First Chapters - The Truth About Chance Dabney (Chapter 1) by Shay Spencer

Hello everyone and welcome to my blog! For the ENTIRE month of December, we'll be seeing content like this from both myself, and from the Featured Authors (going all the way back to the beginning!). Along with each of us sharing first chapters from our novels (all on, or soon to be on, Wattpad!), we'll also be getting an inside look into everyone's writing process, book reviews, and even better - getting to know the contestants trying for Featured Author of The Year 2019! Stick around for the fun!

But what do we have here today, you ask? As most of you know, I've been working on a new southern Teen Fiction - but, because I would love everyone's reaction - I'm sharing the first two chapters on my blog along with the Featured Author's Get Together!

I hope you all enjoy chapter 1 - chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow!

Also posted today: State of Art by Caroline, Winter Has Come by Ana, and He promised Me Forever and Always by Tyra!

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© Shay Spencer. All rights reserved.

The Truth About Chance Dabney

Chapter 1

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They say it’s how we react to tragedy - how we’re able to cope with the loss of someone who was once so important to us - that proves our true character. As if it’s those moments of utter crippling depression that show what kind of person you are, or rather that of who you’ll one day become.

At the end of the day, that just sounds like a load of crap.

Since day one, I had learned to never get too attached to anything or anyone. My mother left when I was barely eleven years old, and my father wanted nothing more than to keep his high ranking in the military. Both parents proved to be a more of a danger to themselves than to others. Though neither myself nor my older brother ever expected announcing to our small town of Beaufort, South Carolina that our father had died of a heart attack, rather than in his actions to save the students during a shooting at our local high school.

In the fall of our father and resident town hero, we had been told to take the days following his death in stride; Almost like it would be easier to put on one of those sappy country songs he loved at the funeral after the twenty-one gun salute and slap on a smile.

I hadn’t been born in the south, but my father and older brother had both lived and breathed that southern air since their first breath. As much as it pained my northern heart to say it, I needed to understand why he loved this small town so much before I took off for college next fall.

“They left the shitty banner up there.” Kyle’s red nose wrinkled up as his blue eyes darted back and forth between the oncoming traffic and the self proclaimed shitty banner. His sun-beaten skin was glowing red from our lengthy summer working on our grandparents long forgotten boat house, and from those many hours he had spent floundering around out in the murky water near the docs. Even now, in his pressed white collared shirt and blue board shorts, he smelt far too much like a fish out of water.

Wrinkling my own nose up at Kyle’s rank body odor, I turned my own attention to the banner hanging up above the green doors leading into the high school.

The thing had been torn and tattered in just about every way possible, and the rain from both April and late July had nearly washed the words from the flimsy piece of plastic. I was positive the school had spent a fortune (both in time and money) putting together the tribute to Charles Attaway, ‘town hero’. It was as if our father’s messy past had been washed away along with the fancy script on the banner the second he returned home and helped save nearly every student in the shooting last January. The only portion of the banner that you could make out now was the picture of our father; Dressed up in his military suit, adorned with his medal of valor and holding up the key to the city. Looking at that particular photo, you never would have guessed that Kyle’s mother would have to pull the plug on the man’s life support in the days following that photo-opt.

“I know you’re not on council or anythin’, but can’t you get someone to take that thing down?” I frowned, keeping my mouth shut. I didn’t want to swear on something I couldn’t deliver. The school would leave that banner hanging until it quite literally fell down on it’s own, and even then I was certain they’d want to put it back up. At this point, it was futile to fight it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I finally said.

Kyle’s small white rusted slug bug came to a halt along the path leading up to the main doors. The sound of the engine shutting off could be heard for miles, but Kyle wasn’t about to get rid of the thing. It seemed the only thing he and dad had in common towards the end was fixing up this clunker of a car. I was positive Kyle would be driving his wife around in it, hauling his future kids to and from school with it. This stupid car was all he had left of dad.

My own clunker of a car that dad had left behind was hidden in the boat house until I was ready for it, so I understood.

“You going to get out of the car at some point?” A wicked smile slid it’s way onto Kyle’s beat red face. I had warned him to put on sunscreen, but half the time it seemed his pride got in the way of his well-being. Even his brown hair had been bleached a dirty blond with how long he’d been outside the last five months. Now he was just going to have to walk around looking like a stop sign. I just hoped his girlfriend would have something to say to him about it. I’d feel bad if I was the only one calling attention to it.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

The air was muggy and far too humid for my liking as I stepped out of the bug, and from the looks of it, the weather wasn’t changing any time soon. Rain or shine, Beaufort had proved to be far closer to a summer year-round type climate than I had ever known back in Oregon.

