Other Nature

Other Nature Kerry Williams Skye High Publishing Copyright © 2023 by Kerry Williams All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Design: Moonshot Covers Interior Design: SSB Covers and Design Editor: Swish Design and Editing Publisher: Skye High Publishing For my sister, Roxy. My first and number one fan! Without you consuming my stories and demanding more, this book wouldn’t be in your hands today. Thank you. You gave me ALL the confidence to do this. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 About the Author Chapter One Connie Sweat drips. Rolls in beads down my chest. Mostly I enjoy the heat, but today it’s suffocating. I gaze out the window with longing. It has been the most glorious summer. The hottest on record for our part of the world. Our tiny corner of the world, where I was born and raised, is Wixford. The perfect country village—hamlet, but around here, we all call it the village—in the heart of England. A place where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever changes. It’s so boring that I can’t wait to escape. When I glance across at Lorna—my best friend—she shares a dramatic eye roll with me as we wait for the rest of the students to file into the room. I give her a cheesy grin in return. The prospect of another year in the same place with the same people is like enduring a life sentence for us both. Wixford is beautiful but monotonous. There’s nothing but green and country roads with little more than a cluster of businesses—a coffee shop, a pub, a church, and an old abandoned railway. Our school is a twenty-minute bike ride away, and although it also services the neighboring town and villages, it comes with the same notion that everyone knows everyone’s business. Sometimes even before they do. Not that it matters—there is a tendency to focus on the mundane here. My year group hasn’t changed much in all my seventeen years. I grew up with all these people, with the exception of my best friends. Even from a young age, the desire to have some excitement in my life, no matter how insignificant it may be, has always been there. First came Brady. His family moved to a farm just outside Wixford when we were seven. It was long enough ago that I can’t remember life without him anymore. Brady was popular right away. His flaming-red hair and Jack Russell-style personality make him hard not to like. I can’t recall him ever being angry, except with his brothers and sisters. He is full of energy and always fun to be around. Regardless, I was the first one to want to be his friend, which Brady never forgot. I’ve spent many hours on his family’s farm because it was always the best place for playing games as we grew up. Lorna’s family moved here three years after Brady. Things had been different for Lorna, more difficult. At first, I didn’t understand why. To me, she was the most incredible person I’d ever set my eyes on. Her silky jet-black hair traveled all the way down her back to her bum, and her dark round eyes were framed with thick, heavy black lashes. She looked like a princess from a distant land. I didn’t just want to be Lorna’s friend—I had to be her friend. She is a beautiful contrast to myself. Tall where I am short, and her hair always long, where mine bobs around my shoulders. While my hair is a shiny dark brown, it’s nothing compared to her sleek raven locks. I love the way her tanned Indian skin contrasts my own paleness. Her eyes are dark and soft, whereas mine are green and bright. I think my eyes are the only thing I truly love about myself. Now that I’m older, I realize the prejudice she and her family faced when they first moved here. I never fathomed the stares and the whispers she got. That was seven years ago. Things moved on, and now Lorna and her family are cherished members of the village. Other than that, nothing has changed since then. This year, however, is a tad different. It’s our last year here before Lorna and I move away to university. One year and then I will be able to start a new life. If all goes well, a life with a bit more excitement. For now, it’s hard to keep that in mind as our schedules get handed out. A year seems like an awful long time. I’m only half taking in our head of year’s speech about the importance of applying ourselves this year when the school administrator enters the room, somewhat flustered. “Mr. Thompson, I have your two new students here.” Two new students? Everyone’s attention snaps to the front of the room. It’s obvious they’re all thinking the same as me. In a village where everything is news, how could we not know about this? I rack my mind trying to remember any houses for sale but can’t think of any. They must not have moved to Wixford but somewhere close by. Still, two new students. To my right, Lorna is gawking at me with her wide brown eyes. “What the?” she mouths at me. I shrug my shoulders, every bit as baffled as her. It’s comical how the whole room stares at the open door, taking a collective breath while we