My people believe that wearing Azurite can heal the damaged soul" Desiree Sumner needs massive healing when she enters high school. Her parents' separation and the death of her beloved grandfather throw her life into upheaval. She loses most of her interests and falls into a hazy kaleidoscope of daydreams. By her senior year, she's begun to heal when she learns of geology field trip to the Grand Canyon-an adventure she and her grandfather had intended to have someday. Their geology teacher mysteriously omits the camp's location from the permission slip and is oddly secretive about the real purpose for this annual trip. When the class finally arrives at the canyon, they are met with warm rains and a record snowmelt that causes the canyon waterways to overflow. The rising waters cut Desiree off from her group, and she encounters the forces of the Grand Canyon, the most frightening thing that's ever happened to her. Will she be able to escape with her life?
THE AZURITE ENCOUNTER
By JANE FRANCES RUBYiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 Jane Frances Ruby
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4502-3854-0Chapter One
Despite great speed and agility the ill-fated prey could not avoid his predators. He tried everything. He hid among the structures and tried to blend in with the scenery, but his enemies had keen eyesight and flushed him out. He retreated back to what was once a safe haven on familiar grounds, but they quickly caught his scent and followed him. He even bluffed a threat to attack, but they weren't intimidated. He was running out of time and tricks. His approaching enemy countered every strategic move that he attempted. Ultimately he was surrounded on all sides, and escape was impossible. He coughed. He choked and gasped for air as his enemy pounced on him.
"Checkmate!" Candice cried and looked across the table for her opponent's confirmation. Desiree glanced at the board looking for any possible escape from her king's apparent capture, but she had to concede.
"Well, Candice Carter, you are indeed a ruthless hunter, but I admire your integrity," said Desiree as she stood up and slowly bowed to her best friend. Candice popped up from her seat and snatched up Desiree's king. Clenching it in her fist Candice raised it high above her strawberry-blond hair as if to show power and superiority over Desiree and the rest of the world.
"Oh, yes! That's why I'm the most worthy opponent in this club," Candice proudly decreed. Her wavy, layered hair ruffled with every turn of her head. She then addressed the other players. "By the way, the same goes for the next fool who challenges me!"
Moans spontaneously rose from some of the other tables, but all heads remained bent over chessboards that topped several classroom tables. The reaction could have been a reply to Candice's threat, or perhaps because other kings were in jeopardy. Desiree reached up to retrieve her king piece from Candice's grasp.
"It sounds like the rest of the club doubts your malice," said Desiree as her long, strong fingers pried open Candice's hand. Candice wanted to savor her victory a little more, so she tried to hold on a little longer.
"Ow! Desiree, not only are you breaking my fingers, but you're also spoiling my victory dance," said Candice. She was a lot shorter than Desiree and had less leverage to keep her captured prize. But she finally gave in and released Desiree's king. She then put her hands on her hips and danced a quick jig while circling in place.
"Oh, yeah, look at me, I'm the best, in the west, no doubt, hear me out," she chanted, but this time her disturbance generated a few derogatory comments along with the moans.
Desiree politely flashed a smile as she gathered the rest of her chess pieces. She placed them carefully into a black, velvet sack. They were the typical size and weight of chess pieces with no fancy motif. But the dark pieces were actually a deep blue, and lighter pieces were cream-colored with gold flakes. They were a special gift from her beloved grandfather for her sixth birthday. She wasn't interested in chess at the time, but she still found the pieces intriguing as well as the story behind them.
Her grandfather found them in a remote, slot canyon he discovered in the Grand Canyon National Park. She could remember the tale of that canyon, and how he saw the most strikingly blue-colored mineral in the wall. He fancied off-trail hiking and never mentioned where this particular canyon was or how he happened upon it. Maybe he took a wrong turn. Maybe a sudden flash flood washed him there-she heard news reports of those kinds of mishaps during the Monsoon Season. He never chipped the pieces from the canyon wall. Instead, he found them lying on the ground. He said they seemed to be placed in an odd array with the creamy-gold nuggets opposite the blue ones-almost like chess pieces on a board. That's where he got the idea.
She loved his story telling. He always had a fantastic tale of adventure to accompany each souvenir. Whether the story was true or made up didn't matter. When she got the chess pieces she sat for hours on the backyard tire swing just holding them and reminiscing his tale. He promised to take her to that hidden canyon when she got older, and she couldn't wait for that day.
But just before she entered ninth grade he died from a blood infection. She didn't understand all the complicated, medical issues. All she knew was that he got an infection from a simple, stupid prick on his finger while pruning rose bushes in his backyard. It wasn't fair that he died that way-he was so much bigger, stronger and braver than those heinous, thorny plants. Her long-awaited opportunity to hike with her grandfather vanished like a krill in the jaws of a whale. Even now as a high school senior she still mourns his death and her unrealized dream.
