It’s that time of year again. Everyone is going back to school and so is KD McEntire’s Wendy, Eddie and Piotr from Lightbringer and Reaper.
Reaper is set in a world a breath away from our own. After the death of her mother, Wendy is attempting to fill her mother’s shoes and discovering that the prospect is far more difficult than she ever imagined. Learning that she is part of a powerful and ancient family of Reapers that her mother had forsaken is just the first surprise—Wendy soon discovers that the San Francisco Bay Never is filled with political powers and factions both previously unknown and completely mysterious to Wendy. Since both her mother and Piotr are gone, Wendy must struggle to maneuver between the machinations of the dead and the dark intentions of her living Reaper family.
Eventually betrayed and made sick unto death, the clock is ticking before Wendy will fall—she has only a matter of days to unravel the mysteries her mother left behind and to convince her wary family to accept her as one of their own.
Make sure you stick around to the end. We’ll be giving away a copy of Reaper.
The best part about living in Silicon Valley was that it was sunny and seventy almost year-round. Some summers were hotter than others, some winters icier as Canadian storms swept south, but generally the weather was consistently beautiful. It made picking clothing for the first day of school… well, not a breeze, but not as hard as it could have been.
Head deep in her closet, Wendy poked her row of corsets, frowning. School was going to be difficult, she knew, this week especially. Mom was still hospitalized, completely comatose, and the twins were both nervy because Dad, unfortunately, was out of town this week. The big boss had picked a heck of a time to send Dad away. A little parental support wouldn’t have been amiss.
Biting the side of her thumb, Wendy prodded her newest acquisition, a thrifted boutiquey number she’d snagged for three bucks at Salvation Army and a little time with needle and thread. The corset was black velvet brocade with a thin lace trim and heaver black rosettes curling around the waist. The straps were thick and flared wider over her shoulders, hugging the curve from neck to shoulder and covering her upper back. The extra coverage made the find a good school corset, so far as her corsets went, and would only require a light hoodie for when she was in the halls or near particularly picky teachers.
Nodding, Wendy plucked the corset from its hanger and paired it with a pair of comfortably worn blue jeans, the front nearly white from use, the material buttery soft to the touch. Boots and socks, check. Comfy underthings, check. Hoodie, check.
As Wendy was digging under her bed, seeking out a battered backpack, her cell beeped. Hardly anyone knew she had this number so it could only be one person. Wendy shoved out from beneath her dust ruffle, grinning. Snagging the phone she flipped it open and put it to her ear.
“It sucks so much. Mom makes us pancakes and eggs and bacon and sausage and then she drives us to school on the first day and now the twins are all jittery because she’s not going to be there. They’re not saying that’s why they’re snapping each other’s heads off but that’s totally why,” she said and then, as an afterthought, added, “Hey, Eds.”
Her best friend since forever chuckled, deep and throaty. Wendy heard the click of keys in the background and realized that Eddie must be working while talking to her. The clicking paused as Eddie took a sip, coughed gently away from the phone, and said, “I was actually going to drive you guys this year so you don’t have to take the bus. Your dad called Mom and asked if she was cool with it. Well, he asked me first and then checked it by Mom.”
“Glad he’s thinking of someone else for once,” Wendy muttered but there was no rancor in it. Her dad’d always been busy. It didn’t mean he didn’t care, just that his high-paying job came with high-stress travel. It was the status-quo for their life. Mom had always been the center, the calm within the storm. But with Mom in the hospital… Wendy knelt back down and peered under her bed again. No backpack anywhere.
Mom would’ve known where to find it.
“Sooo,” Eddie said, dropping his voice, “how’s that whole boogidah-boogidah thing going?”
“What?” Wendy said, half-paying attention and irritated that her backpack wasn’t magically appearing. “I don’t… oh. You mean ghosts.”
“Shhh!” Eddie hissed. “Not so lo- wait. Why am I trying to keep you quiet? You’re the one with the super secret identity.” Typing resumed over the phone line.
Wendy glanced at Jabber, her mother’s dead Persian, purring up a storm under her bed. His tail flicked through a cardboard box of old sneakers, phasing easily through the cardboard as if it weren’t there. Which, for Jabber the ghostly kitty, it wasn’t.
