Authorgraph Live!

Friday, December 6, 2013

The Long Awaited Sequel Is Out!













http://www.amazon.com/The-Legacy-Birthright-Series-Volume/dp/1492918032/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1386357298&sr=8-4&keywords=Sue+Mydliak

I've been gone I realize that, sick and under much stress, but here today to let you all know that I haven't left and that the long awaited sequel to Birthright is finally here, The Legacy, and at Amazon in both paperback and eBook formats.

It has received a 5 star review so far, which I'm really excited about and I've added at the end, the first chapter of the third and final book to this series.  Due out next year.

The third and final book of the Birthright series is going to be my crowning achievement, in that, I plan on doing something that the first two books don't have.  I think readers of all ages will like what they see and hopefully it'll add to the excitement that this last book has to offer.  It'll be a bit more
on the 'artsy' side, as far as, the interior goes and I don't know if any self-published authors have done
this yet with a fictional book. 

Getting excited yet?  Hope so.

You may have noticed, slight changes within each book, so just be prepared for my last one.

Get your copy of The Legacy, you won't want to miss what's happening to Candra now!  It's positively mind blowing.  I mean that . . . literally!




 

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Alone

Day after day
I rise and weep
for the world outside is so cold
and yet, I am to believe that this is not true
but tis the truth.
The lost soul of one who I teach, reach and give
is a battle unto himself and I am the lone warrior
who must defend myself from him, for he knows not
what he does and when I reach for help there is
none to give nor receive…for I am by myself in this.
When I revel in my successes I call to those most
dear to my heart, but goes on bended ear, none shall
hear and so I weep.
It is those that I speak of, those who I’ve known all my
life that I weep mostly for, for I, the accused, am blamed
for the attendance I give not and yet, when I call out to them
they hear me not and so I weep once more.
It is now that I must contemplate what I desire most and that
is my happiness and so I shall.
You shall not hear from me again, nor feel the warm embrace
for I who so willingly gave to you and was shunned, close up the
walls and leave the coldness out and there I shall be, alone, content
and happily so.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

I'll say it again...

I know I've said some things on marketing yourself as an author, and how to get your books out to the masses, but I've got more to add.

I can't stress enough how important it is to have business cards with your book, author website and author email on it to pass out to people wherever you are!  Novel postcards are awesome too, because on the one side you have your book cover with a link to where people can purchase them, on the other side a synopsis of what it's about.  Right there, that simple little 3x5 card can sell a book in minutes!  I kid you not!

For example, I went to a book signing at Hanks Farm Restaurant, given by the Book Mouse and as always,
I had my business cards and novel postcards with me.  As we sat down at the table, oh, this was a dinner book signing event, anyway, as we sat down we shook hands with three people that sat next to me and my husband, another author friend came in, Jakob Waitekus, and sat down next to us as well.  So, names were given out and conversations kicked in.  Much to my surprise, my husband mentioned that Jakob and I were authors as well with the Book Mouse and so that's where I got my motor running.

They asked what I wrote and that's when I gave out my novel postcards.  All three of them read the synopsis and were quite eager to get their copies as well, they even asked me to sign their postcards too!  I also told them that I would be at the Riverfest, August 3rd, which is in Ottawa, Illinois selling and signing my books. They couldn't wait and asked about other books that I had written, to which, I told them and said that they'd find all my books on Amazon under my name.

Needing to get Jakob noticed about his book, I asked him if he had his business cards to give to them as well, and sadly he didn't have them with him. He could of had a sale, if he had his cards.

It's so very important, even if your book isn't even published yet, to get yourself business cards and novel postcards, and give them out religiously!  I even went as far as getting a large window decal of my book
and where to get it and put it on the back window of my Smart Car.

It doesn't take a lot of time to make them, in fact, you can go through Vista Print, Walgreen's or even Office Max and get them made!  All you need to do is either use your own image or one of theirs and fill in the information.  That's it!  Simple right?  Yes!

