Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Get Wicked Blog Tour! Book: Wicked Fate By: Tabatha Vargo

Wicked Fate Blog Tour! I am so honored to be a part of it!<3

What if you lived in fear of yourself?

For Mage McPherson being afraid of herself is just the norm. Thanks to that fear, being a loner in a small town never bothered the mysterious Mage. Once she received her secret abilities, she figured being alone was the safest way to be. That all changes during her sophomore year at Summerville High when Adam, her equally mysterious secret crush, starts to notice her.

Afraid that she might harm Adam, Mage must learn to either control or deny herself. With Adam by her side she's more powerful than she’s ever been, but is she powerful enough to defeat her worst nightmare? She learns a hard lesson about love and magic when her destiny comes to collect.


A loud noise from across the gym catches my attention. Searching the crowd, it seems that no one else even notices the strange commotion. I hear it once more before my eyes are directed to the culprit. A now familiar face comes into sight.
With her back against the wall, Bernie covers her face with her hands as three girls stand in front of her and pummel her with a big red kick ball. They laugh when the ball bounces off of her and she lets out a little hissing noise.
“Stop it!” Bernie yells back. “What are you…five?”
“Are you a freak, too? Everyone saw you with the weird girl today at lunch,” I hear one girl say as she bends down to grab the ball.
Word gets around fast…poor Bernie.
“The gym is the best place for you, fat ass!” another girl says with a laugh.
The ball smacks against Bernie’s leg, causing her to fall to one knee.
 Disgusted, I stare helplessly, knowing that this is because of me.  As far as they’re concerned she’s a traitor to the normal people.
Just seeing the backs of the three bullies, I know who they are. I don’t need to see their almost perfect faces. Brandy Phillips, Michelle Sedgwick, and Wendy Baker—The Three Bitchkateers.
All three are fake blondes with tanning bed tans and acrylic nails. I guess they could be considered as pretty—at least on the outside; inside they’re wretched heathens.
I run ideas through my head on how to stop their torment. Before doing anything, I look back up and meet Bernie’s eyes staring back at me with a look of pain on her face.
Please look away!
 No way am I doing anything with her staring at me. It would give everything about me away. Not that it matters if she thinks I’m a freak; everyone else does. I just don’t want to go around flashing to the world that they’re right about me.
Finally, she looks away to block the ball. I take advantage of that moment, and I shoot my vision to the little red kick ball. I follow it as it bounces off of Bernie and back into the hands of her tormentors. I let my anger build until I can almost feel the red hotness of my fury burning behind my eyes. 
Never taking my eyes from the ball, I begin to feel its vibrations inside of me. Every time it bounces from one surface to the other, I feel it; even from across the room.
My anger reaches its limits, and I know that I’m now in control of the ball. With one final bounce off of Bernie, I push and add speed behind the ball. Instead of catching it with her hands, the ball flies directly into Brandy’s face. The sound of the red rubber smashing into her echoes through the gym.