“It’s not like I’m Batman, Eds. Sending ghosts into the Light doesn’t affect anyone but the dead. You don’t have to protect the innocent on my account.” Wendy let the dust ruffle flop, hiding Jabber, and sat cross-legged on the floor. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Wendy LOVED the day before school started. You picked out your clothes. You got to pack your bag – new erasers, new spirals, new pens and pencils. If you were one of the many, many rich kids in the area you might even show up in a new car or toting a shiny laptop. The start of school was a cavalcade of stuff and while Wendy couldn’t go toe-to-toe with the popular parade’s Prada she could creep others out with the best of them. Wendy thoughtfully tugged one of her bright, carrot-coppery curls. “Hey, Eddie, you wanna help me dye my hair this afternoon? All the black’s worn out and despite my best efforts I’m still not an auburn-haired goddess.”
He chuckled. “Still rocking the carrot top, huh? Sure, Elvira, I’m down. I was blond all summer. I miss being the man in black.”
“Grey, you mean,” Wendy snickered. “I keep telling you not to buy that cheap dye.”
“Silver. It looks distinguished.” Wendy heard the unmistakable sound of his computer powering down. “I’m on my way over.”
Wendy thought of the twins downstairs – Jon dribbling the basketball listlessly in the back corner of the yard, and Chel lounging on the couch painting her toenails and brooding over reruns of last year’s cheer finals. Some chick on Chel’s team had tripped during a simple roundoff and fallen flat on her face at Nationals. The girl was blackballed from the team but her oopsie had Chel at cheer camp all summer instead of just during most of it.
“Why don’t we bring the twins?” she suggested. “I bet they’d like to get out.”
“Feeling generous, huh?” Eddie’s voice mostly vanished for a second as she dimly heard him tell his mom he was going out. He returned, slightly winded as he thumped his way down his stairs. “Think they’ll even wanna come?”
“Michelle turn down a chance to shop? Not a chance.” Wendy threw a pair of yoga pants and an old Marvel tee on the bed with one hand and then yanked her hair back in a messy ponytail. “See you soon.”
The twins, she figured, would jump at the chance to go shopping. But first – no one had eaten yet today, if you didn’t count Jon’s constant snacking. It was time for a quick lunch. Eggs and bacon should do it.
The acrid smoke billowed out of the pan, filling the kitchen like a dark, angry mist. It hadn’t set off the fire alarm yet but it was only a matter of time at this point. Wendy coughed and swept her hand through the air, trying to clear enough of a path to the back door. She’d dump the grease in the metal garbage cans at the side of the house -if she could make it that far.
On cue the fire alarm started to bleat. Dad hadn’t changed the batteries in years so the insistent wail Wendy’d been expecting was more like an annoying bleat.
“What the hell, Wendy?” demanded Chel, coughing and waving an arm theatrically from the kitchen entrance. “Are you getting paid to burn the house down or are you just a really experienced amateur?”
“Shut the mouth, Blondie,” Wendy snapped. “Help or get out. Unless you want to lose all your peroxide in the blaze.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chel hurried to the back door and pointedly held it open as Wendy maneuvered the pan out into the yard and around the side of the house. Jon, mouth agape, dropped the basketball and hurried over.
“What happened?” he demanded, as if it weren’t obvious. “Did you ruin the good pans?”
“’Geeze, Wendy,’” Wendy mimicked his voice savagely, furiously kicking the can twice until the metal lid, which had never fit quite right, fell off. She dipped the black mess into the empty, rusted interior with a feeling of mingled relief and dismay. “’Thanks so much for cooking us lunch today! We were hungry but too lazy to get off our asses and actually do something about it and you tried to save us the trouble. What a kind and thoughtful older sister you are!’”
“Is that what this is?” Chel asked, joining them at the can to eyeball the rubbery eggs and blackened bacon sitting forlornly at the bottom of the can. “I don’t hate PB&J that much.”
“I can cook, Wendy,” Jon said reproachfully. “If you were hungry I could’ve whipped up one heck of an omle-“
“Mom cooks, Jon!” Wendy snapped sharply and immediately regretted her tone. She sighed and rubbed one grease-splattered wrist across her chin. “Mom… Mom always cooks us breakfast the first day of school.”
“You were practicing.” Chel’s voice was flat, unaffected, as blank as her expression. “You’re worried about tomorrow, Wendy?”
“What’s there to be worried about?” Wendy said with a shrug. “It’s school. You go to class, you do your homework, you-“ she petered out. Unlike her younger siblings, Wendy didn’t have much of a school life. Chel had the rah-rahs in the cheer squad, Jon had a pretty good circle of friends and his various geeky little clubs. Wendy had Eddie and a bunch of dead guys.
It really wasn’t all that fair, actually.
“-you do stuff,” she finished lamely.