I got to say, can't always rely on others to market your book, especially if you self-publish.  Just takes a little thought, and thinking outside the box.

Good luck to all you new authors!


Monday, June 3, 2013

The Trump Card

              It was another crap day in Dry Prong and I was fit to be tied.  For days on end the weather had been gloomy, gray and wet.  Rain kept on coming and not letting up at all and I swore I thought I saw someone pull out their canoe.
                I looked over at Willodean Ferris’ house and so far it hadn’t budged off its foundation, not yet that is, but her yard was beginning to look like a pond or so the geese thought so, for there were three of them gliding along the water. I decided to give her a call.
                “Hey Willodean, how are you holding up?”
                “Oh, I guess alright, but you know, I’m really worried about something?” Her voice got all shaky when she spoke.
                “What’s troubling you?” Now, if you know Willodean like I do, then you know a bug could have smiled at her and she’d be having a fit.
                “Well, the geese seemed to have found a home in my back yard and . . . well, what’s gonna happen when the water dries up?”
                See, I told you so. “I guess they’ll just fly away to some other pond.  Is that a problem?”
                “Well, yeah that’s a problem, because were like family now. I mean, look how content they are back there! I wouldn’t want them to leave thinking I took their water away from them. I don’t like hurting anybody you know that, even if they are just animals.”
                I stood there for a moment, let what she just said sink in real deep and then spoke, “Hunny, I don’t think those geese could care less if you had water or not, because they’re just geese! They go wherever they find water and park themselves in it. They don’t know whose lawn or park it is, they just come!”
                “Oh, Charlese, now you don’t mean that really do you? They certainly do know where they’re at. They know it’s me, because I always leave bread crumbs out for them to eat on the old tree stump.”
                “Willodean, unless you have a sign that says, The Honkers Bread Tray Café, they really don’t know.  To them its food left outside, nothing else.”
                There was silence for a few seconds, I could hear her breathing, sniffling . . . sniffling?
                “Willodean are you crying?”
                “No, I mean, yes. They can’t leave me! Charlese will you help me make a fence around my pond so that they won’t fly away?”
                I was afraid of this, I surely was. I could see it coming just as plain as the nose on my face and it did, big time. I wanted to tell her that putting up that stupid fence wasn’t going to keep them . . . they can fly for pity sake! As for the pond, it wasn’t going to stay either, because there was never a pond to begin with, it’s just over soaked ground.  Pond my fat brothers ass. Tension was building up inside me.
                “Are you serious? Willodean, they can fly, they have wings and all. Putting up that fence . . .”
                “Don’t you tell me another negative thought Charlese, you’re gonna help me like a friend should and that’s all there is to it.  Now, you coming to help me or are you gonna be impolite?”
                She just trumped me, the impolite card. My gran always told me to be polite, to be neighborly, because what you give to those in need you reap big rewards.  I like to know what my big reward was gonna be putting up that fence. I would also like to know where Gran learned that from, because whoever said it didn’t know Willodean very well.
                “Oh, alright I’ll be over.” I slammed the phone down on its receiver and swore a bunch of times as I stomped into my bedroom to get my work clothes.
                Willodean has done some dumb things in her life, but I would have to say that this beat them all. I was testy, tugging at my clothes as I changed and shoved my feet into my crummy old tennis shoes.  I was so mad I wanted to just throw my shoes instead.  I wanted to throw them at something or someone, Willodean perhaps. The thought made me smile. “No, I can’t do that.”
                Then I stomped my way over to her house. She stood there cooing at the dumb geese and talking all sugary to them, made my stomach turn it did.  I cleared my throat to get her attention.
                “Oh, you’ve come to help me how thoughtful!” She smiled so big that her teeth and gums took up most of her face. Charming.
                “Yeah . . . thoughtful. What do you want me to do?” I so did not want to be here. No, no, no!
                “Well, see that chicken wire and those metal fence thingies, we need to put the fence thingies in the ground, space them about three feet apart in a nice circle, then we’ll wrap the chicken wire around them!”
                I didn’t say anything, because if I had, well, you don’t want to know. I went over took one of the green, metal thingies and began to shove them into the ground. Good thing the ground was soaked, because it just made working easier and faster. There is a God. As soon as I got all the posts in, I looked for Willodean to see if she was ready for the chicken wire . . . she was. I just drooped my head in disbelief. There she was, draped with a chef apron, long, long, green cleaning gloves and goggles. Oh, and shower cap. Her hands held up in front of her as if she were about to operate.
                “What in blue blazes are you dressed up like that for?” I felt the pangs of laughter creeping up and I slapped my hand over my mouth when it kicked in.
                With the look of sheer seriousness she said, “Why Charlese, when you’re working with wire you should always be safe.”
                That’s when I let it rip. “Safe? Safe from what?”
                She straightened herself up taller and glared at me. “Why safe from getting hurt by the wire of course!”
                I sniggered. “Ok, Willodean, whatever.  Let’s just get this done so I can enjoy the rest of my day.”
                The drizzle of rain that had been falling just kept on, and I was becoming cold and terse. There I was holding the roll of chicken wire as Go Go Gadget hooked the wire around the posts. It looked dreadful, but Willodean thought it was a work of art. I was just glad to be finished.
                “There, see? Doesn’t it look lovely? And my geese will always be here to greet me! I could sit out here and share my lunch with them and watch them swim. Thank you Charlese for helping me.”
                Seeing her face all lit up like a candle and hearing how thrilled she was at having them geese in her yard, well, I was happy for her. “Glad to have helped. I’m going now, take care.”
                I slowly turned myself around and headed home.
                The days of doom and gloom finally left and I woke to find sun shine coming through my windows. It was going to be a great day.
                “Come back, come back don’t leave, look I have bread crumbs!”
                I didn’t have to look, I already knew what had happened. The geese were leaving, just like I told her.
                “Stupid birds!”
                “Geese . . . “I mumbled to myself.
               