A tear trickled down her cheek as she finished bagging the chess pieces. She sniffled and tightened the chess bag cord. Candice noticed and stopped dancing. She gently wrapped one arm around Desiree's shoulder.
"Sorry, Desiree, guess I overdid it. I never thought you'd take defeat so badly."
Desiree's image of her wiry, leather-skinned grandpa with bright turquoise eyes whisked away like smoke from a gust of wind. An annoyingly boastful classmate replaced it. Desiree wiped away her tear then glared back.
"Candice, I'm not going to get over it because, as they say, what doesn't kill me will make me want to beat the tar out of you next time." Candice stopped to think about Desiree's statement.
"Desiree, shouldn't it be what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?" Candice asked.
"Yeah, that, too," Desiree replied as she packed her school bag.
Candice scratched her head in confusion. Then the two hugged and laughed, but the shushing sounds accompanied by death threats caused them to scurry towards the classroom door. As boastful as Candice was, Desiree still cherished her friendship.
Candice helped Desiree get through a few, troubled teenage years. They've only known each other since ninth grade. They attended different middle schools, so their paths had never crossed until they stumbled upon each other-literally-at their adjoining, high school lockers.
On that day Candice had just opened hers to get a notebook, and all her softball equipment tumbled onto the hallway floor. It piled in front of Desiree just as she was running to class. With a resounding gasp she stumbled over the bats and softballs sending them into other lockers with loud, metallic bangs.
Desiree tried her hardest to maintain balance while negotiating all the rolling and bouncing hazards under her feet. All the noise she generated set off the security alarm. She fell to the floor while trying to grab any arm from the sea of students standing nearby. Miraculously Desiree landed softly onto her back. She hid her face hoping that no upper classmen noticed the commotion.
Fat chance! Everybody in the hall pointed and laughed at Desiree who was now buried in equipment wearing a catchers' mitt on her head. Candice, herself, couldn't help laughing. She caught her breath and extended her hand to help Desiree.
"That would be my fault." Candice confessed.
"Which senior set you up for this?" Desiree asked as she reached for Candice's hand.
"They could never be this creative. My name's Candice, by the way. Any broken bones?"
"Mine's Desiree, and, no, I don't think so," Desiree replied as she sat up and removed the mitt from her head, "but this hat that I'm wearing is way last season." Candice took the mitt from Desiree.
"Worse than that; rawhide leather just doesn't work with your skin color."
They both laughed-louder than the crowd and the security alarm combined.
That was four years ago. Since then they've been the best of school buddies even though times were rocky for Desiree. She was still bereaving her grandpa when her parents separated. She felt helpless watching her family fall apart. She lost concentration at school and dance practices.
Candice realized this during their casual dialogues at the lockers between classes. Most of the time she just listened when Desiree's problems flew from her lips like the flight of hungry bats from a cave at dusk. Any typical teenager would have ignored Desiree or suggested counseling. But Candice was not typical. She had a special gift of listening. Instead of impressing Desiree with all her athletic achievements Candice would simply listen to Desiree's outpouring of troubles.
Most of the time Desiree's troubles were resolved or at least minimized by class change, and Candice would end the chat with a smile or a few words of encouragement. That was usually all Desiree needed to feel better. Their developing friendship helped lift Desiree out of her gloom.
Outside of school, however, they led different lives. Candice was a gifted athlete. She earned varsity letters in every sport that she played. Her favorite, however, was fencing. She felt as a lefty she had the advantage over the right-handed fencers.
On the other hand Desiree preferred the fine and performing arts. She learned to play piano when she was six-years old. Her mom enrolled her in ballet and tap classes ever since she learned to walk. She always landed dancing or musical parts in school performances.
Desiree and Candice had only one common denominator besides adjacent lockers-the chess club. It was an opportunity to chat when they sat across a chessboard. Desiree was by far the most experienced player in the club.
Today, however, Desiree let Candice win although not too handily. Desiree loved to see Candice's freckled face light up with glee. And of course there was the victory dance that followed.
"Haven't you two left yet?" an annoyed chess club member growled from the array of heads. Candice looked back at the other players then turned to Desiree.
"We'd better leave before these losers throw us out," she warned loudly for everyone to hear. Then the girls quickly exited to the hallway. The February sun hung low in the sky casting a reddish glow through the small windows of the doors leading to the parking lot. Candice pulled out her sunglasses.
"Never thought I'd need these just before sunset," she said. "It must be murder driving west on the expressway at this time." Desiree likewise put on her sunglasses.
"Yeah, for once I'm glad I don't drive," she said.
Their figures cast shadows that trailed and refracted across the floor behind them like a large-headed serpent. The girls whispered and giggled as they came to the exit doors. A few yards before their exit a raspy, threatening voice came from behind them.