Jon sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She’ll wake up, Wendy. She has to.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Chel said. “But that doesn’t mean… well, no matter what, it’d be nice if she did. Either way, you don’t need to take her place. ” She grimaced. “Any word from Dad?”
Wendy shrugged. “He’ll be home in a few weeks.” She toed the can. “The raccoons are going to be all over this tonight.”
“Mmm, burned bacon,” Eddie said, poking his head over the edge of the fence. “Smells like… well, I’d say home but Mom doesn’t let pork in the house.”
“Wendy’s freaking out about tomorrow morning,” Chel said, dodging the sharp jab Wendy aimed at her ribs. “So she tried to burn the house down.”
“Well, how about I treat you all to food court awfulness instead? Wendy and I were headed to the mall and she wanted to haul you two along.”
Jon and Chel agreed like Wendy knew they would. As they locked up and left, she tried not to worry overmuch. School would take care of itself, it always did, Mom or no Mom.
The next morning Wendy awoke to the heavenly smell of buttered toast and coffee. She rolled over and poked her alarm clock. There was still a half hour before it would go off. Chel’s room beside her was silent. The bathroom was still. Had Jon gotten up early? Was Dad home?
Slowly, groggily, Wendy rubbed her eyes and climbed out of bed, wandering downstairs in bare feet, the too-long hem of her favorite Hello Kitty pajamas pooling around her ankles.
Eddie stood in front of the stove, inexpertly flipping pancakes on the griddle. A large pile of toast perched on a plate next to him, slathered with the good butter. Their spare house key sat on the counter beside the butter knife.
“The trick to bacon and sausages,” Eddie said without saying hello, “is to bake ‘em in the oven. Stovetop bacon is too fussy. Oven-bacon takes more time, yeah, but it comes out just frickin’ fantastic.”
It did smell amazing. Blearily, Wendy slid onto the stool at the counter and poked at the bowl of fresh-cut fruit salad Eddie must have brought with him. She didn’t remember buying kiwi during her last trip to the Safeway.
“I thought your mom didn’t let pork in the house?” Wendy popped a section of orange into her mouth as Eddie cracked the oven and eyeballed the sizzling bacon neatly arranged on Jon’s favorite cookie sheets. Rounds of sausage were gently baking beneath them, fragrant grease pooling in the corners of their pan.
“Yes, but heathen, lapsed cousins are an entirely different ball of wax.” Wielding a pair of tongs, Jon plucked free a piece of bacon, blew on it, and offered it to Wendy.
She took the bacon, broke off a bite, and popped it in her mouth. It melted, the perfect combination of crunchy and soft, the fat flavoring the entire piece. Wendy closed her eyes and sighed. It tasted just like the bacon Mom made.
Eddie wrapped his arms around her briefly, letting Wendy rest her cheek on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured into his shoulder. Eddie had turned what ought to have been a terrible, stressful morning into something wonderful.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing her back, “what else are best friends for?”
“Daddy, I don’t want to go to school,” Eddie protested feebly as his dad gently towed him toward Stevenson Elementary. In theory he was supposed to be going to Theuerkauf but his mom wanted him to go to Stevenson, so to Stevenson he went. They were practically next door to each other so it didn’t matter that much, but since Eddie didn’t want to attend either, they were both equally horrifying.
“Eddie, nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.” His dad knelt down and wrapped his arms around Eddie, embracing him so tightly that the air in Eddie’s lungs whooshed out. His mom always complained that she hated those hugs, that she couldn’t breathe, but these were Eddie’s favorite kind of hugs. As Dad’s arms relaxed, Eddie inhaled the unique aroma of his dad, the mingled Irish Spring and Old Spice, the spicy cinnamon mints he kept in his pockets, the minty scent of his toothpaste.
“Daddy, I know how to read, I can add, I know my colors, I can even tie my shoes!” Eddie was very proud of this last one. It had taken him weeks to get the knots just so. “I don’t know why I have to go to school! I want to stay home with you!”
His dad ruffled his hair. “Eddie, Daddy works from home. If you stayed home with me I’d have to teach you and I’m not qualified to do that. Your dear old dad has to do his job and now you, Eddie, have to do yours. Your job is filling that noggin of yours with all the smarts you can, okay?” He tapped Eddie’s head, then smoothed down Eddie’s springy blond cowlick. “Everything you know is a good start but I know you can do so, so much more.”
