E.V. Everest
Seven Crowns
First published by Everest Publications 2020
Copyright © 2020 by E.V. Everest
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
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Contents
Dedication
1. Last Shift
2. An Unhappy Birthday
3. Ms. Kandinsky
4. The Girl in the Freezer
5. Flight of the Bumblebee
6. Spaceships & Coffee Cups
7. Belly of the Bee
8. Bellaton
9. Welcome Parade
10. Swords & Ivy
11. The Academy
12. Gifts
13. Firetongue
14. Midnight Stroll
15. Starry Night
16. Beachside Bonfire
17. A Rat
18. Dock Street Animal Rescue
19. Virtual Reality vs. Reality
20. A Royal Invitation
21. Snow Day
22. The Capital
23. The Council
24. An Immodest Proposal
25. Uncalculated Risk
26. Fleur Laboratory
27. Samuel
28. The Letter
29. Hope Floats
30. Rockwell vs. Rockwell
31. The Plan
32. The Challenge
33. The Gambit
34. The Crown
35. Epilogue
Also by E.V. Everest
About the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the girls who read after lights out and dream of faraway places. Girls who know that science is within their grasp and magic is at their fingertips.
Also, to my two earliest readers, you know who you are.
1
Last Shift
A warm evening breeze drifted through the back door of the diner, lifting sweaty tendrils of hair from the nape of Ana’s neck. She submerged her hands in the lukewarm water and retrieved a plate, rinsed it, and placed it on the drying rack.
The kitchen was quiet this time of night, except for the tick, tick, tick of the clock. Occasionally, a sound from the alley would crack the silence. A car engine. Some broken laughter. But mostly it was quiet.
A squeaky grocery cart rolled by in the distance, and Ana turned to see a young homeless man coming down the lane. She watched as he passed by and then returned to her work. Humming a tune, she fell into an easy rhythm—plate, rinse, rack, plate, rinse, rack. The flies hung in the air around her as though they, too, were captivated by the diner’s late-night rhythm.
The homeless man circled back, and Ana realized that the smell of burgers and fries must be drawing him in. She wiped her wet hands on her apron and scooped some fries into a to-go box. He was waiting at the door now. She offered the box to him.
Though his hair was unkempt, his amber eyes had a sharp intelligence. He accepted the box, although he seemed far more interested in her. He opened his mouth to speak but only got out her name.
They were interrupted by her boss, Frank, who pushed through the metal doors. Frank was wearing his usual outfit—a pair of black trousers, a white button-down shirt, a long white apron, and a paper hat that read “Shirley’s Diner.” He looked like the proprietor of a 1950s soda shop or an old-fashioned milkman.
“Ana, I need you up front. Table eight is almost done with their meal.”
She nodded but hesitated at the door. How could this stranger know her name?
Frank, a retired police officer, gave the young man a crisp twenty-dollar bill and sent him back into the summer air. Ana watched as he retreated. In the dark alley, he looked back once. His eyes gleamed like a cat’s. Something she had never seen a human eye do.
Ana shook her head. It must be a trick of the light, she thought. She passed through the kitchen door, resigned to forget the whole thing. She had enough problems without inventing new ones.
The front of Shirley’s Diner was a monument to 1950s Americana and diner culture. There were large metal signs, an old-fashioned till, and a bold black, white, and teal color scheme. There were only two customers left in the diner. A man in a flannel work shirt and boots was demolishing an enormous burger, while his tall, lean wife looked on in distaste. She had ordered a chef’s salad.
Ana refilled their drinks and returned to her post at the counter.
Frank popped his head out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna settle the accounts,” he said. Although Frank had lived in the South for more than twenty years, his accent had never left New York. Luckily, neither had his cooking.
“No problem,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“And Ana?”
“Yeah?”
“No more late nights this week. You’ve got school to worry about.”
School was the last thing Ana wanted to think about. She buffed her anxieties into the chrome countertop until she could see her reflection. Her once long hair hung in short locks around her face. She had shaved her head during her mom’s chemo. Her hair only passed her chin now. Her eyes were large, brown, and beautiful but sad.
Her phone chirped in her apron pocket. Frank hated devices in the diner. She checked the glowing screen under the countertop. She had a new text message from her trash bag of a foster mom, Deirdre.
“Where were u?!” the text read.
Oh crap, Ana thought. How could she have been so stupid? Tonight was Parent Teacher Conference Night. She was supposed to have been at school! Deirdre had been left alone.
Worse yet, Ana had neglected to tell her foster mom a few tiny details, like she wouldn’t be moving up to the next grade. Ana had missed too many days of school. There was also the matter of the graffitied prom banner. Honestly, that had been pretty funny. She had turned Melia Ragsdale, the would-be prom queen, into a she-demon with a pitchfork. Nothing she didn’t deserve.
The phone chirped again. “This wasn’t part of our deal.”