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

The Shredded Wheat Catastrophe


Dry Prong was having its usual dry season, where everything and everyone screamed for water. Just this morning I looked at my front lawn and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Shredded wheat.” That’s what my lawn looked like. All I needed was a little milk and my breakfast would be complete.

“Hey, Charlese! Whatcha looking at?”

Billy Beauford had just walked up and caught me starring at what once was a beautiful, green lawn. “Oh, hey yourself, what brings you out this way?”

Now I’ve known Billy since I was knee high to a grasshopper and even then I didn’t like him much, but now that I’ve grown up I don’t kick him in the shines anymore, I’ve resisted those temptations.

“I was on my way to the Five and Dime to get me a Coke. You want to come along?”

“Why sure, just you mind yourself though. I’m hot and cantankerous, a force you do not want to mess with.” I was too. Gran, if she was still around, would stay clear away from me when I was in such a mood.

“Oh, no, no, no . . . “and held the last no out for a few seconds longer before stopping.

I eyed him curiously, “We’ll just see about that.” I was cautious, but decided to go anyway, besides, the thought of a icy, cold drink sounded real good.

The Five and Dime was a mile down the road and by the time we got there sweat was trickling down my back. I looked over at Billy and he looked as though he’d had just finished running a race. His t-shirt was drenched and his face was beat red.

As I came up to the door, Billy ran in front and opened it for me. “After you.” And swept his arm toward the opening, a jester of gentlemanly ways, I wasn’t having any of it. If I had known any better, which I do, he was up to something. I eyed him curiously.

“What?” He questioned.

“You know what; I know what you’re up to, so you can just get them thoughts out of your head.”

“Charlese, I wouldn’t . . .”

Again, I said nothing but gave him my look of death. He shut his mouth real quick like.