Eddie, swallowing deeply, nodded. His dad brought him in for another hug and, over his shoulder, he saw a pretty red-haired lady walk past on the sidewalk. She was leading a short, curly haired girl whose hair wasn’t so much red, but flaming copper. It glinted in the sunlight. It shone.
The girl stomped along, inexplicably wearing bright pink rain boots over black tights and a sleeveless green dress. She had a bright orange band wrapped around her left wrist and a black and pink Hello Kitty backpack dangled by the upper strap from her hand. At the crosswalk her mother tried to grab her hand but the girl shook her off and waited until the light turned. Only then did she grab her mom’s hand to cross.
Dad felt Eddie still and glanced in the direction Eddie was looking. “Maybe she’ll be a new friend, huh?”
“Girls are gross,” Eddie said, but it was half-hearted. Something about the sturdy, compact girl made him want to grin. She didn’t look scared. She looked… angry. Eddie could get behind angry. Angry he understood.
His dad stood up and they moved on, following the two red-heads all the way to Stevenson. The lady guided her daughter through the front doors and all the way to the kindergarten classroom. There were two kindergarten classes and Eddie realized that he wanted the red-haired girl to be in his. He had a moment of intense panic. He didn’t want to be in class alone, knowing no one, no Daddy, no Mom, and he’d latched on to the idea that if this girl, this angry girl with the pink rainboots, was in his class, then everything might turn out okay.
Whatever god in charge of listening to scared little boys was on the ball – Eddie heaved a sigh of relief as the red-haired pair entered the door he himself was supposed to enter. Class A.
“Looks like you’re in luck, kiddo,” his dad said, watching Eddie’s eyes follow the little girl.
“Do I have to go in, Daddy?” But this time the question was a little less frantic, a little more cautious.
“Sorry, buddy, you do.” His father leaned down and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “Your teacher said we can get you settled in your seats today only. Do you want that?”
Eddie nodded absently and his dad took him by the shoulders, moving him to a desk with Eddie’s name already marked on the desktop. “Here we are. Edward Barry, behind Aaron Barr and in front of Jason Bastion. Hmm, I wonder if that’s Eric Basion’s kid?”
As he sat down, his father’s hand heavy and warm on his shoulder, Eddie heard behind him, “You can make it to your own seat, Wendy. You’re a big girl now. You can read your name.” Even though he didn’t turn Eddie instinctively knew it was the red-haired girl’s mom.
“Wendy. Mommy has to get back and take care of the twins. They’re little, they need someone to watch over them.”
“Daddy’s home. Can’t he-“
“Daddy’s got to go to work, Wendy. Don’t fret, honey, we’ll be back at eleven-thirty to pick you up. We’ll walk all the way to the park and if the ice-cream man’s there, I’ll even buy you a cone if you’re a good girl and don’t fuss.”
Her voice dropped. “Just to my desk, Momma? Please?”
The mom sighed. “This is for your own good, honey. You can do this, Wendy. I love you. Be good, baby. You’ve got this.”
Defeated, the girl sighed, a mirror of her mother. “Okay, Mommy. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. I’m proud of you.” There was a brief moment of quiet that Eddie felt strange for listening to, and then the tap-tap of retreating footsteps.
“I need to go too, buddy,” Eddie’s dad said. Eddie realized that his dad had been patiently waiting, watching Eddie listen in, but he hadn’t stopped him or scolded him.
“Yeah, Eddie?” His dad knelt down, meeting Eddie’s gaze, eye to eye.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too, Eddie. Just remember, even if I’m not here beside you, I’m always carrying you with me. Right here.” His dad touched his chest and Eddie was surprised to see that his dad’s eyes were wet, his smile shaky. “I love you, kiddo. Your mom will be here at eleven-thirty, though if she isn’t here right away don’t panic, okay? She might be…” He hesitated and Eddie took pity on his dad.
“It’s okay, Daddy. I know Mom likes her stories.”
Then, surprisingly, just behind Eddie a small piping voice said, “If she’s not here I’ll stay with him. My mommy will probably be late too. She’s got to bring the twins everywhere and they slow everything down.” There was no anger in that sentence, just a sort of weary resignation.
Eddie’s dad grinned. “I don’t know if your mom will appreciate holding up the show for Eddie here.” He held out his hand. “I’m Eddie’s dad, Mr. Barry.”
The little girl took his hand and shook it solemnly. “I’m Wendy Darling.”
His dad’s lips twitched. “What a nice name. Wendy, it looks like your seat is right here, next to Eddie. Behind, let’s see, Mike Collins and before, um, Sarah Ellis. Very alphabetical room this is.”
