So are we all in agreement that Jack set the fire that burned Spencer’s house down? That was implied, right? On the list of awful things that Jack’s done?

Are You Watching Closely?  2: Sleight of Hand

Jack Wilder x Reader (Dylan’s Niece)

Part: One

Words: 1511

Summary: After introducing you to the rest of the Horseman, Dylan leaves you with them so you can get to know each other and hopefully to relieve the new tension. Despite being the newcomer, you quickly become friends with the youngest- and definitely most handsome- Horseman; Jack Wilder.

Note: I am so glad so many of you have liked this story! I love writing the family aspect with Dylan and the new budding relationship with Jack. Plus this gives me an excuse to keep rewatching the movies! (I also wanted to give Jack a bit of a backstory, so I took some creative liberty and made one up. Hope you like it)

The three men stared at you in shock. You shifted uncomfortably. This was such a bad idea. Dylan clapped his hands together to draw their attention back to him.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we have a new opportunity coming up.”

“Are you serious man?” Jack exclaimed. “After Henley left you said I could get back on stage again. Not someone who just showed up.” You tried not to take any offense to his words. Mainly because he was right; it wasn’t fair that he has to stay behind while you rose to the top with the other boys.

“I told you I’d think about it, and I have,” Dylan stated. “And I really need you behind the scenes a little longer.”

“Dylan, come on. I’ve been behind the scenes my whole life.” Jack sighed and you felt another pang of guilt. You shot Dylan a dark look and he narrowed his eyes.

“Well,” Dylan rubbed his eyes. “I am going to let you all mingle and get to know each other while I get all of the plans for your next performance gathered and sorted, okay?” Your eyes widened.

“You’re just leaving me here?” You hissed.

“Don’t worry sweetheart.” Merritt chuckled. “We won’t bite.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Well, he might.”

“I will see you all later.” Dylan aimed the statement at you, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Danny glared at you with suspicion. You shied away from him, trying not to aggravate him more than you already had. Dylan left without another word and you felt the burning stares from the three men around you. You smiled awkwardly.

“Hi.”

The apartment was nice for a person running from the law. The boys had drawn straws to determine who you would be staying with, which you had to admit hurt. It was like being the one nobody wanted on their team in high school. Part of you regretted not taking Dylan up on his offer to find you your own place. You had said you should get to know the guys if you were going to be stuck with them. Now you wanted nothing more than to disappear in the biggest bubble bath ever. Jack threw himself onto his couch and you stood in the doorway.

“You can come in.” He said, his tone annoyed and tired. You rolled your suitcase behind you, sitting down in a large leather chair. You blew out a long breath, looking everywhere but him. Of course you had to be staying with the- well your nickname for him was the Hot Horseman.

“Look,” You sighed, “I don’t want me to be here either, and I get why you guys don’t like me. But I’m just as stuck as you are, okay?” You slammed your mouth shut. You hadn’t actually meant to say all of that, it just sort of came out. Jack’s expression softened.

“Danny can really be a dick, huh?” He sat up, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I guess I didn’t give the most gracious of welcomes either.”

“I just…” You struggled for something to say. “I just feel awful. I mean, here you are, this super talented guy and Dylan won’t let you back on. Instead, he’s brought me in, a nobody from New Jersey who is mediocre at best.”

“Hey,” He began, inching slightly closer to you. “If Dylan thinks you’re good, then you’re good. Never doubt your own abilities.” He thought for a minute and stood. “Well, Miss Y/N, newly initiated member of the Horseman,” He held out his hand. “Follow me.”

He lead you down a hallway and out of the window leading out to the fire escape. The sky was clear, with stars just starting to appear in the sea of greyish-blue. You gazed up at them, remembering how you and your mom would lie up on the roof of your tiny house and snack on chips and ice cream all night, just looking up at the stars. That was before she got sick.

“Whenever I need to think, I always come out here.” Jack pulled his hood over his head in case anyone happened to look up at the two of you. “Reminds me of the little freedom I have left.” He pointed up at the group of stars. “You see that one? My dad used to teach me the constellations. He would tell me all of their stories and make me feel like I was a part of them.”

“My mom always told me that the stars were where all of the magic came from.” You laughed lightly. “She was a magician too. Before she…” Your voice trailed off.

“I'm sorry.” Jack looked at you sincerely. “My parents died when I was 16. Car accident.” You stood there, staring at each other under the stars for what felt like hours. Your fear of being a Horseman slowly started to dwindle. Instinctively, he pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and flipped them over one another. His hands moved quickly and expertly, crisscrossing cards, flinging them up in the air and snatching them back again. It was hypnotizing.

“Do you work with cards?” He wondered, halting his movements, offering the deck to you. You shrugged.

“I used to. My uncle would teach me all kinds of tricks. He would always tell me; ‘The closer you look’-”

“The less you see.” Jack smirked. “So he’s a magician too?” You chuckled.

“He prefers the term; specialist.” As if on cue, your phone started to buzz in your pocket. Dylan’s picture flashed on the screen. You sighed. “I have to take this.” You slid your thumb across the screen and climbed back into the apartment, leaving Jack still gazing up at the sky.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask how it’s going with the guys.” Dylan held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked the door to his own apartment. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s fine. I’m staying with Jack and he’s actually pretty nice.” You felt your gaze rise up to the boy outside, blush rushing to your cheeks as he turned back and grinned at you.

