Chicklish: EXTRACT: The Holders by Julianna Scott

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We'd like to welcome Julianna Scott, author of The Holders, published by Strange Chemistry. Here's more about the book...

"17-year-old Becca has spent her whole life protecting her brother - from their father leaving and from the people who say the voices in his head are unnatural. When two strangers appear with apparent answers to Ryland's "problem" and details about a school in Ireland where Ryland will not only fit in, but prosper, Becca is up in arms. She reluctantly agrees to join Ryland on his journey and what they find at St. Brigid's is a world beyond their imagination. Little by little they piece together information about their family's heritage and the legend of the Holder race that decrees Ryland is the one they've been waiting for. But they are all, especially Becca, in for a surprise that will change what they thought they knew about themselves and their kind."

Read on for an extract from The Holders by Julianna Scott...

The next morning, I had made it all the way down to the main entryway – without getting lost, I might add – on my way to meet Alex, when I heard someone calling my name.

“Becca, lass!”

I looked over toward the lounge area adjacent to the main foyer, to find Mr. Anderson waving me over.

“We don’t need a second opinion! You lost, take it like a man!” a second voice chided.

“We need a second opinion because you’re a rotten cheat, and I don’t trust you far as I can throw you!”

I entered the lounge area, where Mr. Anderson and the baldheaded man from the office eavesdropping incident yesterday, were standing side by side in the corner of the room, looking down and pointing at the floor.

“Here now, lass,” Mr. Anderson said seeing me. “Come over here, and tell us which is closer.”

I stepped up to see what they were hovering over, to find several square shaped folded pieces of paper scattered across the floor. Two of which seemed to be almost exactly the same distance away from a small red dot taped to the floor.

“Bocci?” I asked, remembering a similar game we played in gym.

“In Italy it’s bocci, in Ireland it’s bowls,” the bald man said, extending his hand toward me. “Duncan Reid, Miss Ingle, it’s a pleasure.”

“Becca, please,” I said, shaking his hand. He had large hands though he was very skinny, and had a slight accent that I couldn’t quite place.

“Now,” he said, mockingly apologetic, “if you could do us a favor and put this poor, blind fool out of his misery and inform him that he’s lost–”

“No you don’t!” Mr. Anderson yelled, pushing Mr. Reid away from me. “She’ll do it on her own, with no help from the likes of a cheat!”

“I am not a cheat! You are a sore loser, sir!”

“Well,” I mused, looking it over, “the corner of the one on the right is a tiny bit closer…”

“Haha!” Mr. Reid laughed, clearly the owner of the right square.

“That’s because you moved it!” Mr. Anderson insisted.

“You want to see me move it,” Mr. Reid said, exacerbated. “I’ll move it!”

At that moment all the paper squares came flying up off the floor and straight into Mr. Anderson’s face like a flock of attacking seagulls. They then started to hover around him, slapping him in the face, poking him on the nose, ruffling at his hair. I gave a yelp, and looked up to Mr. Reid, expecting him to go to his friend’s aid, but he simply stood there watching and chuckling, looking vastly amused.

Then it dawned on me. “Are you doing that?” I asked, as Mr. Anderson began swatting at the flying papers as he would a swarm of bees, cursing under his breath.

Mr. Reid nodded. “It’s what I do. Did no one tell you? I’m a Kinetic, I can move objects without touching them.”

“Oh, so that’s why he thinks you cheated?” I asked, watching the assault on Mr. Anderson, with wonder. “Can you move anything, or does it have to be something light?”

“Anything,” he smiled. “Here, have a seat.”