Wendy smiled and Eddie giggled. His dad was good at being silly when he wanted to be. Then his dad stood and ruffled Eddie’s hair. “Be good, kid. I’ll see you at dinner. I love you.”
“I love you too, Daddy.” When his dad left, Eddie barely noticed. Wendy had settled down beside him in her chair.
“I can tie my shoes,” Eddie offered. Wendy nodded thoughtfully.
“I can braid hair,” she countered. Then, if that wasn’t quite enough, added, “My mom let me wear whatever I wanted today.” She lifted a foot and wiggled her rain boot. “My feet are sweaty.”
Eddie nodded, impressed. “My mom dressed me.”
They went on like that until the room had filled, parents dropping their kids off one by one. Some stayed, like Eddie’s dad, to make sure their kids were in their seats. Others left quickly, like Wendy’s mom, and more than a few of them were sniffling as they left.
When the parents had left the teacher clapped her hands loudly and introduced herself. She explained the rules, several times, and before Eddie knew it, half the morning had flown by and they were led in a duckling row first to the bathroom and water fountain and then to recess.
Jason Bastion, as it turned out, was a bully. He was tall and thick, and had several inches on every other kid in the class. He’d also, for some inexplicable reason, taken an instant dislike to Eddie. No matter what Eddie did on the playground, Jason would follow him there and, after a few moments, shove Eddie aside and take over. He even waited until Eddie was swinging to sneak up behind him and shove hard, hard enough that Eddie, unprepared for the push, slid off the seat and fit the ground hard, skinning his knees and the palms of his hands.
Eddie, unused to violence or pain, cried out and clutched his hands to his chest. He looked for Mrs. Donnovan, the teacher, but she was on a corner of the playground, talking with another teacher. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She looked annoyed.
Jason never saw Wendy coming. He was about to climb triumphantly on his swing when Wendy tackled him around the waist and took him down to the hard packed dirt. Jason yelped and tried to roll onto his stomach but Wendy was having none of that – she sat on his lower back and spit in her hand, a great, nasty loogie with a lot of phlegm.
Then she smashed the loogie in his ear and smeared the excess across his cheek and forehead. Jason yelled, began to cry, but Wendy wouldn’t get up until he cried ‘Uncle! UNCLE!’
“Tell Eddie you’re sorry,” she demanded and cleared her throat noisily. “Or you’ll get another one.”
“I’M SORRY, EDDIE!” Jason screamed. “I’M SORRY!”
Mrs. Donnovan was coming at a run. Wendy casually hopped to her feet and dusted off her hands. “Don’t pick on people,” she told Jason. “You never know who’s watching.” Then she walked over to Eddie and grabbed him by the elbows, hauling him to his feet. “You okay? You need the nurse?”
“You’re gonna get sent to the principal’s office,” Eddie whispered, horrified. “For fighting.”
Wendy shrugged. “He was picking on you. You don’t pick on my friends.”
Friends. Eddie felt his heart stutter-skip in his chest. She was covered in sweat and dirt, her hair hung over her cheeks in sweaty tangles, and her hose was ripped, her skirt torn at the hem. Only her pink rainboots looked fresh and new; Wendy spied him looking at her and gave Eddie a quizzical look.
“What’s up, Eds?”
Eddie smiled and shrugged. Their teacher was nearly upon them, yelling for the other teacher to get the nurse as Jason hammed it up on the ground at their feet, rolling around and screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Why?” Eddie asked simply. “No one’s ever been my friend before. Why would you do that for me?”
Wendy grinned. “What else are friends for?”
“I don’t think I can do this, Papa,” Piotr said, his voice shaking. Behind them his uncle snorted but Piotr’s father was kind and guided the bow around so it was pointing at the woven-willow target propped against the tree. Piotr’s arms were already beginning to tire; the arrow trembled.
“Do not think of it as a man, Piotr,” his father suggested, dropping down into a loose, easy crouch beside him as he waved at the far away figure. “It is not. It is nothing but willow branches and leaves, yes?”
“But it could be a man,” Piotr argued. “It could be… another hunter in the forest. Or a soldier. Or… anyone. Papa, must I do this?” He ignored the muttering of his uncle and looked at his father beseechingly. “Why can’t I stay at home with Momma and the girls? They’re weaving today. I’d like to learn to weave.”