“Wait, you’re Jack? Only Jack?”

“Yeah… why?”

“I thought that all of you would stay in the same place, you know, not with just one.” He tried to keep his protective-side voice from coming up, but he couldn’t help it. He had been fighting off boys since you were in middle school and now you were in an apartment alone with Jack Wilder.

“Do you honestly think these guys could survive living together?” You scoffed. He was doing the protective thing again like he always had when you were in high school. It drove you crazy. “Besides, what’s wrong with him?”

“Jack’s a nice kid but…” Dylan trailed off. He didn’t know much about Jack, but he knew a playboy when he saw one. He was afraid that you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

“Look, I have dealt with plenty of guys, okay? Your concern is sweet, but I can handle myself.” You told him goodnight and promised to see him in the morning before hanging up so he couldn’t refute. Jack smirked as you rejoined him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He snickered. “It’s just that you get this line between your eyebrows when you get frustrated.” He traced his finger over your forehead and you stepped away.

“It's getting late, maybe we should call it a night.”  You noticed his face fall for a second, but his grin bounced right back as he held up a card. The Jack of Hearts.

“You sure you don't want to brush up on your cardistry.” He winked and you felt your heart flutter. You tried to seem nonchalant as you took your favorite card from his hand flipped it between your fingers. You tossed it your other hand and grinned.

“I don't see why not.” You pressed your lips to the card, living a dark red mark from your lipstick. You climbed back through the window and Jack followed. As you reached the living room, you flung the card towards him, earning a nod of approval and a hint of an impressed smile. He flipped the card over his head and caught it behind his back with the other hand, shooting it back to you.

“You’re not too bad.” He commented, picking up a small remote and turning on his speakers. You let out a laugh as Frank Sinatra’s Witchcraft filled the room. It was one of your favorites.

“Nice to find another Frankie fan.” You did one final trick before making the card disappear. You strut back across the room towards him. “Now it’s time to call it a night, don’t you think?” You gave his chest a pat before walking off to grab your suitcase. Jack pulled the Jack of Hearts out of his jacket pocket, singing a line out with Sinatra.

“There’s no nicer witch than you!” He belted, vanishing off into his own bedroom.

Oops, almost forgot: @jared-padaloveme

It’s kind of sad, I have four fictional crushes (fictional baes, if you will) and I can remember the exact moment I fell for all but one. 

The first one was Marty Mcfly from the Back to the Future films who I’ve thought was cute since I was, like, three, okay? So clearly I don’t remember the exact moment my brain went “I like you” but my earliest BTTF memory is being a little kid and sitting on the living room floor in my grandparent’s house down at the Jersey Shore and watching BTTF3, which I think my grandpop probably liked best of all because he adored trains and, well, I mean, self explanatory. 

The next was Peter Pevensie from The Chronicles of Narnia and I have very vivid recollections of when I first fell for him, and when my parents found out about it. I was in third grade when LWW came out and had read the book earlier that year in class, along with watching the BBC version afterward. All I remembe from the BBC version was the scene where Peter slays Maugrim and is knighted, and the credits which my teacher switched the TV off in the middle of to announce that Disney was releasing their own version that December. So, of course my mom and I go and we’re having a good time, whatever, until we get to the battle scene. I was terrified and dragged my mom out of the theater. Now, I was under the impression that we went back another day to see it again but my mom says we only stepped out of the theater for a few minutes before going back in. Either way, I ended up in the theater again at some point afterward to face the battle scene again. I was still terrified, covering my eyes for most of it, but at one point, I peeked up through my fingers and there I saw none other than William freaking Moseley being an absolute badass slashing enemies and being overall very attractive. And I pretty much became the real-life rendition of this gif: 

I think I only kept this crush hidden for, like, a week. I remember not long afterward, maybe it was Christmas Eve or Christmas Day or something, my parents and I were at the Beach Club Resort in Disney and the cast members had free copies of that Disney Adventures mini-magazine. Lo and behold, Narnia was on the cover and inside was an interview with William Moseley. It was evident to my parents that I had a crush on this guy when I started taking that mini-magazine everywhere with me like some sort of security blanket and was so obsessed with it that the cover fell off and I had to get another one. 

The next crush was Jack Frost who I stumbled upon completely by accident. This was when Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons was reaching a fever pitch. In the beginning, I only knew Rapunzel and was very confused when I saw her paired with these three other characters obsessively. Okay, so obviously I knew Merida but I hadn’t seen Brave yet but Hiccup and Jack, I knew nothing about. So I did what any normal person would probably do and researched. I found a low-quality Youtube video someone took in the movie theater of the scene where Jack’s backstory is revealed and something in me just clicked. And that was the beginning of that descent. 

And now we get to my most recent acquisition: Kakashi Hatake. I never grew up on Naruto like so many other people so this is a new one for me. I’ve had friends who have been into it in the past, or are still into it, but I never bothered much until my boyfriend said he wanted us to watch it together. I got hooked hard and fast but not so much on Kakashi as I did the show. Kakashi was probably the slowest burn out of all of them. I thought his character was interesting right off the bat but I didn’t fall for him until this scene came along. Okay, so it was also the scene right beforehand when Sakura is left alone on the hospital rooftop and Kakashi swoops down and tells her everything will be alright, try not to worry about it, keep smiling and he’ll see her soon, all that good stuff. Listen, apparently I just have a thing for sweet, protective, reassuring dorks with flippy white hair and tragic backstories, alright? But anyways, I guess scenes of reassurance and shit just get me all warm and fuzzy inside or some shit, but like it was that episode when I was like “Okay, Kakashi, now you definitely have my attention.” He was more than just their teacher to me at that point, he was a character I wanted to get to know more and a character I admired who really struck something in me. Aaannnnddd now I’m absolute Kakashi fangirl trash. I mean, based on past patterns, I guess we should’ve seen this coming.  

A thief. An officer. A guardian. Three strangers, one shared destiny . . . When the Last Days came, the planet of Laterre promised hope. A new life for a wealthy French family and their descendants. But five hundred years later, it’s now a place where an extravagant elite class reigns supreme; where the clouds hide the stars and the poor starve in the streets; where a rebel group, long thought dead, is resurfacing. Whispers of revolution have begun—a revolution that hinges on three unlikely heroes… Chatine is a street-savvy thief who will do anything to escape the brutal Regime, including spy on Marcellus, the grandson of the most powerful man on the planet. Marcellus is an officer—and the son of a renowned traitor. In training to take command of the military, Marcellus begins to doubt the government he’s vowed to serve when his father dies and leaves behind a cryptic message that only one person can read: a girl named Alouette. Alouette is living in an underground refuge, where she guards and protects the last surviving library on the planet. But a shocking murder will bring Alouette to the surface for the first time in twelve years…and plunge Laterre into chaos. All three have a role to play in a dangerous game of revolution—and together they will shape the future of a planet. Power, romance, and destiny collide in this sweeping reimagining of Victor Hugo’s masterpiece, Les Misérables. Sky Without Stars (System Divine #1) by Jessica Brody & Joanne Rendell Publisher: Simon Pulse Release Date: March 26th 2019 Genre: Retellings, Young Adult, Science Fiction Review: Sky Without Stars by Jessica Brody and Joanne Rendell is fantastic. I am loving this book. If the cover doesn't grab you right away then the story will draw you in. As the reader you are introduced to three characters, Chatine, Marcellus, and Alouette. These three people couldn't be more different but they will all touch each others lives in a different way. Chatine is a thief. Chatine has lived a hard life. She is considered to be part of the lowest part of society, the third estate. No one cares about her or others like her. Obviously she doesn't have the best outlook on life.  Marcellus is the son of a renowned traitor. Marcellus wants to be the best solider that he can be but he just isn't cut out for it. He is so used to being alone that he really just wants to be loved by anyone. Alouette has a secret. She has lived underground her entire life. She grew up helping the sisters record history. Now she lives in a time that people don't remember the written word. Alouette wants nothing more than to go outside but once she is outside she discovers secrets about her past that she wasn't ready for.  I really enjoy these characters. Just as importantly, I enjoyed the world building. Brody and Rendell brought us a beautiful world that is so vivid. Even the drabby parts were described so beautifully. I really enjoyed this book. One thing I really appreciate is this book makes me feel like I am there and that I am part of the story. I have read Les Miserables and I have to say that this is a great retelling of Les Miserables but I feel like a lot of backstory is left out compared to the book it is based on. I think someone who has not read Les Miserables  won't have any issues with this story and they will probably breeze straight through it. Someone who has read it, will definitely notice the differences and the backstory that is missing. You should definitely check out this book. I really like it and I think it is worth your time to read. Plus there are so many good and fun things coming out about this book. Check it out because I don't think you will regret it. Favorite Quotes: High on a hill, the family built their Grand Palais under a vast climate-controlled dome. And in the flatlands below lived their chosen people.  Since the day she was born into this Regime, she was fated to die young. She would never see the stars. She would never feel the warmth of real Sol-light on her face. She would never escape. He had to prove to himself, once and for all, that he was not his father’s son. He was a loyal grandson and a proud member of the Second Estate. She was so sick of it. The secrets. The mysteries. The torn-out pages. The hidden boxes. She needed answers. And she needed them now.  The Map: Excerpt: Chapter One Chatine The rain was falling sideways in the Marsh. It was never a straight downpour. It was always crooked. Just like the people here. Con artists and hustlers and crocs, the lot of them. Anyone can be a saint until they’re hungry enough. Chatine Renard was perched high above it all, watching the stream of people churn through the busy marketplace like clotted blood through a vein. She was straddling an exposed metal beam that once connected the old freightship to its roof. At least, that’s what Chatine had been told—that the Frets were once titanic flying vessels that soared across the galaxy, bringing her ancestors to the planet of Laterre, the coldest and wettest of the twelve planets in the System Divine. But years of neglect and crooked rain had corroded the PermaSteel walls and ceilings, turning the staterooms in the passenger freightships into leaky, mold-ridden housing for the poor, and this cargo freightship into an open-air marketplace. Chatine pulled her hood farther down her forehead in an attempt to block her face. Much to her dismay, she’d noticed over the past few years that her eyelashes had grown longer, her chest had filled out, her cheekbones had become more pronounced, and her nose had slimmed to a dainty point, which she despised. She had streaked her face with mud before coming to the Marsh today, but every time she caught sight of her reflection in a puddle or