Now the Five and Dime store is not one I frequent a lot, but when I do, it’s usually for their sale items that I may need from time to time. Making my way toward the back of the store, I noticed how eerily quiet and still it was. I looked over at the owner who always stood behind the front counter. He seemed to be ok, but as I stared longer I noticed he hadn’t flinched or moved a muscle. Odd, that’s when I turned back around and went to the counter.

“Mr. Zamood? Um, you ok?” I waved my hand in front of his face . . . nothing. He was so still, like a wooden duck floating on a pond.

I went hesitantly went about my business, looking over at Mr. Zamood every once in awhile when I came face to face with a drink.

“Here you go Charlese! I went ahead and got you a drink. Hope you like it, it’s Coke.” He was grinning from ear to ear and so pleased with himself.

Slightly startled I replied politely, “Why thank you Billy, that was real nice of you.” I sparkled and oozed excitement, which made his day.

We went over to the counter where Mr. Zamood stood stock still.  Billy, not realizing what was going on was jabbering away, fishing his money out of his pocket while complaining how hot the weather was.

“Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think something is wrong with Mr. Zamood, see.” I pointed hoping he’d see what I was talking about and he did. Next thing I knew Billy was waving his hand and making faces at the man. Really?

“Billy, even though Mr. Zamood . . . “

Then the strangest thing happened, Mr. Zamood started to foam at the mouth and his eyes rolled back into his head.  He was convulsing!

“Billy get away!” But it was too late. Mr. Zamood grabbed a hold of Billy’s throat and pulled him inward.

Protection mode set in and I grabbed his ankles and held on for dear life.  There we were, having ourselves a human tug-of-war and as far as I could see Mr. Zamood was winning.

“You let go of him you hear me?” I placed my feet against the bottom of the front counter, using it as leverage, but for some strange reason, Mr. Zamood was extremely strong, especially for being sixty-nine years old. Nothing I said to him got through he was bound and determined to have Billy for himself and on any given day I’d say go for it, but his was different, Billy was in danger.

I looked around desperately for anything I could use as a weapon and the only thing I spotted was a stand for Zippo Lighters.  Now, for a few seconds the thought of zombies came to mind and I remember watching a TV show that had burning zombies in a road.  Mr. Zamood didn’t seem like a zombie normally, but today he had all the signs of being just that.  I took a deep breath; I realized I had to kill a man.  I was not going to make Gran happy, that’s for sure.

The trick now was how to get one of them lighters without losing Billy in the process.  I was only inches away, so if I let go for just a second not much would happen, hopefully.

“Sorry Billy, but I have to do this, but you’ll thank me in the end!”

“What?”

I let go with my left hand and off he went over the counter. I quickly grabbed me a shiny, red lighter, flicked open the lid and clicked the leaver which would ignite gas with spark. All this time, Billy was battling a life and death situation and it wasn’t looking too good either.

“Alright you, I warned you and now you’re toast!” I reached over the counter and lit the corner of Mr. Zamoods shirt. It caught fire real fast and the flames spread up and outward as his whole shirt was now  on fire.  He started to scream and bat at the flames, while I yelled at Billy to run.

“Come on Billy let’s get out of here quick!”

I waited as he climbed over the counter and out we went. We ran until our legs couldn’t run no more and then sank to the ground with exhaustion. I had never in my life been so afraid.

“You ok?” I said panting like a dog in summer.  My throat was even more parched than when we first started out. 

We sat there for awhile, sirens coming from a distance got louder and louder as black smoke streamed up into the sky. Billy just pointed as he gasped for a breath.  I didn’t even want to imagine what was going on now, but I had a pretty good idea.  Not only was Mr. Zamood on fire, but the store too.  Oh, boy.

“What do you suppose Mr. Zamood was?”  Sounding breathy.