Ana tucked the phone back into her apron and held down the volume button to silence it. Deirdre was going to be furious. There was no getting around that. After all, having one of your foster kids miss so much school that they failed the year didn’t really reflect well on your parenting skills. Still, there was nothing to do about it now.
The woman in the corner booth sighed. Her salad was gone, and it was obvious she was ready to go. Her husband licked the ketchup off his fingers. His gaudy ring gleamed in the harsh diner light, a ruby red stone encased in silver.
Ana stifled a smile. It was one of the ugliest pieces of jewelry she had ever seen. It was obviously fake. Who wore ten-carat rubies?
He fiddled with the ring, trying to remove a spot of ketchup.
She looked down at the countertop to stop herself from laughing.
Then the strangest thing happened. Her hair began to stand on end. Her tired feet felt almost weightless. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the forks and spoons on the table float in midair.
Ana looked up just in time to see them hit the tabletop with a loud clang. Her eyes widened. It couldn’t be.
; “Whoopsie,” declared the man. “Near ’bout dropped my fork.”
Ana rubbed her eyes. She really did need to get more sleep.
The man took one last swig of Coke, and the couple walked up to the cash register.
“Hi,” Ana said in the chipper tone she reserved for paying customers. “How was your meal?”
“The salad had too much dressing,” the woman said haughtily.
The man rolled his eyes at his wife. “Mine was just fine, darlin’,” he said, handing Ana the ticket. There was something off about his accent. It sounded more like the TV caricature of a Texas oilman than the authentic Southern accents she was used to hearing.
Ana punched the numbers into the cash register. “How about a slice of pie to go? On the house,” she added, her voice as sweet as the dessert itself.
The man smiled. The lady scowled.
Ana retrieved an enormous slice of coconut cream pie from the glass case. As the unhappy couple walked away, Ana counted the tip under the counter. Forty dollars! That was more than the meal itself. Maybe the ruby had been real.
The forty dollars would bring her total up to $225.32. Still not enough. She would need more for an airline ticket. She sighed. That meant a lot more diner shifts.
Crossing the black-and-white-checkered floor, she reached the empty corner booth and began to pile discarded napkins and dirty silverware onto the plates. Ana had once been a good student. All As and Bs. Even some honors classes. But after her mom got sick, her grades began to drop. After she died, they plummeted. Her friends were now looking at colleges and shopping for prom dresses. Meanwhile, Ana was worried about failing the year and picking up enough shifts to make ends meet. It was crazy to think how much things could change in one year.
The bell on the front door clanged as someone entered the diner.
“We’re closed—” Ana started to say. She stopped short when she looked up and saw a familiar face. It was her brother Ryker.
Ana had three older brothers: Fletcher, Ryker, and Hugh. Fletcher was the youngest. He had just turned eighteen, aged out of the foster system, and taken a job as a mechanic. Ryker was the middle brother and a twenty-year-old college student. Something he felt immensely guilty about. Although Ana and Fletcher insisted he was being stupid, he felt guilty staying in college while they struggled in the foster system and working world. He had been extended a scholarship after their mom’s death that would allow him to complete his degree. Finally, her oldest brother was Hugh, a twenty-six-year-old doctor and the black sheep of the family.
She didn’t expect to see her brothers tonight. But there was Ryker, standing in the doorway. He wasn’t very tall, but his square jaw and broad shoulders made him look strong. His eyes were a warm chocolate brown, just like hers.
She pushed through the waist high door, raced across the floor, and threw herself into his arms.
“Hey sis,” he said with a chuckle. “Miss me?”
“So much,” she murmured, breathing in his familiar smell.
“Me too.” He picked her up and twirled her around like he had since they were little kids. He set her back down with a breath of effort. “Happy birthday!”
She beamed. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here. It’s not even a weekend.”
“Yeah, I did. Campus is only an hour away. No big deal.”
“It is in your clunker,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
“It’s a damn sight better than Fletcher’s!” he said, projecting his voice.
“Hey!” came an indignant shout from the kitchen. Out came her brother Fletcher. “Happy sixteen,” he greeted. He shared Ana and Ryker’s dark hair, but his frame was wiry compared to Ryker’s boxier build.
“Two brothers in one day. Where’s number three?” Ana asked.
Fletcher and Ryker exchanged a glance.
She knew it well. “Not coming, huh?”
“Hugh said he had a rotation in gastroenterology that he couldn’t get out of,” Ryker explained.
“Bullshit,” muttered Fletcher.
Ana was disappointed but not surprised. They didn’t see Hugh much these days. Ryker said it was because he felt too guilty to face them. Fletcher said it was because he was a loser. Ana thought they were both right, in part. If it weren’t for Hugh, Ana and Fletcher never would have gone into the foster system. Luckily for Fletcher, he had aged out after a few months. Ana still had two years left.
Ana hugged her youngest brother. “How did you get off work?”
“Told a coworker I’d do a double if he took second tonight.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged.
