|Publisher:||Morgan James Publishing|
|Product dimensions:||5.50(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.60(d)|
About the Author
Julia Garcia is one of the youngest and most influential speakers of our generation and she is the Founder of the TRU Non- Profit Organization, Truality.org. Garcia received her B.A in Communications at NYIT where she was also a scholar athlete for the womens soccer team. She will be receiving her PHD in Human Science from Saybrook University.
Read an Excerpt
As she watched her father speed away in the middle of the cold, dark, night she choked on the tears that were building behind her throat.
"Just stop it! Pleease just stop!" She begged her parents.
"Pppleeeease!" Her lower lip quivering and forcing her to mumble between breaths, "ppplease sstop."
Preparing to silence her, her mother quickly raised her right hand. Her body tensed up in panic, but her eyes remained still. They were fixated on her mother's bright, neon pink nail polish that slept like a restless giant on her fake fingernails. She was terrified of her mother's thick, daunting, nails; the way they slashed holes across the face when her anger took over.
Squeezing her eyelids tightly together, the fragile girl waited patiently for the first strike.
"Noo!" her older brother screamed as he fell between the girl and her mother; allowing his face to bleed the repercussions.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Her younger sister now screaming as she tangled her small fingertips around her long, brown, hair and tried to rip a handful of strands from her head, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The sounds from her sister's pain rang straight to the core of her heart, shattering it on the floor like a glass mirror.
"AHHHH." Her sister's cries gradually grew shorter.
Trying to hold on to the empty darkness that surrounded the, now lonely, road she could no longer hear her father's tires as they screeched around the corner in a dire attempt to run away from her. She waited for him to come back; hating herself for believing he would.
Why won't he come back?
The house was silent by the time she finally dragged her heavy heart back inside. Everyone in her mothers household had retreated to their separate bedrooms, leaving the broken girl fed up and alone. Locking her bedroom door behind her, she sought refuge on the floor next to her bed. She cradled her pain in the comfort of her thin arms and squeezed her calves to the back of her thighs. A few more tears slipped past her well-rounded, burning, cheeks while her deep blue eyes caught sight of the light wooded dresser that was sitting beside her.
For the past month she had been using this particular dresser as a secret stash for all of her mother's painkiller pills that she had found hidden throughout the house. She had collected a handful of the pills from old purses hanging in the back of her mother's closet; she knew this was her mother's favorite hiding spot from all of the nights she stayed up late, listening to her fumble in the dark for them. She found a few more dozen Oxycontin in old Aleve and Tylenol bottles hidden in the back of the medicine cabinet. While the rest of the pills, were tucked in the light bulb that hung over the cars in the garage.
Her hands trembled as she removed the white cap from the orange neon bottles. She took in a deep breath and placed the first two pills on her tongue. Gulp.
I want out of this life and far away from all this pain. Gulp.
She continued to chase down handfuls of Codeine and Percocet, while images of her screaming parents were fading in the back of her mind. She hoped the pills would drown out all of her pain too.
I'm tired of all of their mind games and the way they make me feel like everything is my fault. Gulp.
I can't take it anymore. Gulp.
One pill. Five pills. She was losing track.
I just want it all to stop. Gulp.
She continued to dare her mouth to force the pills back behind her throat.
Am I really doing this? Gulp.
Her body slowly began to drool against the foot of her bed, until her back and shoulders found their way onto the middle of the floor. As she pressed her eyelids together, she waited for the poison to seep deep down into her being, completely cleansing her pain. Within minutes, the light inside her began to dim. She was scared.
Shhh everything is going to be ok now. You can finally escape all this pain.
The room was spinning, but her mind remained still ... waiting to stop the screaming, the fighting, all of the pain.
Just go to sleep now, just forget about everything.
All she was hoping for was to forget.
Shhhhhhh,, her mind was now drifting off into a long, and distant, sleep.
She woke up the next morning on the floor, her eyes slowly peeling open as a small ray of sunshine revealed itself from outside of her bedroom window. She was dazed, and felt drunk.
Her plan hadn't worked.
I can never do anything right.
She felt frustrated and cowardly for not having the guts to kill herself.
Maybe next time I'll really go through with it. Maybe then they'll actually care.CHAPTER 2
She is 9 years old and spending the weekend at her father's house. She has developed a habit of following her older brother around and tonight is no exception. Walking by her brother's side into their father's master bedroom, she creeps through the door, and notices the room is crowded with the familiar faces of neighbors and friends of her brother.
So this is where all the big kids hang out.
She finds a seat near the far corner of the bed and is surrounded by pictures of laughing clowns hanging on the wall, their bright, red painted smiles mocking her naivety.
"What are you guys doing?" She asks hesitantly.
"We're playing spin the bottle," someone says, "and whoever is in this room has to play too."
She had never played this game before and had no idea what to do.
"It's easy," they explain "you just sit there and we take turns spinning the bottle. If it lands on you, you have to kiss the person who spun it."
What! Kiss people! But I'm only in the 4th grade; I don't even know if I know how to kiss anyone yet!