"You need to control your emotional outbursts in the chess room, or else there will be carnage where you stand." Both girls stopped but did not turn.
"Hey, Wesley," answered Candice, who didn't so much as flinch from his approach. "My outburst didn't mess up your concentration, did it?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, Candice," Wesley replied as he jumped in front of them. "I lost my match way before your outburst-but enough about me. Are you two doing the field trip next month?"
"Field trip?" Desiree turned to Candice. "What field trip?"
"Desiree, I put the permission slip in your folder right at the end of Geology class today," Candice replied. "Remember? No, I guess not because you were too busy gazing at the rocks in the display case."
"They're not rocks, they're crystals," corrected Desiree.
"They're not crystals," interrupted Wesley, who was just dying to get into this argument. "They're special lenses that diffract Desiree's focus in class."
"Wes, you're such a dweeb," Desiree replied as she gently punched Wes in the arm. "But seriously, where's it this time? I hope it's not to a museum or dairy farm." Candice and Wes paused and faced each other. Finally Candice spoke.
"What's wrong with museums? I love museums!" Candice exclaimed. "My favorite was the Hall of Flame Museum. They had the best firemen's pole for sliding." Wes ignored Candice and pulled Desiree's arm twirling her back towards him.
"And what do you have against those all-important, dairy farms that produce bone-strengthening nourishment to millions of calcium-deprived Americans? Good nutrition is very important don't you-?"
"Wesley, STOP!" Desiree emphatically interrupted. She always cut him off before he gained momentum with his hideous monologues. Wesley pulled out his lower lip, scowled, bent his head down to the floor, and turned towards the exit doors in complete rejection. Desiree and Candice followed him out and laughed as they skipped down the outdoor steps to the parking lot. Both girls were just about to pull out cell phones to call for a ride, but Wes was way ahead of them.
"Will you be nice to me if I drive the both of you home?" Wes offered. "I just had my car cleaned."
"Really? That's a first," Desiree replied in amazement.
"OK, we'll be nice, if you'll be quiet," Candice answered.
"Deal!" Wesley cried. Candice and Desiree laughed and flanked him. They all wrapped arms around each other's waist and skipped like giddy first-graders down the paved walk towards Wesley's car. Their being seniors meant they could act this way without ridicule from any lower classmen. It was one of the senior privileges.
Wesley Ward was another good friend of Desiree's who accompanied her to sports games or theatrical performances. He was more cerebral and sensitive than most guys at school. She really enjoyed his odd sense of humor. He seemed comfortable with his teenage awkwardness, and he used it to make fun of himself and guys in general just to amuse her.
He weaseled out of early boyhood troubles with his quick wit because the neighborhood bullies had no ammunition for teasing. If they made fun of his tall, skinny build-
-Hey Scarecrow, where's Tin Man?
Wesley would come back with an even funnier reply:
-I would know if I only had a brain!
If they'd pick on his bottle-thick glasses:
Do those double as binoculars?
His comeback was even funnier:
-Binoculars? More like replacement lenses for the Hubble Telescope!
This made the bullies laugh even harder.
He had no social problems at elementary and middle school because he was home-schooled like all his siblings. His dad owned a consulting business and was always traveling. His mom ran the household as well the schooling for all six children. They were amazingly smart and socially adjusted because she impressed the importance of teamwork, patience and tolerance. When Wes was old enough for high school his mom turned him loose in the world of public education. He fit in perfectly-just like his older siblings.
Wesley's frame filled out with lean muscles from many years of competitive swimming. Contact lenses replaced his eyeglasses, and the world finally saw his pale-green eyes. They especially attracted Desiree because the color resembled the large crystal in Geology class. As a self-proclaimed late-bloomer Wesley had to fight off all the high school girls ("because they're only after one thing" he would say to Desiree) and used his quick humor to keep Desiree's other chess club friends laughing. Wes has won the Class Clown Award since ninth grade and will most probably win it again this year as a senior.
"So, Wes, about the field trip," continued Desiree, "where's it at?"
"No museum nor dairy farm," answered Wesley. "It's a geological study at the Grand Canyon." They all sat in the front seat of a large, pick up truck that Wesley inherited from his dad. It used to carry all his dad's construction equipment, which many times came straight from a dusty or muddy site. Wesley had the truck for over a year, but he never found time for custom detailing. As a result some of the construction artifacts still remained in the carpet and on the seats. Wes opened his window, and dust from the graveled parking lot blew in the truck's cab. "Ugh, now I have to vacuum in here again." Desiree coughed a little as she tried to fan some of the road dust away from her face.
"The Grand Canyon? You're kidding, right?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Wes turned to her while continuing to fan out the window.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from THE AZURITE ENCOUNTERby JANE FRANCES RUBY Copyright © 2010 by Jane Frances Ruby. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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