“One day you will, but not today. Of all the things I teach you, Piotr, this is one of the most important. All my children, you and all of your sisters, must learn how to fire a bow and arrow, how to dress and kill a beast. You could survive on our garden and foraging for a short time but a man must have meat to thrive and I will not always be alive to do the hunting for us.” A shadow crossed over his face and his hand hovered momentarily over his gut. Behind him, Piotr’s uncle grew still and silent. A pall hung over the clearing for a moment and then a bird cried loudly nearby.
“Gull,” Piotr identified easily. He excelled at this part of his education; thanks to his mother no creature that wandered the forest or swam in the river was a mystery to him. No plant could trick him with its poison, and no helpful root could hide from his prying, inquisitive eyes. “Come up the river for fish and to rest.”
“Good,” his father praised him, ruffling Piotr’s heavy mop of black hair. “Now imagine that your mother and sisters are starving. Would you shoot the gull to feed them or let it fly away?”
“A gull is different than a man, Papa,” Piotr pointed out, looking reproachfully at the willow-branch man. He let the bow droop, wincing at the way his muscles protested their long tension. “And besides, a gull might be fat but it doesn’t tip over in a sharp wind.”
His father puffed out a sigh and then laughed, a great, bellowing peal of amusement that sent a quiet hush through the nearby woods, sending animals scurrying for cover. “He’s got a point there.”
Piotr’s uncle slapped the tree behind them. “You asked for a target. I wove you a target. How was I supposed to know he’d be so… so…” he stopped, frowning at the expression on Piotr’s father’s face. “Fine, fine,” he muttered. “I’ll go strip some more branches and make a boar. Will that suit the little king?”
“Oh, hush, you were doing nothing else today,” Piotr’s father said easily, shooing his brother off with a playful wave of his hand. When his uncle was gone Piotr began to breathe easier. He liked his uncle and cousin well enough but he never got enough moments alone with his father.
“Until he returns, Piotr, humor us both and at least practice sighting.” His father wrapped arms around Piotr and guided the bow back toward the branch-man. Piotr automatically tensed but his father’s steady breathing against his cheek eventually calmed him.
Piotr’s hands steadied.
“Good,” his father whispered in his ear. “Keep both eyes open. Feel the wind, feel it moving around the bow, feel the way it ebbs and flows. The wind can be your enemy and your friend, Piotr. All you have to do is listen.”
So they listened. Together they fell into a soft puddle of quiet, letting the forest shimmer around them, shafts of glittering sunlight falling to the forest floor, the chittering sounds of small animals nearby foraging for food, the rustle of the leaves in the trees. Piotr paused a moment to enjoy the dissipated heat bathing his cheeks. It was cooler here, under the forest canopy, and quiet. Autumn would be here soon, and then winter. With winter would come the ice and all the plants and animals were leaving signs that this winter was going to be long and harsh and colder than normal. Unless he was reading the signs wrong, Piotr knew that reeling fish would be slim, even through the ice. Just then Piotr belatedly realized why his father was so insistent that he learn this particular skill now.
Anything could happen when the snow was piled high.
Without thought, without fear, Piotr opened his eyes and let the arrow fly.
Meet KD McEntire!
K. D. McEntire is a mom and animal lover currently living just outside of Kansas City with her husband, sons, and two cats. K. D. spends her minuscule free time reading, writing, and battling her Sims 3 addiction. She loves Wil Wheaton, Stephen King, Joss Whedon, gaming, comic books, and all things geeky.
Social Media: Facebook | Twitter
Want to purchase KD McEntire’s novels?
- Lightbringer at Amazon | Book Depository
- Reaper at Amazon | Book Depository
Thank you KD for taking part in Literary Escapism’s School’s in!
KD is giving away a copy of Reaper. To enter, all you have to do is answer this one question: Who were you more like in school? Wendy, Eddie or Piotr? Remember, you must answer the question in order to be entered. US/CA Only!
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I wasn’t really like any of them but I wasn’t crazy about school so I’ll go with Eddie.
Oh wow!!!! What an awesome post! I’m very much sucked in now :) I think that I was more like the younger Wendy in Edie’s story. I was a tomboy and I didn’t hesitate to hurl myself into what the boys were doing ;)
I guess I was a little like Piotr but I was most like Wendy and kind of still am…still a tomboy
The closest would be Eddie. I remember beign pretty perky in the morning.
I guess I’m the most like Wendy, although I have some characteristics in common with all three characters.
The person that comes the closest is probably Eddie.
Thanks for the giveaway!
Hmm, I was probably most like Piotr – really good at book learning, but not necessarily wanting to apply it to real life.
I believe i was more of an Eddie.. thanks for the giveaway!
Out of the three I think I was most like Wendy.