"You have to play or we're going to tell your dad that you played with us/were playing/!"
She feared her father thinking she was involved in such a game, and knew he wouldn't believe her if she said she wasn't, so she stayed.
How hard can it really be anyway?
Her palms began to soak the inside of her denim jean pockets as she watched the empty Coca Cola bottle circle around her father's king sized bed where everyone was nervously positioned around. She prayed she could develop some sort of superpower that would make her invisible. She was nervous.
I should have never walked into this room. I gotta get outta here!
During each spin she tried to send beams of heat from the dark pupils in her eyes directly to the bottle, making believe she could control where it landed. Using her head as a steering device she tried to direct the bottle to point towards the person of her choice, anyone but me!
"Ha ha, Megan and Tyler it landed on you!" Everyone cheered.
Phew! Missed me again!
After a few rounds of everyone diving face first into one another, it seemed as though her invisibility superpower was working YES, I might actually get out of here alive!!!
Moments later, the bottles awkward shaped figure pointed directly at her and she knew she could no longer escape her fate. Her nerves started to wear thin. She realized she had not packed enough superpower ammunition to get her through the game.
"Ha ha," she could hear the neighbors' laughter, "looks like it's your turn."
No Way!!! This can't be happening!
Desperately trying to remain calm, to conceal her nerves, she looked around the room and tried to prolong the inevitable but only seemed to draw more attention to herself SHOOT! SHOOT! SHOOT!
"You have to do it," they all continued, "It landed on you, you HAVE TO!" She was told to kiss two people in exchange for one spin.
One of the kisses was with her next door neighbor with whom she had grown up playing cops and robbers. She could taste the inexperience falling from the saliva he left all over her face. Messy and quick, it left her craving mouthwash. She never knew she could feel so dirty.
The other kiss had to be performed in her father's small, enclosed, closet for exactly eighteen seconds with her brother's best friend, who appeared just as uneasy about their predicament as she. His dark brown hair was slicked back on the sides of his head and the gel crusted on top of each particle froze still in time. This was the same guy who farted in front of her on a daily basis, the boy she'd referred to as a big brother for years.
Why are they making me do this!?
Sitting crossed legged on the floor she waited for her disappearing superpower to kick in. To her disappointment it never came. Before she knew it her head was pushed in front of the second boy's face. She quickly closed her eyes and allowed this boy's tongue to force its way between her lips. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed the subtle pleasure of it all.
This kiss is not at all what I thought it would be like; I don't even hate it.
Her brother continued counting, each number signifying her twisted journey to womanhood.
"Nine, ten, eeeeeeeeeeeeleven." his voice seemed to echo on for hours, "eighteeeeeen! Alright man now get away from her!"
In the time it took for her eyes to open, and his skin to pull away from hers, she discovered one of the most powerful weapons a woman possesses. It was much more dangerous than the original superpower she had asked for earlier that evening, to make her disappear; this one taught her how to play with fire. It represented the loss of her child-like innocence. It began of a series of instances where she gave a piece of herself away.
It was her very own self-destructive superpower.CHAPTER 3
1 Tequila, 2 Tequila, 3 Tequila ... Floor
"Look at those girls!" She whispered to her friend while watching a group of Dos Equis XX girls dance on stage at a bar in Rocky Point, Mexico.
"We are waaay cuter," she continued to slur.
It was barely 11am and the bar was already filled with young teenagers whose revealing bathing suits were falling off the tips of their curves. The smell of sweat, margarita salt and the cool summer breeze from the Pacific Ocean, all muddled together as they fought to consume the air. The music was vibrating through the loud black speakers that fell on every corner of the bar, with weekend couples kissing heavily behind and on top of each one.
Both girls had recently turned eighteen and decided to spend the weekend partying. This foreign country, which thrived off young underage naïve tourists, and entertain testosterone filled clientele to reach their monthly profit margins, was their perfect getaway.
"One more," she yelled to the bartender as she slammed a shot of Patron to the back of her throat; throwing a wink towards her girlfriend, "I've got an idea."
After allowing the men around her to pay for their drinks, she maneuvered away from the line of girls who were lying topless on the bar, giggling as men took shots of liquor from between their breasts. Spilt vodka and beer wrestled on the floor, sticking to the bottom of her sandals. She fought through a sea of men who were struggling to grab hold of her waste and pull her closer to their groins. They were hanging on to the illusion that she was drunk enough to dance with them. She was drunk enough, but she refused to settle for just one man's attention. She wanted them all.
Grabbing hold of her wrist, she smiled back to her friend, "Let's go show those Dos Equis XX girls up."
Confidently, her friend nodded in agreement, "A show is exactly what they were going to give them."
As they continued to motion their way through the rowdy crowd of screaming boys and drunken girls she made eye contact with the guy holding the microphone. She carried his gaze all the way to the corner of the room until she was close enough for him to look her up and down, nod in approval, and invite her on stage.
As his hand reached out to grab hers, she felt spilled alcohol on his fingertips; could smell inappropriate fantasies reeking out from behind his eyes. His dark, greasy, hair fell in piles all over the sweat dripping down his face. He leaned over her shoulder and whispered,
A part of her wanted to turn and run, but the courage from the alcohol, coursing through her veins, forced her forward.