Frank appeared from the kitchen with a cake in his hands. The frosting was light pink, and roses and pearls had been piped alongside her name.
“Happy birthday, kiddo,” he said. “Did we surprise you?”
She grinned from ear to ear. “Big-time.”
Fletcher rubbed his hands together. “Let’s light this bad boy. I’m starving.”
Ana rolled her eyes. You could always count on teenage boys to be hungry.
Moments later, all sixteen candles were lit. Ryker dimmed the lights, and the candles glowed in the darkness. Ana could hardly believe she was sixteen. She felt much older. This was her first birthday without her mom. Every holiday was bittersweet now.
Frank and her brothers broke into an awkward chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Ryker and Fletcher shouted as though it were a hearty drinking song. Frank, who had once been in a barbershop quartet, tried his best to harmonize the cacophony.
For a moment, as she looked at their smiling faces washed in candlelight, she felt warm, cozy, and loved.
“Make a wish,” Frank said.
Ana leaned to blow out her candles, but the door swung open. A breeze ripped through the diner and snuffed out the tiny flames. In stepped Ana’s worst nightmare, Deirdre.
2
An Unhappy Birthday
She crossed the room in an instant. Her nostrils flared with anger as well as physical exertion. Deirdre was as thin as the cigarette dangling from her long red fingernails and lazy to her core. She hadn’t worked a day in six years. No, she was a “full-time momma” to “these sweet young’uns,” or so she told Child Services whenever they visited.
In truth, she spent most of her days on her front porch chain-smoking while the kids played in the yard. For dinner, she opened cans. Ones she usually didn’t bother to heat. To her credit, Deirdre didn’t hit. She mostly just ignored.
She and Ana usually got along fine. They had an agreement. Deirdre collected her check, and Ana lived with a roommate near the local community college. Deirdre and Ana only met on days when a caseworker visited. Today, Ana had broken that agreement. She had stood Deirdre up. Ana had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to end well.
Ana hurried forward to intercept her foster mom, hoping to control the fallout. “Oh, hi, Deirdre,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “Why don’t we, uh, talk outside?”
Deirdre reached out and grabbed Ana’s forearm. Her fingernails dug into Ana’s flesh. She pulled Ana to the door with zero regard for their audience. Outside, she rasped, “You little brat. How dare you keep me waitin’? Do you know how hard it was to cover for you? How bad I looked!”
As she spoke, Deirdre waved her free arm in the air. Ana could tell she was working up to a real tirade.
“I’m sorry. I forgot,” she mumbled.
“And you’re failin’? What idiot can’t graduate high school?”
Ana felt inclined to point out that Deirdre’s boyfriend, Dwayne, had failed his GED test just last month. Instead, she said, “I’ll make it up. I swear. Extra credit and summer school if I have to.”
“I have a mind to send you back to Social Services. Get a kid that ain’t so much trouble. I went out of my way to make you happy. You wanted to live on your own. I let you!” She gripped Ana’s forearm so tightly that Ana was sure it would leave a bruise. Deirdre leane
d in, and Ana could smell the Marlboro cigarettes on her breath. “There was always conditions. You knew that. And this shit ain’t a part of our deal.”
Ana started to defend herself, to beg Deirdre for a second chance. But then, she heard a throat clear behind her.
Standing in the diner’s doorway was Ryker. How long had he been there? His eyes were filled with an anger Ana had never seen before, and she knew he had heard every word.
“You,” he spat at Deirdre. “You need to leave. Now.”
Deirdre swiveled to face Ryker, a defiant hand resting on her hip. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she said, pursing her lips. She returned her attention to Ana. “At least not until Ana and I come to an understanding.”
Ryker took a step forward.
The bells on the glass door clanged as Frank joined them. Frank wasn’t a large man, but he had been a New York City police officer long before moving to the South. He was the kind of man who didn’t take any crap. He stared at Deirdre and saw her for everything she was—a lazy coward. The type of person that would take advantage of a kid. His lip curled, and he barked, “Get off my curb, or I’ll call the cops.”
Deirdre licked her lip. “Listen, old man. I was goin’ anyway.” She shot another look at Ana. “This ain’t over. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The three of them watched Deirdre get into her Camaro and speed away.
Ryker turned his steely gaze on Ana. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said shakily. An awkward silence spread between them, and Ana shivered in the warm night air.
“Why don’t we all go inside?” Frank prodded.
Back inside the diner, no one said anything for a moment.
Ryker stared at Ana as if he didn’t know who she was anymore. Finally, he exploded, “God, Ana, the lies! I don’t even know where to begin. You’re living on your own? You’re failing school? Your foster mom—” He paused as though he wasn’t sure he could handle the answer. “Does she hit you?”
Ana clutched Ryker’s arm desperately. “No, Ryker. It’s not like that.”
Seven Crowns (Bellaton Book 1) Page 1