The Stone of Atlantis (Excerpt)

This is my book. It’s a excerpt from it, and hopefully whoever likes it will buy the actual book if it’s ever released. Hopefully. Here you go…

My Principal has an Unexpected Meeting

There’s no better way to say it. Dragons are real. Sometimes people just need the hard truth, like how mythical creatures from medieval times are actually real. How do I know? I happen to live with them, and that’s the least of it.

Before you go on to read my thrilling tales of adventure, victory, terror, etc, etc, you must be warned. If you get a feeling of Déjà Vu while reading, I suggest you throw down the book, maybe even stomp on it a few times, then go find your nymph. She’ll be there in your school, most likely the school principal. If you don’t find her.. Pray that they don’t find you. My name is Quinn Marks. This is how a WEASEL turned my life upside-down.

It started at the end of the school year. Since the end-of-the-year exams were done, the teachers had found something they had lost since the beginning of the school year- relaxation. While they were playing solitaire on their computers, the students were listening to music on their phones, talking and laughing, just being kids. Our teacher at the moment, Mrs. Parkam, was doing what we call an “experiment”. She used to be a scientist before she retired. She’s still curious about the unknown, so she studies the reactions of children for certain things. Today, she wanted to see how children acted unsupervised. Which, of course, was a mistake.

She had moved us into groups with a single computer and book. Parkam put opposites in the groups: someone who never talked in class, someone who never failed a test; someone who always seemed to fail the test and someone who couldn’t keep their mouth shut. I was the one who failed her tests. I mean, I make good enough grades to pass, but my average never bypasses a C. That’s what happens when you’re really ADHD.

The smart one was Stephanie Wenston. Wavy auburn hair, glasses over green eyes, and a soft, kind smile. She’s sweet, isn’t a know-it-all, and always has her nose in a book.

The quiet one was Asher Raighns. Platinum hair, farmers tan, and very, very tall. Even though I’m superiorly awesome, I’m really short. I’m four-foot-seven and(hopefully) growing. Asher is also what I would describe as a “Whatchamacallit”. On some rare occasions, there are kids who are popular, but don’t want to be popular. Asher is one of these kids. Everytime he gets swarmed by people (who want access to his Mom’s wallet,) he gets flustered. When I was younger, I would watch it and get angry. Now I start fights over it.

The talkative one is Lindsey Holmer. She’s one of those prissy blond types with the big baby-blue eyes, hair extensions, manicures, fake eyelashes, expensive designer clothes and shoes. And she hates me. She was someone who I started a fight with, and she never got over it.

I was in a group with these three people, and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Literally. Stephanie, however, seemed oblivious to it. She picked up the book and started reading. Lindsey was scrolling on the computer, and then she shut it abruptly.

“So.” Lindsey sighed and tapped her long, fake nails against the desk. “This is boring.”

“No, it’s extremely interesting. Do you not see the circus?” I quipped, rolling my eyes.

Asher snorted. “Here we go..” He mumbled.

“Asher, where are you going on vacation this year?” Lindsey tore her glaring eyes off of me and to Asher.

“Um.” Asher looked down. He clenched his hands together. “I don’t really go on vacations.”

“Really?” Lindsey seemed amused. “With all the money your mother has?”

“Lay off.” I say tersly. I didn’t mean to say it loud, but everyone in the room turned to look at me. Even Stephanie looked up from her book.

Lindsey clears her throat. “Got something to say to me, kindergartener?” She says, her voice shaking.

Anger swells in my chest. I know I’m small, but I don’t like it when people point it out. “Not really.” I say coodly. “I don’t even know why I bother saying this to you, since you’re too dumb to understand, but no one really wants your infection of idiocy.”

“Oh, really? I make more than those measly C-minuses.”

I roll my eyes at that. “Like I care about my grades. They’re passing. You need to take off that wig you call hair, though, it’s infecting your brain.”

“So now we’re talking about looks, hm? It looks like you need a wig yourself. Those curls? Not even funny.”

“At least I’m not as blind as a bat. You can’t even find your way home to the dump.” I snap.

Lindsey sighs and looks at me with pity. “Poor thing. So upset that she doesn’t have anyone, she takes it all out on innocent bystanders.”

“Lindsey, she’s standing up for someone. That’s not a crime.” Stephanie says without looking up from her book.

“Shut up, bibliophile! Maybe if you looked at the real world instead of your little fantasy land, you’d be more popular!”

And that’s when I snap.