the metal of a partially collapsed wall, she cringed at how much she still looked like a girl. So inconvenient. The Marsh was far more crowded today than usual. Chatine leaned forward and balanced on her stomach, hugging the beam to her chest as she scanned the countless faces that passed beneath her. They were always the same faces. Poor, downtrodden souls like her trying to find creative ways to stretch their weekly wages. Or con their neighbor out of a larg or two. Newcomers were rare to the Marsh. No one outside of the Third Estate bothered with the picked-over cabbages and mangy turnips for sale. With the exception of Inspecteur Limier and his army of Policier droids tasked with keeping the peace, the Frets and the marketplace in its center were normally avoided at all costs by anyone who didn’t live here. Which was why the man in the long coat immediately caught Chatine’s eye. His wealth was written all over his groomed black beard, matching hair, pressed clothes, and sparkling adornments. Second Estate, to be sure. She’d never known the First Estate to ever venture out of Ledôme. The climate-controlled biodome sat high on the hill just outside the capital city of Vallonay, shielding the First Estate from Laterre’s persistent downpours. And the slums below. Chatine’s eyes raked over the man, taking in every stitch and every button. Her gaze expertly landed on the gold medallion dangling like bait from his neck. She didn’t have to see it up close to know it was a relic from the Last Days, rescued from the burning embers of a dying planet. The Second Estate loved their First World relics. Five hundred largs easy, Chatine calculated in her head. Enough money to feed an entire Third Estate family for weeks. But it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the crocs in the Marsh spotted the treasure too and made their play. Which meant Chatine had to move fast. Gripping the beam with both hands, she swung her legs over the side and launched her body to the nearby catwalk, landing silently in a crouch. Directly underneath her, the man continued farther into the marketplace, weaving around the loose chickens that roamed the stalls searching for scraps. His gaze swept left and right as though taking mental inventory of the space. For a moment, Chatine wondered what he was doing here. Had he gotten lost on his way back up to Ledôme? Or was he here on some kind of business? But then she remembered the annual Ascension happening later today and reasoned he was probably a foreman of a fabrique, come to round up his workers who were skipping out on their shifts to get jacked up on weed wine, all the while hoping to win a new life. “Win a new life?” Chatine muttered to herself and let out a bitter laugh. Deluded fools, all of them. She crept across the grid of overhead walkways and ramps, skillfully ducking to avoid broken water pipes and leaping over giant chasms in the grated floor. All the while, she kept a close watch on the man, making sure she was never more than a few steps behind him. He finally slowed near Madame Dufour’s stall, pulled an apricot from his pocket, and took a large bite, the juice dripping into his beard. Chatine’s mouth started to water. She’d only ever tasted an apricot once, when a crate had fallen off the back of a cargo transporteur delivering fruit from the hothouses to Ledôme. Chatine watched Madame Dufour size the man up with sinister fascination. The old croc was practically licking her lips at the sight of such an easy mark. It was now or never. Ducking under the broken railing, Chatine grabbed onto the raised rim of the walkway floor and somersaulted over the edge. She whipped her body forward, fell three mètres down, and adeptly caught the beam below her. She circled around until it rested against her hips and she could balance there. She was now only a mètre above the man’s head. Yet with the buzz of the busy marketplace, no one even bothered to look up. “What a pitiful sight,” the man said, taking another bite of his apricot. He didn’t even bother to hide his disgust. The Second Estate rarely did. It was something about being stuck in the middle, Chatine had always noticed—not quite rulers and yet far from being one of the wretched like her—that gave the Second Estate their shameless sense of arrogance. They were almost more intolerable than the First Estate. Almost. Chatine’s gaze cut to the left, taking in the tower of empty crates stacked up next to Madame Dufour’s stall. She shimmied along the beam until she was directly above them. Then, she tipped forward, rotated around, and kicked both feet out in front of her. The crash was louder than she anticipated. The crates toppled to the ground, avalanching around the man as he fell to his knees with a grunt. Chatine moved quickly. Landing in a squat, she crawled through the wreckage until she found the man and graciously helped him back onto his feet. He was so busy brushing dust and cabbage leaves from his coat, he didn’t even feel the medallion being lifted from his neck. “Are you all right, Monsieur?” Chatine asked in her friendliest tone, slipping the pendant into her pocket. The man barely looked at her as he straightened his hat. “Quite all right, boy.” “You must be careful in the Marsh, Monsieur. It isn’t safe for someone of your rank.” “Merci,” he said dismissively as he tossed the apricot he’d been eating toward Chatine. She caught it and flashed him an appreciative smile. “Vive Laterre.” “Vive Laterre,” he echoed before turning away. Chatine grinned at the man’s back as she turned on her heels and slipped the half-eaten apricot into her pocket. It took all her strength not to consume the entire thing here and now. She knew the man would hardly even miss that gold medallion from his neck. He probably had ten just like it back in his manoir in Ledôme. But to her, it was everything. It would change everything. The wind picked up, howling through the stalls and biting viciously at Chatine’s skin. She pulled her tattered black coat tighter around her, trying in vain to stave off the chill. But the holes and ripped lining of her clothes weren’t the problem. It was the hunger—the ribs poking through her skin. There wasn’t a single shred of insulation left on her body. But after that score, she was finding it hard to care. As Chatine headed toward the south exit of the Marsh, weaving through stalls selling moldy potatoes, slimy leeks, and pungent seaweed dragged in from the nearby docks, there was a new lightness to her gait. A new hopefulness in her step. But just before passing through what used to be the old cargo ship’s loading bay, Chatine felt a large hand clamp down on her shoulder and she stopped dead in her tracks, a shiver running through her. “So nice of you to help out a member of the Second Estate,” a cold, robotic voice said. “I’ve never seen such chivalry from a Renard.” The emphasis he placed on her last name made Chatine squirm. She closed her eyes, mustering strength, and painted on a blithe smile. She slowly turned around. “Inspecteur Limier,” she said. “Always a pleasure.” His stony expression didn’t change. It hardly ever did. The