I hadn’t a clue.  Mr. Zamood wasn’t from these parts, he was from India, and if their culture had a tendency for zombies then I guess that’s what he was, but I couldn’t be sure. I knew though that we’d never know the real answer, dead people don’t talk or so I’ve been told.

“Know what Billy?” You owe me a Coke, but seeing how I’m feeling generous, how about you coming over and I’ll give you one?”

Billy smiled like I’ve never seen him smile before. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, but mind you, this ain’t no invitation for catching some bases. You just mind your p’s and q’s or else!”

“Oh, sure, sure, I’ll behave, besides you saved my life, I ain’t gonna ruin that for nothing. So, um, thank you.”

We were only minutes away from my house and by the time we had reached my front porch I told him to have a seat and I’d be right back.  I went in to the kitchen and opened the cabinet.  I decided to use my bright, orange tumblers that Gran had gotten from Woolworths a long time ago.  They always made me feel special and today I was feeling special.  I had just saved a person’s life and to me, that was a big deal.

Just as I was pouring two hands wrapped themselves around my waist.  I hadn’t heard Billy come in.

“Charlese, I just want you to know, just how appreciative I am by the way you saved my life today. That was a brave thing you did today.” He snuggled in closer and I got the rare feeling that he was overly grateful in more ways than one. 

“Billy, if you don’t let go of me this instant, I’ll show you the meaning of the word appreciate real fast.”  But my words went on deaf ears as lips nuzzled my neck.

Two can play this game.

I brought my arms up, in a jester that gave the impression that I was allowing him to take pleasure in me and then, without a flinch from me, grabbed a handful of hair in both hands and pulled.

“Oh, Charlese let go, let go! You’re hurting me!” His hands reached up to grab mine, but I let him have it below and kicked him in the shins. He was owing and ooing as legs were going up and down, trying to diverge my feet.

“Why should I? You weasel you! How dare you take liberties on me after what I did! Are you insane?” I held on fast, I wasn’t letting this one go, not yet at least.

“I’m sorry, just let go!” Sorry my ass.

“If I let go, you promise to walk out that door and never, and I mean never come back to my house again?” He squirmed and thought on that for a second.

“I promise, just let go!”

I held on for a little bit longer.  I was enjoying seeing him squirm like a worm on a hook, but I knew I had to let him go, so I did and backed away.

“Out!” And pointed to the direction of my door.

He rubbed his head all the while looking like a bad puppy with his tail between his legs . . . come to think of it; you could probably take that literally. He moseyed past me and out the door, the whole time rubbing his damn head.  I watched him go down the steps off my porch, across the yard to the street and back to his house.  Good.

Just before I went in to clean up, I looked at my lawn and sighed.

 

 

               

 

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Undermined






Out of the darkness they crept, slithering across floors cold and dusty.

I am not alone.
And one by one, in numbers great and small, they took the life from me.
I was but the few.
From their deeds, that took without greed, all that I had cherished.
I feared great loss.
But up from those, who took from me, their battle they have lost.
I am but many.
And now have claimed all that I am, and all that will ne’er be taken again.
I have won . . .
                  The battle done . . .
                                           My life is my own to keep.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Ruthie's Misadventures