My first punch hits her in the nose, with a spurt of blood that sprays on my sleeve. I dodge what looks like a flailing slap and hit her in the jaw, hoping it leaves a bruise. Our classmates stared wide-eyed at the action. Normally, kids would be surrounding us, yelling, “FIGHT!” at the top of their lungs. However, the kids at Houston Institute are very, very lowkey.

Lindsey nails me underneath the eye. Great, a black eye I’ll have to explain, I think. I leave myself unguarded and Lindsey dances out of my reach, but I find her again when she yanks my hair back. I whip myself around and slap her across the face.

“ENOUGH!” Someone shouts. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Parkam, the woman of the hour, who was probably never going to hear the end of this.

Parkam is a elderly woman. She’s so senile, I can’t even predict her age. Her skin is saggier and wrinklier than a rotten vegetable. She wore a crisp white trench coat(or lab coat, whichever you prefer) and a plum-colored turtleneck. She had a dark purple skirt that ended at her ankles. She wore black slip-ons and bright red lipstick, and her silver hair was in a tight bun.

She looks like a mix of Professor McGonagall from Harry Potter, the color purple, and a desperate attempt for youth with lipstick. At the end of her classes, I’m surprised she didn’t say wingardium leviosa.

“Why,” Parkam began, seething, “are you two fighting?”

Lindsey immediately pointed her finger at me. “She started it!”

“Typical.” I roll my eyes. “She started it. She started messing with them.” I nod my head towards the group, where Stephanie and Asher were sitting, with smiles on their faces. “She made Asher uncomfortable, and-”

“I wasn’t bothering Stephanie all that much! She was too busy being a bookworm-”

“And she admits it!” I exclaim.

“Enough, enough.” Parkam sighs and bites on her finger. “Obviously, this did not go well. BUT, you four need to go to the principal’s office anyway.”

“WHAT?!” Lindsey screamed. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Last I checked, you got in a fight. That can get you suspended. However, this visit is unrelated.” Parkam said calmly. She walked to her desk and sat in her office chair. “Oh, and Lindsey? You and Quinn should visit the restroom before you visit the office. I do not wish to be blamed for a fight.”

“That can get you fired!” I say, backing out the door. “But I think it would be an improvement!”

The classroom bursts into snickers and sneers. With a smirk on my face, I exit the classroom. Lindsey passes me in a rush, grumbling to herself. Stephanie follows closely behind, clutching her books. I take my time, smiling as Lindsey turns sharply into the bathroom.

“Hello,” Asher says behind me. Scaring me to death.

“Wha-” I turn around too fast and stumble. Not that surprising, I’m way too clumsy on my feet. I managed to regain my balance and not fall on my butt like a fool. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Ah, so she doesn’t have nerves of steel.” Asher grins.

“I’m not superwoman.” I sigh.

“Thanks, though.” He smiles

He meant that, and the realization made my cheeks warm a little. I don’t like to be complimented, so I had to change the subject. Now. “How does it look? The bruise?” I grazed the black eye Lindsey managed to give me with the tips of my fingers. It’s tender, and even just the slightest touch causes it to sting.

Asher shrugs. “Not bad. It goes well with your eyes.” He grins mischievously.

“Very funny.” I sigh. I wipe my palms on my jeans and keep on walking.

The checkerboard-style tiles glint from the lights built into the ceiling. It’s a simple school. Houston Institute was a big name for an ordinary school. The walls were made up of painted cement blocks and bricks. The hallways had bulletin boards with positive messages on them. And, not only is this school ordinary, it’s in Houston. It’s a pretty big city. Talk about lying low…

That’s when things took a turn. The ground began to rumble, like something very heavy was stomping it’s feet. Dust rained from the ceiling in thick clouds.

“Earthquake..?” Asher mumbled under his breath.

“No,” I say, with fear digging it’s wry claws into my hammering heart, “It’s not an earthquake. I think the ground would be spliting if that was the case.”

“What is it?” Asher’s eyes are stern but wide, their color thunderstorm gray. Unnerving.

“We’ll have to find out.” I say shakily. What could be heavy enough to shake the whole school?

I began to run to the principal’s office. Whatever it was, it was in there. The roars started when I got within ten feet of the office door. It sounded like a lions’ roar- bellowing, angry, and very, very intimidating.

“You’re fast for someone your size,” Asher wheezed after he finally caught up with me.

“I know.” I fight off the urge to smile. “Whatever’s shaking the school is in there.”

“I thought so.” Asher frowned. “I really don’t want to open that door.”

“Me neither,” I admit, “But sometimes we just got to do it.”

And that’s only PART of chapter one. I hope you liked it! Give me feedback in the comments.