“Don’t stay too late,” Kyle called after me. I couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down my spine as I watched him drive away.

In this particular light, with my brother of nearly twenty one driving our dad’s old bug, he was more of a spitting image of our father than I’d ever seen.

I adjusted my top to the best that I could manage before taking those few long strides up to the front doors of Beaufort High. We all knew I wasn’t about to be voted homecoming queen or anything, especially with my un-ironed, and sleeveless no less, white button-up and partially purple hair, but I knew the least I could do would be to look half decent on the first day back to school.

The doors squealed as I strode inside, that being one of the more fond memories I’d had of this place over the last three years, but never once did my entrance ever draw as many eyes as my walk in today had.

Speaking for the few people milling around the hallway, it seemed I was of the more interesting topics at hand. I could hear murmurs with every step I took, all ranging from a Charles Attaway name-drop to a snide comment about what I’d done to my hair since junior year cut out around early June. Not that it mattered much to me what they considered fashionable, but I couldn’t help the blush that fluttered about my previously stark white cheeks as I ducked my head in an attempt to stay unnoticed by the crowd. With every awkward step I took into the creaky old building, it seemed the more eyes I drew. I couldn’t walk more than a foot without hearing the murmurs and gentle whispers being cast my way, though some people were more polite about it than others. I had always known people had talked about me behind my back at this school, but even I had to admit, this was out of hand.

I reached up, pushing my rather long black bangs behind my ears as I came face to face with our resident school psychologist. She was rather young to be embarking on the mystery that was the teenage psychic, but she was a nice woman nonetheless.

At least, that’s what Kyle had told me about her.

“Sawyer,” she greeted. The stunning blonde Texan beauty queen rose to her feet upon my arrival at the check-in desk. Though papers were scattered around the table every way to Tuesday, she looked more calm than I could have imagined. Casually, she flipped her golden curls over her shoulder, her lack of hair uncovering the utterly revealing maroon top she had chosen for work today. The silk tank took a very noticeable dive towards her ample cleavage, and though I tried my hardest to ignore it, it seemed she had opted not to wear a bra. It was now that I was able to grasp how this particular teaching assistant from Auburn had caught Kyle’s eye before he’d dropped out of college. “Kyle told me you were starting your senior year today.”

I plastered on a smile, feeling as though I was having a complete out of body experience as she gently took hold of my hand. It was all I could do in the moment not to toss in a comment about the outfit she’d picked out for her first day of work. I wouldn’t have been surprised if about half the football team admitted to having some sort of mental disorder or feigned family troubles just to get a second of her time.

“He refused to let me join you two for dinner this past weekend,” I cooed, turning my attention to the check in forms when she dropped my hand.

Her graceful laughter was all that could be heard throughout the hallway. “It was our six-month. Hardly a time to get to know his lovely younger sister. But today’s as perfect as any, ain’t it? You’re as gorgeous as your mother, Sawyer! Kyle and I ran into her in Auburn a month ago. Melissa was an absolute delight.”

“Melissa is Kyle’s mother.” I had to work my hardest to get the words out through my gritted teeth. “Our father got around a bit before I came along.”

“Oh dear,” she said, holding a hand over her chest. “I’m so sorry, Sawyer. I just assumed-”

“It’s not a problem, Katherine,” I shook my hand in a dismissive manner. “We got that all the time through school.” This time, and this time only, our school psychologist kept her mouth shut. I couldn’t help but to reminisce about the nearly three hour Skype sessions she and Kyle would get into between trips back to Auburn over the summer.

I took a seat in one of the two fold-out chairs lining the front of her desk, quietly filling out what was absolutely required of me to get back into school. It seemed as though these particular forms were more suited for those who were over the age of 18. At any given moment, I was needing a signature from my guardian, and low and behold, Kyle was nowhere to be found.

That little bastard was off fishing for all the hell I knew.

“Would it be okay if I took some of these home with me? Kyle had to get to work,” I offered.

