Meet Bethany Hazard

From Legacies Unmasked, book 5 of  Not the Same River.

***

A multicoloured girl sat on a multicoloured sofa, watching us. As we fanned out, Albert towards a shelf of tiny painted soldiers, Lucifer towards a giant, wind-up snow globe, and me towards the windows to figure out where the light came from, the multicoloured girl’s gaze settled on Lucifer. She squinted at him, then scratched frantically at the pad on her lap.

War spun round. “God’s balls, Bethany, you need to stop blending in like that.”

“I’m the middle child, Dad,” she said, her voice low and husky. “It’s my job to blend in.”

War rolled his eyes. So, this was Button—Bod’s sister. And War was … Bod’s dad? Bethany looked about fourteen, with waist-length blonde hair, every strand of it showing faded evidence of past experimentation with various shades of dye.

“Are you drawing?” I said.

“Collecting,” she said.

“She writes,” said War.

I looked down at her scratchy, upside-down writing. “What are you collecting?”

She stretched her legs along the sofa, her bare toes burrowing into a cushion. It took me a moment to realise she was wearing leggings and wasn’t actually tattooed from hip to ankle with skulls and roses.

Finally, she said, “People.”

“Will you collect me in there?”

She picked an eyeball off one of her rubber wristbands and frowned at it, then poked it into the small chest pocket on her shirt. The other wristband had spiders on it. I pitied whoever had to go through her pockets when they did the laundry.

Bethany said, “If you ever do anything interesting.”

Albert made a strangled choking sound.

“What’s the black page for?” I said.

“This?” She pulled out a floppy, shiny sheet. “Carbon paper. It makes a copy on the page underneath. It’s how I know if I’ve missed anything.”

“Right.” I had no idea what she was talking about. “If you’re the middle child, how many of you are there?”

“I’m number six.”

“There’s eleven of you?”

“No, there’s one of me. The rest are different.”

“My grandmother has seven. I thought that was bad enough. But eleven?”

“Filthy, isn’t it?” she said, standing up next to her dad, shooting him a look of mild contempt.

She was almost as tall as War, which wasn’t difficult since she was approximately eighty percent leg and he couldn’t have been more than five-four. She looked both sparky and sullen, with fuse-lit blue eyes and a querulous pout.

bethanycoll

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Planet Simon

Creating worlds in word and art and exploring the universe in which we exist.

Much Abdou About Nothing

Ramblings of a Jack of All Trades, Master of None

Sarah Tanzmann

Writer of YA Fiction (and more...)

Eleanor Musgrove

The writings of E.A. Musgrove

Gothic Bite Magazine

Come in for a bite...

El Jefe Speaks

The Wholly Unsolicited Opinions of G. Michael Reynolds

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

READER - WRITER - RESOURCES - & MORE

Libby Sommer, Author

The Writing Life

Realistic Magic

Some facts, some fiction, and occasional verse, by Sara N. Gardiner

bits and bots

kim a. howard

Dawn Blair - Tours of Imagination

Which adventure will you choose?

alison evans

like wow

Ari Meghlen - Writer | Blogger | Bad card player

Tips, tricks and tutorials for writers and authors

ryen lesli

the Witch

Bleeding Ink, Inc

A Guide to Shredding Your Writing Without Shredding Your Soul

N. K. Valek: Author/ Creative Editor

Translations, Poetry, and Books

Jennifer ~ Tar Heel Reader

Reading under the light of a Carolina moon

The Bibliophagist

Reviewing young adult, new adult, and romance since 2013.

%d bloggers like this: