun with dogs, dirty laundry, and teenage boys. writing keeps her relatively sane. You can find her at julialexanderauthor.com or on twitter @juli_alexander.

Chapter One of The Karma Beat

by Juli Alexander

Available now at all retailers.

Chapter One

If I had to live in a bottle like my ancestors, I’d go totally nuts. Being trapped in American government for fifty-five minutes on Wednesday afternoon was hard enough.

When the bell finally rang to release us, my best friend Alex jumped up and grabbed her books. “I’ve got to get to trig early. I’ll see you at the game.”

“See you there,” I answered, hoping I could keep my promise. There had been so much genie activity in the past few months in Atlanta that here it was, mid-February, and I had missed every one of her basketball games.

I’m a genie. Yeah, I know, but it’s the truth. There are two types of genies in the world. The djinn from the Arab legends, and the people like me, descended from Europe, the Americas, Australia, and Great Britain. There are similarities but all references to genies like me have been successfully deleted from the oral and written traditions.

When someone racks up enough Karma points, the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. sends a genie like me to grant three wishes. At seventeen, I’ve been activated earlier than most because of the high wish volume in Atlanta. And because of my mother’s connections. She isn’t a genie, but she does work for the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. in an administrative capacity.

I glanced at my purple cell phone from Genie Communications. One more class to get through. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

Apparently it was. Just as the last bell of the day rang, my cell vibrated. Terrific. I couldn’t refuse a summons. Goodbye basketball game. The plan had been for me to fetch my little brother from home and take him to the game with me. Mom would know to have my older brother, Ian, cover for me. As my mentor, Mom got updates on everything I did.

I picked up my stack of books from the desk and headed for the nearest restroom. I had less than five minutes to respond before I’d be zapped to the client. I pushed my way into a graffiti-covered stall and pulled my cell out of my pocket. The screen read, Mrs. Monroe. After a deep breath, I hit accept and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I stood in a living room crammed full of knickknacks. An elderly African-American woman was napping on the worn sofa under a colorful crocheted afghan. The scent of Ben Gay or Vick’s VapoRub filled the air. Arthritis, or a chest cold?

The woman hadn’t taken off her thick, oversized glasses before falling asleep. She snored softly, and I smiled. I liked her. Even if she’d finally accrued enough karma points for three wishes at a very inconvenient time. I didn’t know what she’d done to earn the points. The U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. kept all those details secret. They didn’t even let their employees know how many points each type of good deed earned.

Mrs. Monroe’s wrinkles and white hair made me think she was in her seventies or eighties. Most of my clients were. Although, occasionally they were much younger.

I conjured up a little fog with a wave of my hand. When she woke from her nap, Mrs. Monroe would believe she’d dreamed my visit. Over the years, the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. had discovered that adding some fog or altering the background could help. I didn’t much like the feeling of floating up in the clouds, so I generally did the fog thing.

“Mrs. Monroe,” I said in a soft voice. I’d never quite gotten the hang of waking people up. I cleared my throat and added in a louder voice, “Ma’am. I need you to listen to me.”

The elderly woman opened her eyes, her gaze dreamy. My appearance didn’t alarm her. What did she have to fear from a freckle-faced teen in a retro U2 t-shirt? It wasn’t like I was intimidating. Other genies had to change their appearance. A big burly male genie might really scare somebody.

“You’re a redhead,” she said.

“Yes.” My fiery hair usually stood out. “Mrs. Monroe,” I said moving into the center of the room. “I need to talk to you about your life. Can you tell me about yourself?” I had to be sure she was alert and not still dreaming or I wouldn’t get her true wishes.

She nodded slowly. In a sleepy voice, she said, “Yes, dear. I’m Mrs. Wilbur Monroe, mother of four, grandmother of four. I have two great-grandbabies, and I sing in the church choir. I make the best macaroni and cheese in the state, and I’ve crocheted blankets for over two hundred babies.” She smiled, still sleepy.

“If I could grant you three wishes,” I asked slowly, “what would they be?”

“Three wishes,” she murmured. “I’m an old woman. My needs are simple.” She thought for a few moments. “I suppose I’d want my great grandbabies to go to college.”

I nodded, granting the wish.

“I’d wish for my daughter-in-law to get better. She’s got breast cancer.”

I nodded again. Another woman had just beat breast cancer.

“And I’d ask to stay in my house until it’s my time to pass on. I don’t want to live in a nursing home.”

With a final nod, I said, “Thank you, Mrs. Monroe. Enjoy your nap.”

She closed her eyes. When she woke, her daughter-in-law’s cancer would be in remission. Someone at the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. would keep an eye on her bank account and make sure she could pay for any necessary at-home healthcare. She’d probably never see the great grandchildren graduate from college, but that would happen too. Mrs. Monroe would never know I was real. I’d always be a dream to her.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my home number. Then I hit the enter button twice and took a step into the large kitchen pantry in my house. I hated that I always entered through here. Half the time, I couldn’t resist grabbing the bag of Doritos before leaving the kitchen. Today I steeled myself to walk past a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

Pushing open the bi-fold doors, I stepped into the kitchen and looked at the clock. I never could believe how long those genie visits took. After five! I’d missed Alex’s game. She was going to kill me.

I dialed Alex’s cell.

She didn’t say hello. Instead she snapped, ?

??Where are you?”

“Sorry, Alex. I’m really, really sorry.”

Instead of responding, she hung up.