circuitry implants on the left side of his face made it nearly impossible for the inspecteur to express any emotion. Chatine often wondered if the man was even capable of smiling. “I wish I could say the same for you, Théo.” His tone was flat. Only her parents called her Chatine. Everyone in the Frets knew her as Théo. It was the name she’d given herself ten years ago, when they’d first moved to the capital city of Vallonay and Chatine had decided that life as a boy would be much less complicated than life as a girl. Chatine clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Inspecteur.” “What did you take from the kind monsieur?” Limier asked, his half-human, half-robot voice clicking on the hard consonants. Chatine refreshed her smile. “Whatever do you mean, Inspecteur? I know better than to steal from the hand that feeds me.” She nearly gagged on the words. But if they saved her from a one-way ticket to Bastille—the price you paid for stealing from an upper estate—then she could choke her way through them. Chatine held her breath as the inspecteur’s circuitry flickered on his face. He was computing the information, analyzing her words, searching for hints of perjury. Over the past ten years of living in the Frets, Chatine had learned how to lie. But lying to a human being was one thing. Lying to a cyborg inspecteur, programmed to seek the truth, was quite another. She waited, keeping her smile taut until the circuits stopped flashing. “Will that be all, Inspecteur?” Chatine asked, smiling sweetly while pressing her hands against her tattered black pants. Her palms were starting to sweat, and she didn’t want his heat sensors to pick up on it. Then, slowly, Chatine watched the inspecteur’s gloved hand extend toward her. With a soft touch that chilled her to the bone, he pushed up her black hood to reveal more of her face. His electric orange eye blinked to life, scanning her features. It seemed to linger a beat too long on her high, feminine cheekbones. Panic bloomed in her chest. Can it see who I really am? Chatine hastily took a step back, out of the inspecteur’s reach, and yanked her hood back down. “My maman is expecting me home,” she said. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.” “Of course,” the inspecteur replied. “Thank you, Inspecteur. Vive Laterre.” As Chatine turned to leave, she felt her entire body collapse with relief. She had done it. She had fooled his sensors. She was a better liar than even she had come to believe. “I’ll just need to check your pockets first.” Chatine froze. She quickly surveyed her surroundings. She spotted five Policier droids in her vicinity. More than usually roamed the Marsh, due to the annual Ascension ceremony today. The droids—or bashers as they were referred to around here—stood at almost twice the size of an average man and their slate-gray exoskeletons crunched and whirred as they walked. Chatine wasn’t afraid of them, though. She’d escaped Policier droids plenty of times. They were fast and stronger than ten men, but they still had their limitations. For instance, they couldn’t climb. Careful not to move her head, Chatine glanced up, thanking her lucky Sols that there was an old pipe running directly over her head. She refused to get flown off to Bastille. A neighbor was currently serving three years for stealing a measly sac of turnips. A First World relic lifted off a Second Estater? She’d be looking at ten years minimum. And hardly anyone lived that long on the moon. She slowly spun back around to face Limier. “Of course, Inspecteur. I have nothing to hide.” Flashing another smile, Chatine stuffed her hand into her pocket and felt the medallion cool and smooth against her skin. The inspecteur once again reached a hand in her direction. Then, before he could react, Chatine hurled the apricot the monsieur had given her straight at the inspecteur’s face. His circuitry sparked as his brain tried to make sense of the incoming object. Chatine bolted, scrambling onto a table full of fabric scraps before leaping toward the pipe. For a second, she was flying, soaring above the inspecteur, the shoppers in the Marsh, and the Policier droids who were just starting to take notice of the disturbance. As she caught the pipe, she used her momentum to circle her legs around until she was straddling the rusty, metal pole. “Paralyze him!” Inspecteur Limier shouted to his droids, peering up at Chatine. His circuitry was going haywire, like someone had hacked the signal. “Now!” The bashers maneuvered their bulky PermaSteel bodies around one another, assembling into attack formation. Chatine knew she had to move quickly. One rayonette pulse she could dodge, but five? That would be rough. The pipe was too narrow to walk on, so Chatine shimmied across it on her stomach, weighing her options. The north exit was out of the question. It backed up to the Vallonay Policier Precinct, where she would certainly run into more droids. There was a catwalk about three mètres ahead of her. If she could reach it without getting shot, she could crawl the rest of the way to the east exit, back near Madame Dufour’s stall. A split second later, she felt the heat of the first rayonette pulse whizz by the side of her face. She sucked in a sharp breath and shimmied faster. A second droid took aim below her, its shot perfectly aligned at her left knee. She braced herself for the impact. But just then, a group of drunk exploit workers stumbled through the fray, arguing about who among them had the most Ascension points stored up. One of them crashed right into the droid, and the pulse barely missed her leg. “Oh, excuse me, Monsieur,” the drunk worker slurred to the droid, bowing ceremoniously. His friends broke out into hoots of laughter while Chatine took the opportunity to slide the rest of the way across the rusted pipe. Thank the Sols for strong weed wine, she thought as she launched herself toward the catwalk. She caught the railing with both hands just as a third pulse was fired from below. This one glanced her left shoulder. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it was enough. The pain was instant. Like someone had scraped her skin with a blazing-hot knife. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The sound would only improve the droids’ aim. Within seconds, her left arm started to lose sensation from the paralyzeur now pumping through her blood. She scrambled to swing her feet up over the ledge of the walkway but was unsuccessful. Now she was just dangling there, her feet paddling against the air. The droids shoved people aside as they zeroed in on her location. More rayonette pulses tore past her, rippling and bending the air. It was only a matter of time before another one found its target. Chatine knew she needed a distraction. She spotted a crate packed with chickens directly in front of her. She shook out her left arm, trying to chase away the numbness that was spreading toward her fingers, but it was no use. The paralyzeur was quickly working its way through her muscles. Favoring her right hand, she gripped the railing as tightly as she could and pumped her legs until she’d built up enough momentum to reach the crate. She arched her body and kicked her legs out hard. The crate crashed to the ground and busted open. The chickens squawked and tried to fly away, but their useless wings barely allowed them to get off the ground. The commotion was enough, though. People were screaming, the stall owner was desperately trying to wrangle the loose birds, and the Policier droids fought to barrel through it all. But their efforts only managed to rile up the birds even more. They fluttered about, scraping people with their sharp claws. The droids started firing with abandon. But with all the chaos below, their aim was poor. They hit more chickens than anything else. The birds absorbed the stun of the rayonettes and fell limp to the ground. They wouldn’t be able to move again for a few hours. With the droids distracted, Chatine was finally able to pull herself onto the catwalk and crawl, one-handed, across the rusty, metal plank before shimmying down a support beam next to Madame Dufour’s stall. She glanced back to see the bashers still trying to push their way through the crowd to reach her. But with the number of people in the Marsh today and the riled-up chickens, it wasn’t an easy task. Madame Dufour glared at Chatine, her wrinkled arms folded across her chest. “Like father, like son,” she said, making a tsk sound with her teeth. “Mark my words, boy, you’ll be rotting on the moon before the end of this year.” Chatine flashed her a goading grin before swiping a loaf of chou bread from one of Madame Dufour’s crates and darting toward the exit. “Arrête!” The old woman’s command sounded like a croak. “Get back here, you wretched croc!” “Thanks for breakfast!” Chatine called back in a singsong voice. And then, before the droids could track her or Madame Dufour could catch her, Chatine was gone. Once she’d put a good distance between herself and the marketplace, she slowed to a walk and massaged her dead arm with the opposite hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d been shot by a rayonette. And it probably wouldn’t be the last. The sensation would return soon enough. Chatine reached into her pocket and pulled out the pendant she had lifted from the Second Estater. She sucked off the sweet apricot juice and held the medallion in her open palm, studying it. For the first time, Chatine noticed the ornate golden Sol carved into the surface. It was unlike any of the three Sols that hung in the sky of the System Divine. This was a First World Sol. Its brilliant, fiery rays flared out to the edge of the medallion. Chatine reverently clasped the pendant around her neck, a rare genuine smile creeping across her face. She hadn’t seen the light of a Sol in nine years. This was definitely a sign of good things to come. Excerpted from Sky Without Stars by Jessica Brody and Joanne Rendell. Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Brody and Joanne Rendell. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Book Links:  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34513785-sky-without-stars Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1534410635/ref=as_li_qf_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=theunoaddboof-20&creative=9325&linkCode=as2&creativeASIN=1534410635&linkId=feb74b0ddbf635416ba2f226261deeed Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Sky-Without-Stars-Jessica-Brody/9781534410633?ref=grid-view&qid=1549403509338&sr=1-1 B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sky-without-stars-jessica-brody/1128863849?ean=9781534410633&st=AFF&SID=www.barnesandnoble.com&2sid=Royal+Social+Media_7992605_NA&sourceId=AFFRoyal+Social+Media&cjevent=2866ff23299011e9829a01080a180514&dpid=tekz25v83 iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/sky-without-stars/id1431862368?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4 Google Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Jessica_Brody_Sky_Without_Stars?id=Yj1qDwAAQBAJ&hl=en Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ch/en/ebook/sky-without-stars-1 Pre-Order Campaign: Pre-order a hardcover of SKY WITHOUT STARS by Jessica Brody and Joanne Rendell from a participating indie bookstore* before March 26, 2019 and you’ll receive an exclusive Sky Without Stars Gift Pack, including the following: ·         A limited edition two-sided 12”x16” poster featuring the ONLY available colored version of the book’s world map ·         A Sky Without Stars bookplate, signed by both authors ·         A Sky Without Stars postcard ·         A Sky Without Stars bookmark The gift pack will be included with your book when it is shipped or picked up in store. *Click here for participating stores. About the Author: Jessica Brody Jessica Brody is the author of more than 15 books for teens, tweens, and adults including Addie Bell’s Shortcut to Growing Up, A Week of Mondays, Boys of Summer, 52 Reasons to Hate My Father, and the three books in the sci-fi Unremembered trilogy. She’s also the author of the Descendants: School of Secrets series, based on the hit Disney Channel original movie, Descendants. Her books have been translated and published in over 23 countries and Unremembered and 52 Reasons to Hate My Father are currently in development as major motion pictures. She lives with her husband and four dogs and splits her time between California and Colorado. Visit her online at JessicaBrody.com. Follow her on Twitter or Instagram @JessicaBrody Joanne Rendell Joanne Rendell is the author of three novels and holds a PhD in English literature. She teaches fiction writing to teens and kids and is a board member for the youth Shakespeare company, New Genesis Productions. With her husband and son, Joanne divides her time between New York City, and New Paltz, New York. Visit Joanne at JoanneRendell.com. Giveaway: Prize: Win a copy of SKY WITHOUT STARS by Jessica Brody and Joanne Rendell (US Only) Stars: 20th March 2019 Ends: 2nd April 2019 a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: http://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2019/02/tour-schedule-sky-without-stars-system.html March 20th  The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Interview with Joanne Rendell March 21st NovelKnight - Guest Post Andi's ABCs - Book Spotlight L.M. Durand - Review Book Beach Bunny - Review + Dream Cast That Artsy Reader Girl - Interview with Jessica Brody March 22nd BookCrushin - Guest Post Hauntedbybooks - Review + Favourite Quotes Dazzled by Books - Review + Favourite Quotes The Mind of a Book Dragon - Review + Playlist March 23rd Wishful Endings - Interview Lisa Loves Literature - Review Moonlight Rendezvous - Review + Favourite Quotes everywhere and nowhere - Review March 24th Here's to Happy Endings - Review Malanie Loves Fiction - Review A Dream Within A Dream - Review Confessions of a YA Reader - Promotional Post March 25th Library of a Book Witch - Review Hopelessly Devoted Bibliophile - Review Adventures Thru Wonderland - Review Camillea Reads - Review + Favourite Quotes March 26th Book Slaying - Interview Bookwyrming Thoughts - Review It Starts at Midnight - Review In Between Book Pages - Review + Favourite Quotes