Taking one final step on the stage, she allowed the rhythm of the music to take her hips directly in front of the long line of Dos Equis XX girls. She grabbed her friend's hand. Their competitive drive began to shake and sway their hips to the sounds from the cheering crowd. Hundreds of people were now screaming as they raised their Corona's and Sangria's in praise.
As the roars from the crowd grew stronger, the same perverted man with the microphone approached her again. This time he came equipped with a large bottle of tequila. He raised the bottle. As the crowd grew louder in approval, he began pouring the liquor inside of her mouth and all over her chest. Moments later, she felt the cold rush from a water-hose splashing over her body and directly under her mini jean skirt.
The show had begun.
As the crowd grew louder still, she continued to dance provocatively, ignoring the video cameras and picture phones that were capturing her skirt as it rose up her thighs. She continued to drop her hips low to the floor, while her friend dry humped her from behind.
They were the bar's main attraction and she loved every second of it.
Thriving off the men's desires, and the envy pouring from their girlfriends' faces, she no longer cared that she was someone's daughter, sister, or even someone's girlfriend. The undivided attention of strangers was her greatest, most fatal, addiction. She craved the numbing sensation of alcohol, and boisterous cheers, and, similar to many addicts, she didn't care at what cost she would get her fix of attention- even if it were at the expense of her own self-worth.CHAPTER 4
Tearing out the Pages
"Can you tell me why you're here Ms.?"
Ms.? Who do you think you are calling Ms.? I'm only a kid for Gods' sake.
"Eh hm," the judge tried again, "do you know why you are here?"
Refusing to answer his question, she stared blankly at the dull blue carpet below her feet.
"Ok, well, Ms."
Stop calling me Ms! Asshole!
"It says here that we need to decide what team you're going to play on; your father's or um, a Mr. Mozer?"
Thanks for the reminder, but I still don't want to talk to you.
"Sooo," he pressed on, "which team do you want to play for?" She didn't flinch.
An unnerving silence began to fall over the room, almost as casually as the judge's black robe hung over his broad shoulders, "well?"
"I don't care," she finally snapped back.
"You don't care," The Judge sounded confused.
"YA I DON'T CARE!"
She wasn't allowed to care. If she did, someone would get hurt. She wished it was a simple decision but nothing that involved her parents ever was.
"I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE!"
Shaking from the anger that shot through her like a bolt of lightening, she wondered if other kids had to go to court for something as ridiculous as this.
I can't believe I am here.
She felt pathetic.
The truth was, she didn't know anyone whose parents fought publicly, and in court, as much as hers did; especially over whose sports team their child would play on.
"Are you sure you don't care," the Judge asked again.
"I said I don't care. Do whatever you want."
It had become so much more than an activity that she had fun playing after school; sports had become the weapon that her parents used to rip the soul out of one another. She always became their casualty.
She wished she could scream at the judge, don't you see! This has nothing to do with me and what stupid team I play on! This isn't even about me, its about them, it's ALWAYS about them! Its just another way for them to try and show who has control; who can destroy the other more.
"Well it says here that your mother doesn't feel that your father is a good choice for you." The judge read on as if he were telling her something she didn't already know.
Of course my mom feels that way and that's exactly why I can't choose, because either way, someone is going to get hurt.
Finally, after another period of annoyed silence, the judge reached his decision.
Her brother and sister were waiting for her in the family van after she left the Judge's office. Without saying a word, she found a seat by the back window and stared off into the uncertainty of the hot summer sky. It was time for her mother to drive them to their father's office downtown for his weekend visitation.
No one spoke the entire way.
As their silver van pulled into the office driveway, she immediately jumped out and ran into the main buildings sliding front doors. Bolting past the receptionist, she sprinted to her father's office in the back of the building.
"Papa," She let out a long sigh as she threw open the door, "Papa are you in here?" As the empty response flew across the room, and into the pit of her stomach, she suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to vomit.
No. No. No.
He was gone.
Quickly, her fear picked up. She ran toward the back door that led to the employee parking lot.
Her insides dropped.
"Papa! Nooooo, come back!" She screamed after him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Somewhere In Between"
Copyright © 2012 Julia Garcia.
Excerpted by permission of Morgan James Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of ContentsPrologue
CHAPTER ONE: Gulp
CHAPTER TWO: Superpowers
CHAPTER THREE: 1 Tequila, 2 Tequila, 3 Tequila...Floor
Chapter FOUR: Tearing out the Pages
CHAPTER FIVE: Grandfather Clocks
CHAPTER SIX: 911
CHAPTER SEVEN: You Were My Friend, Right?
CHAPTER EIGHT: Permanent Lipstick
CHAPTER NINE: Eager Thieves
CHAPTER TEN: Catfight
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Indefinitely
CHAPTER TWELVE: The Beginning of the End
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Rehab is for Drunks, Addicts & Sissy Lala’s, not so much for Me
Long Island, New York