                My life in general is normal, well, normal in the sense that I eat, breathe, sleep like a human, among other things, but there is one thing that you’d consider not human, I shape-shift. Yeah, I’m an oddity alright.
                I often dream of swooping through the air, surprising unsuspecting foes and hearing them scream as I fly away…dream is the keyword here. As it is I shift into a field mouse. Grand.
                Oh, I still get the screams, but it’s the leaving or escaping part that I can never do well.  So, I don’t shift often, only when necessary, which brings me to my story.
                Because of my oddness, I don’t have many friends.  I don’t know why, but I have a hunch−I smell mousey, I think.  Why do I think that? Well, for several reasons, 1. No one will sit next to me in class, 2. I never get picked for anyone's team in P.E. and 3. The most obvious, they pinch and scrunch their noses at me. I feel like a walking stink bomb that keeps exploding.
                One day I overheard Pamela Turner whisper to her friend that they were going to play a prank on me. This is what my life has become, life of pranks and this time I wasn't haven't it anymore.
                I don’t know why everyone thinks that if you don’t fit in their category of coolness you automatically are a geek.  Ok, so my clothes aren’t designer, but they’re clean and my hair may not always look pristine, but it's not a mess either.  Face it, I am what I am and I guess for all purposes I’m a geek in their eyes.
                Back to the jest of the story. Being pranked on was stressful and I thought I’d do my own pranking, lunch time seemed like a great opportunity to start.
                Third period is my lunch, the first of the day, perfect.  While everyone was in line getting their food, I went into the nearest bathroom to shift.  I chose this particular bathroom because no one went in it because of a field mouse, not me, was seen in there last week, so all the girls stayed out now.  Brilliant and smiled.
                Once in form, I squeezed under the door and made my way toward the cafeteria.  I kept to the wall, I figured I’d be less seen there and less likely to get stepped on.  I couldn’t believe how dirty our school floors were though and made a mental note to thoroughly wash my hands before I ate my lunch.
                As I entered, I scanned the room looking for Pamela and her group.  They weren’t hard to find, I just followed the loud, high pitched voices and voila, there they were!  Bitches. If my mother knew how bad I spoke, my mouth would have a bar of soap in it right now. As it were, no bubbles were escaping out my mouth yet.
                “ok, here goes nothing! It’s howdy duty time!” I climbed up the leg of their table, quick like.  Thank God Pamela decided to sit at the end.  Going across the table, unseen would have been tricky if not insanely dangerous. I felt exhilarated knowing that finally I’d have my payback.
                Pamela had no idea that I had crawled onto her tray.  I hadn’t thought about what repercussions would take place once she spotted me−I soon found out.  It wasn’t even five minutes that she looked down to grab her sandwich when−
                “A mouse!”
                Her scream filled the room and echoed out into the hall.  As for me, the tray I was on went sailing across the room. Now, I didn’t vision that happening, poor planning on my part, but I did feel justified.
                I clung tight to the sandwich, or so I thought I was, until I soon discovered that it wasn’t a sandwich but a small piece of bread and it was heading for the wall. Oh crap, I tried my best to get under it, but I was too late. Smack!
                I felt as if−I don’t know how I felt, I only knew that I hurt in many places and I was going to be sore for a longtime. I moaned.
                “Kill that mouse!”  Someone yelled in the distance. 
                Good lord, I’m a goner!  I had to hightail it out of there, but the room wouldn’t stop spinning! I’ve−got−to−move−or−else! I told myself, but my legs, not to mention the room, weren’t letting me do so.  I focused, or least tried.  The door was three feet away, being a mouse it seemed like a hundred miles, but it was either stay and die or move and live.  I chose the latter. 
                I looked like a deranged mouse on drugs, going everywhere but straight. God just get me out please! I begged. Girls were screaming and I felt like I was in a war where food was the ammo. Pizza, sandwiches, trays− deadly as all get out, so were the apples, flew passed me. It was a regular smorgasbord  war going on and I was leading the way. 
                I still had some distance between me and the door and when panic took hold of my tiny body. I didn’t know how I did it, but I propelled myself into high gear and out the door I went.  Headed now toward my sanctuary, the bathroom, I had a hard time of slipping under the door.  My body, badly bruised, let me know exactly where each hurt was. Excruciating.
                “It went into the bathroom, go kill it!”