Katherine waved her hand just as I had earlier, “not a problem dear. You’d be surprise how many parents have yet to sign these silly forms. Bring it to my office tomorrow morning.” Without wasting time in more idle chit-chat, she spun to the left and plucked a single file folder from the stack. “Your class schedule, community service requirements, a few college brochures, and a form to fill out if you’ll be needing financial aid in further schooling. I’m going to be doing all I can to help those of you seniors get into the best colleges this free nation has to offer.”

I ignored my better judgement and gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you, Katherine.”

She nodded happily, “now run along! I’m hearing buzz about some new and very handsome boy who’s just happened to pluck Beaufort from the masses. I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

Despite the small and amazingly irrelevant amount of gossip I had overheard during my five minutes back at school, I took her knowledge and ran with it. From what I had gathered over my few years of schooling in Beaufort, not many families relocated to this particular town; if they did, they either had family here, or they were seemingly obsessed with the movie, Forest Gump. It was almost a relief to hear a portion of the rumors bustling about would be centered around the new class hottie, rather than how the girl with the dead father spent her summer.

Begrudgingly, I stood up on my own two feet once again and took just enough steps to create space between myself and the check-in desk. I leaned back against the wall opposite the front door as I turned the corner, nestling myself between the oncoming line of lockers and the water fountains that I swore hadn’t been cleaned in upwards of a year. Ignoring the gag that followed the thought, I turned my attention to the slim file folder in my hands. My short investigation gave me the knowledge I needed - I would be in advanced math first period.

The bell shook away the daze that followed my further reading into a particular college brochure, instead turning my attention to more important matters: getting to class. I made quick work of the walk up the stairs after waving once more to my new almost-sister-in-law slash guidance counselor, and found myself with the pick of the litter when it came to my seating choices for this semester. Though our school was small, a little under five-hundred students, each class was even more compact. Beaufort High took the student to teacher ratio very serious, and thus became our small sized classes of no more than twelve to fifteen.

As I tossed my all too empty bag onto the scuffed tiled floor, the remainder of the students filed into the large room. Seeing as each table sat two people, the other members of my class naturally began to pair off. I took my seat in the back corner of the room and kept my head low before pulling an empty notebook and pen from my bag. Silently, I willed the others that walked into the room to leave me be. Within the span of a minute, the ten or so members of my class were happily seated, each pair scattered across the room, before the bell signaled the end of passing period.

I relaxed into my seat as the worry of having to make small talk with a near stranger washed away, pulling my notebook closer to the edge of the desk and writing down the date in the upper right hand corner of the page. I didn’t look up when the teacher, Mr David, introduced himself upon walking into the room, and even still I closed my gaze in on my paper to the point that I neglected to notice the chair beside me when it screeched across the floor towards the wall; It was only the gruff landing of his ass hitting the chair that caught my attention. For the first time during my three years at Beaufort, someone was choosing to sit beside the girl with the purple hair.

“Introductions aside, let’s get going with attendance before announcements,” Mr David was right on schedule as per usual, but I wasn’t right along with him. “Sawyer.” The word itself stuck out like a sore thumb, and after scanning over the room, our lovely teacher marked me as present without me having to lift a finger.

Mr David flew through the names, nearly all being at the head of the alphabet, before he stopped dead in his tracks. The look of confusion written across his face was one that I hadn’t encountered with him in the past. For a man that was usually so sure of himself, Mr David nearly looked as though he had made a mistake, or rather like he had seen a ghost. “Chance Dabney.”

The name bounced from wall to wall, and I was certain the classrooms next to ours had been just as daunted by the utterance as we had. The halls were usually littered with students still milling about, and with this being the first time since I’d arrived, the hallway was silent. The very name no one had dared to mention in nearly three years was the one and only reasoning for every person in a mile radius to stop dead in their tracks, each one dropping whatever they were doing. It seemed the only thing more shocking was the fact that Chance Dabney was hardly a senior in high school, seeing as he was nearly 19 by now.

The boy next to me shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, and with little to no warning, let the simple word, “here”, dart out of his perfect mouth. Before I could stop myself my eyes darted in his direction, and with no surprises left in this world, my eyes met those of Chance Dabney’s for the first time since spring of my freshman year.

A small smile tugged at the ends of his mouth in recognition, “hey, Attie.” It seemed the purple hair didn’t make that big of a difference when it came to him.

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There we have it! Tomorrow we'll see the second chapter coming from Hayden following his official explosion from UPenn. If you guys are liking this version, remember to check out the book where it all started - Something Real (Old Version), and keep in mind that this story will be posted to Wattpad in January 2019!

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