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I am a big fan of the wonderfully crafted NBC drama This Is Us. It makes me cry pretty much every episode. The soundtrack music is well-chosen, and the depiction of past decades makes me warm with nostalgia.

The cast of This Is Us.

The show is a touching family saga as well as a commentary on issues such as fat shaming, racism, depression, alcoholism (well-depicted, I must say, which isn’t always true), and other important topics. As I have been hearing from more and more people, arguably the heart of the show is father Jack Pearson, played heartbreakingly by Milo Ventimiglio.

Actor Milo Ventimiglio.

Jack Pearson is a man with demons, he is flawed, but he is a good man. And he loves his family more than anything.

The young Pearson family.

Grown up Pearson family.

As a sensitive person who cries at the silliest things, the recent October 16th episode of the show that was devoted to Jack’s  backstory and his volunteering to go to Vietnam in 1971 had me teary-eyed from the get-go. I still tear up when I think back on it. It made me unbearably sad, not just for the characters on the show, but for every young person sent off to war, facing the possibility of their own death, leaving their loved ones behind.

Jack (in front of the star on the vehicle’s door) with his company in Vietnam.

A big part of what made the story so moving was Jack’s reason for volunteering in the first place. He could have sat out the war with his 4-F classification, using his heart condition to justify not going. But he’s been told all his life that his job is to protect his little brother Nicky. His bond with and love for Nicky is fierce. When Nicky is drafted and  things go badly for him from the beginning, Jack manages to bypass his medical status through a trick his doctor reluctantly passes on to him, and off he goes. It’s not a spoiler that Nicky doesn’t survive. That’s been known from the beginning of the series. It makes it that much harder to watch as Jack goes, since we know that he won’t be able to save Nicky in the end.

Nicky and Jack.

The episode is so well-crafted, written by series creator Dan Fogelman with Vietnam veteran and author Tim O’Brien, most known for his influential and thought-provoking short story The Things They Carried.

Wrier Tim O’Brien in Vietnam, 1969.

Writer Tim O’Brien.

The music that stood out to me and sent me down a rabbit hole of research and music purchasing was Tom Rush’s version of Child’s Song. It is haunting in the show’s context of a young man leaving home for war. The song of growing up and moving on, written by Murray McLauchlan and released by Tom Rush on his 1970 album Tom Rush, will have different meanings depending on your age, family circumstances, etc. Tom Rush has been reported to have said that it took him 3 months after recording it to be able to sing it in public without starting to cry. It’s that real.