                Kill it, is that what I heard? Shit.  They wouldn’t, would they? I questioned myself.  Yeah they would, I’m a mouse. I had to shift-shape back or else, but time was not on my side, so I ran to the last stall and hunkered down behind the toilet. Yuck. The thought of germs and disease ran through my mind as I waited out my fate. Then another thought surfaced, I just realized how rough mice had it. It’s not a life I’d wish on my worst enemy−well, maybe on Pamela Turner.
                Feet, two to be exact  came tromping in. I wasn’t sure who they belonged too and then, if memory served me well, I knew who those shoes belonged too, Tommy Bookman.  What is Tommy doing in the girl’s bathroom? I thought.  I stuck my head out a bit more, but it was hard to see anything being this small, so I got out from my hidey hole and as painful as it was I shifted back to being human.  Now, I have to tell you, shifting can be hard not only on your body, but on your clothes as well.  So, it’s always best to wear something baggy, today I was not.  My jeans had rips in them, but that was the style, so yay for me, my shirt on the other hand did not weather as well. Crap.
                Wham!
                The door to my stall slammed open and there stood Tommy.  Now Tommy was a jock, quarterback of our school football team, tall, blonde hair and blue eyes.  He’s what you would call, eye candy. Girls drooled over him like he was the only male left on earth, even I was struck with such a fever, but right now I wasn’t gazing at him like I wanted him.  It was more on the level of, what are you doing here? He gave me his self-absorbed I’m important look, but I could tell past that tough exterior, he was just as surprised as I was.  Time for action, so I screamed loud, Tommy looked as if he was going to pee his pants.
                “Tommy Bookman you get the hell out of the girl’s bathroom right now! What do you mean coming in here?  Are you trying to get your jollies?  Well, are you?”  This I believe was the first time that I saw Tommy clam up. I let him have it and good too! All the while my mouth was jabbering, I was walking right toward him and he, walking like someone had pulled a wedgie on him was going backwards.  His mouth kept opening, trying to say anything in his defense, but I wouldn’t let him, not until the Principal came over and interjected.
                “What’s going on here?”  In a clear and authoritative voice, that’s when Tommy spoke up.
                “I-I don’t know! I was just walking, minding my own business when she started in on me! She’s nuts I tell you!” His beady eyes caught mine and without the Principals knowledge, gave me a smirk.
                He flat out lied!  I wasn’t going to take the blame on this one.  This was the straw that broke the camels back in my book. My hands clenched into two tight fists, just itching to punch his lights out when opportunity would come a knocking.
                “I have a name! It’s Ruth Lockner and you walked in on me!” I looked at Mr. Crenshaw to see if he believed me or not, and it seemed that he did, but I had to make sure that I would win this case.
                “I believe you came in for a free show and your groupies, Pamela Turner and friends, put you up to it!  I’m tired of your pranks−all of you!” I pointed to the lot of them and they stood there as if I had sprouted wings and jeered.
                “Whoa, slow down Miss Lockner, are you sure he was in the bathroom and that…”
                Was I sure?  What load of crap was that,  I didn’t let him continue, I was fit to be tied right then.
                “Are you serious? Why would I or anyone for that matter walk out of a bathroom and start yelling at the first person they see? Does that make any sense to you? No! So to answer your question, yes, he was in here and yes, I backed him out yelling. So are you going to do something about it or not?” I know I had overstepped my boundaries, but I didn’t care anymore, it was high time the school backed victims, like me, up.  If my glare were daggers, Tommy would probably have about fifty stuck in him right now.
                “I think this was all just a misunderstanding. Tommy is our most upstanding student here at Wayfield High. I seriously doubt he’d do anything to damage that.  So, let’s just let bygones be bygones and make up shall we?”
                I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  This was no accident, he, on his own admission walked in. My blood boiled just beneath the surface and I felt betrayed. . . again.
                “So, Tommy what do you say to Miss Lockner?”
                He took a deep breath, as if saying the words would bring death upon him and smiled.
                “I’m sorry, it’ll never happen again.” And held out his hand for me to shake. 
                “Bite me.”
                I wasn’t having any of this and held fast to my conviction, this would not go unheeded.  I would get my revenge.  I turned on my heels and walked away. Whispers with laughter echoed behind me as I kept my focus on the front door just down the hall.