The following is an exerpt of my work-in-progress. It is a YA novel entitled PULL.
Please do not reproduce this without my permission, and also, please don’t steal it and pass it off as your own.
Because that would be lame. And also illegal.
*IMPORTANT* While I LOVE general comments on my writing, please don’t leave me suggestions as to how I should revise it. Thanks!
–taken from PULL, Chapter 6–
Just as I opened my mouth to ask another question, Albert’s gaze flew to something over my shoulder. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he sucked in a quick breath.
“What?” I started to turn around, but he stopped me with a firm hand on my arm.
“Don’t move. Keep your head down.”
Heart pumping, I did as he said. The noise of the pub seemed to grow louder as I focused on a crack in the wooden table, desperate to know what was behind me. Nobody else seemed to be panicking. Why was Albert?
He moved his hand from my forearm to my fingers, squeezing them to get my attention. I shifted my eyes from the table to his downturned face; his jaw clenched as he fought to keep calm.
“When I tell you to move,” he breathed, “I want you to follow me straight back to the loo. And whatever you do, don’t look behind you. Okay?”
A few more seconds passed. The blood rushing in my ears almost drowned out the cacophony of voices around us. Just when I thought I couldn’t take the suspense anymore, Albert squeezed my fingers again.
We rose silently from our chairs and, with Albert in the lead, slunk the short distance to the back of the pub. Taking my hand, he pulled me into the men’s restroom and into a stall, locking the door behind us.
Then he lifted the collar of his t-shirt up to his mouth and muttered a string of hurried words into it.
“Hare and Billet. Now. One of them just came in. We’re in the men’s loo, but I doubt it’ll hold him off for long.”
“Hold who off? What are you doing?”
He gave me an apologetic look. “I need you to sit on my lap.”
Without providing an explanation, he closed the toilet lid, sat on it, and gestured at his thighs. “Quickly. Please.”
“Um, don’t you think that’s a little–“
The bathroom door opened with a squeal. Albert’s eyes ignited with urgency and I leapt onto his lap, my knees tucked underneath me so my feet wouldn’t show beneath the stall door. He clutched me to his chest and I could feel his heartbeat against my shoulder.
Heavy boots clomped across the floor and stopped outside the stall. Mud and grass clung to the black leather; the scent of earth, usually comforting, now made me sick with fear.
But another smell stung my nostrils, too. Something I’d smelled before…
The man who attacked me on the heath.