  Goodbye momma goodbye to you too pa Little sister you’ll have to wait a while to come along Goodybye to this house and all its memories

We just got too old to say we’re wrong Got to make one last trip to my bedroom Guess I’ll have to leave some stuff behind

It’s funny how the same old crooked pictures Just don’t seem the same to me tonight There ain’t no use in shedding lonely tears mamma

There ain’t no use in shouting at me pa I can’t live no longer with your fears mamma I love you but that hasn’t helped at all

Each of us must do the things that matter All of us must see what we can see It was long ago you must remember

You were once as young and scared as me I don’t know how hard it is yet mamma When you realize you’re growing old

I know how hard is not to be younger I know you’ve tried to keep me from the cold Thanks for all you done it may sound hollow

Thank you for the good times that we’ve known But I must find my own road now to follow You will all be welcome in my home

Got my suitcase I must go now I don’t mind about the things you said I’m sorry Mom I don’t know where I’m going

Remember little sister look ahead Tomorrow I’ll be in some other sunrise Maybe I’ll have someone at my side

Mamma give your love back to your husband Father you’ve have taught we well goodbye Goodbye Mamma goodbye to you too pa Goodbye momma goodbye to you too pa

Little sister you’ll have to wait a while to come along Goodybye to this house and all it’s memories We just got too old to say we’re wrong

Got to make one last trip to my bedroom Guess I’ll have to leave some stuff behind It’s funny how the same old crooked pictures

Just don’t seem the same to me tonight There ain’t no use in shedding lonely tears mamma There ain’t no use in shouting at me pa

I can’t live no longer with your fears mamma I love you but that hasn’t helped at all Each of us must do the things that matter

All of us must see what we can see It was long ago you must remember You were once as young and scared as me

I don’t know how hard it is yet mamma When you realize you’re growing old I know how hard is not to be younger

I know you’ve tried to keep me from the cold Thanks for all you done it may sound hollow Thank you for the good times that we’ve known

But I must find my own road now to follow You will all be welcome in my home Got my suitcase I must go now

I don’t mind about the things you said I’m sorry Mom I don’t know where I’m going Remember little sister look ahead

Tomorrow I’ll be in some other sunrise Maybe I’ll have someone at my side Mamma give your love back to your husband Father you’ve have taught me well goodbye Goodbye Mamma goodbye to you too pa

  The feeling of sadness, despair, and gloom I felt might have been compounded by the realization, after watching the magnificent Ken Burns and Lynn Novick documentary series The Vietnam War that aired on PBS starting in September, 2017, of how little I knew about the conflict in Vietnam and its repercussions, about the lies behind the war, and the needless loss of so many lives. The soldiers who survived came back forever changed and were met with hostility. When I watched the series, I just wanted to curl up in bed under the covers and never come out.

Lynn Novick and Ken Burns.

The feelings that The Vietnam War, This Is Us, and Child’s Song wrought in me reminded me the disturbing and, for me, life changing, art exhibition I worked on when I was with the now-defunct Copia: The American Center for Wine, Food & the Arts in Napa, California.

As the assistant registrar in the art exhibitions department, it was my task to count and document the condition of each work of art displayed in any exhibition. In about 2003, we presented a show of artist Julie Green’s painted plates, The Last Supper, in which she painstakingly depicts the last meal requests of real death row prisoners who’ve been executed. Talk about a difficult subject…

Oregon-based artist Julie Green and The Last Supper.

Last I checked, the plate collection was up to over 700. That represents 700 real people who have been put to death by various state governments. People who knew they would die, who knew when they would die, and how. Who ordered their last meals, and either ate them or didn’t (I wouldn’t be able to), and then prepared for their executions. As I handled each plate, reading on the backs the locations and dates of the executions and looking at the images of the requested meals, I felt sad, sick, hopeless, ashamed. My intention is not to start a political debate about the death penalty. What I am trying to convey is that sense of empathy for another human being, of trying to understand what it’s like for someone facing their own mortality. I talk about practicing kindness, compassion, and empathy a lot, not because it comes naturally for me but because I have to work at it. Yes, the people (predominantly but not all men) whose meals are illustrated in the plates were convicted of horrible crimes. I am not defending them. I am lamenting a society in which we can justify taking the lives of others.

Across from the Bay Area Rapid Transit System (BART) station in nearby Lafayette, California are the white crosses on the hill that can be seen from Highway 24. An anti-war memorial, each cross represents an American soldier killed in Iraq or Afghanistan since 2006. The last count I found was close to 8,000 crosses on the 2.7 acre hillside. It’s hard to capture the felling in engenders when seen. It’s vast and beautiful and disturbing and sobering all at the same time.

I honestly don’t know how to shake off the feelings of despair and hopelessness. On of the things I strive for these days is positivity and cheerfulness. But you can’t always be positive and cherrful, can you? There are bad things in the world, and despite my desire to bury my head in the sand and avoid anything unhappy, I feel like I have an obligation to increase my awareness of what is happening in my neighborhood, my country, my world. It is only with knowledge that we can make change.

  P.S. Maybe it will cheer you up to look back on a younger Milo Ventimiglio, who was Rory’s love interest Jess Mariano on another favorite show, Gilmore Girls, in 2002. I was definitely one of the show’s fans who hoped Rory would end up with Jess. He was the misunderstood, brooding bad boy, just the right counterpart to too-good-to-be-true Rory.

Maybe that’s what I need–no, not a bad boy, but to watch some Gilmore Girls as an antidote to my “the world sucks” blues. A little time in fictional Stars Hollow, where everyone knows each other and you can drink coffee to your heart’s content at Luke’s Diner. Escapism at its best!

As always, peace and hugs.

Crying for those we don’t know I am a big fan of the wonderfully crafted NBC drama This Is Us. It makes me cry pretty much every episode.