I’m not sure why being around Adam does this to me. Maybe it’s the excitement of him knowing a small part of my secrets. Perhaps it’s the fact that out of the thousands of people at school, he’s the only one that sees me.
But something about him sings to me, and the tune is refreshing.  It gives me an odd desire to know him. It started in the second grade and it’s only gotten worse over the years.
Incapable of looking away, I’m paralyzed. The emerald gates of Oz are open and I’m being allowed a tiny glimpse of a color-filled world.  Finally, he blinks and his intense spell is broken. I take advantage of the relief and quickly look out the window. The sky is bright and blue, a slither of sunlight shines down on us from a hovering white cloud.
 The rain clouds from earlier have suddenly disappeared and I know I’m responsible. The intensity of the warmth I feel being this close to him has transformed the day. What would’ve been a rainy walk home will now be sunny.
I wonder to myself what the hell I’m doing.
I’m not a little, blushing girl. I’m not one of those girls who melt every time an attractive guy talks to them. I’m not a mindless tart who lusts after jerks!
Not saying Adam’s a jerk, but there’s no need for us to start talking now. I don’t want to condemn him to the gates of social hell for being polite to me. If he’s still the sweet little boy from second grade, then he definitely doesn’t deserve what Bernie experienced a few hours ago.
I say nothing as I gather my things and walk away.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know you’re being watched,” he grins as he uses his long legs to push the swing.
“You’re so full of it,” my cheeks heat up.
Thank God I wasn’t doing something totally embarrassing.
“Have I ever told you that I love it when you blush?” he stands and grabs my hand. “Come on.”
He pulls my hand and leads me down the steps.
“Where are we going?”
“Just come on—it’s a surprise.”
I follow him to the side of the house and then further back until we’re almost in my favorite garden.
“Close your eyes,” he runs his fingers softly down my face making me close my eyes.
 I close them and then I allow him to lead me through the garden. I hear the old rusty gate creak as we enter. He sits me down on the old crackled marble bench then he runs his fingers down my face again. It feels amazing.
“Okay, open.”
In front of me, on the old marble table, is a little purple and white cupcake with a single candle in the middle. A single purple balloon floats above the table. Next to the cupcake is a tiny silver box.
“I figured if you hadn’t really celebrated Christmas since your grandmother died, then you probably hadn’t celebrated your birthday either,” he shrugs, like what he’s done really isn’t a big deal.
It’s a gigantic deal to me.
I stare down at the cupcake and think to myself how lucky I am to have such a great friend like Adam—unless of course we’re more than friends? The fact is, I have no idea what this is and I don’t care. I like it.
I decide to show off a little.
I look down at the cupcake and stare hard at the candle. Thinking in my head how bad I want the candle to light, I continue to glare at it. I try my hardest to will it to light…it doesn’t work. Go figure, the one time that I actually want something to happen it doesn’t.

The next day at school, everyone’s talking about the unique weather and how the weather man can’t explain the strange phenomenon. Weather professionals from all over the United States have come to Summerville to be a part of what’s now called “The North Pole of the South.”
They can’t figure out how it’s happening. How in Summerville there’s snow, ice, and fifteen-degree weather. Yet in Charleston, twenty minutes down the road, there’s breeze, sunshine, and seventy-degree weather.
I’m staring into my locker trying to figure out how to make it stop. I hate that I can’t change the weather, that I can’t make this cold lonesome feeling go away. I throw books in and pull books out, and then I feel someone behind me. I know who it is without even looking. His warmth spreads through me and for a minute I feel like nothing’s changed. The feeling quickly disappears when he turns and walks away. I turn around in time to see Adam walk around the corner without looking back.
Gym flies by in a daze; Bernie asks me several times if I’m okay.
“I’m okay. I think I’m getting sick or something,” I shrug.
The quick peek I get of him in the hallway is the only time I see Adam today. He didn’t come to lunch and he doesn’t show up to history either. Even though technically I see him in school most days, I still miss him so much. Somehow, the empty desk next to me makes it worse.
I agree to let Bernie give me a ride home from school. We walk through the parking lot towards her car, stopping every now and again for her to talk to someone. She’s become quite the Social Sally in the last couple of weeks. I think it has something to do with the relationship between her and Kale.
When we get to Bernie’s car, which is parked closest to the trees, I wait as she digs through her book bag searching for her car keys. I can feel Adam’s gaze penetrating my skin. I look over to where his truck is usually parked and he’s there. He’s leaning against the driver’s side, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares back at me. He looks pissed off and mad at the world. Good! Join the crowd, punk!
That’s when I hear it, a loud popping and cracking noise. I turn my head quickly to the noise and I notice that a huge pine tree that’s draped over Bernie’s car is frozen solid. Long sharp icicles hang from it, waiting to drop at any second. One of the large branches looks like it’s about to break off and that branch is covered in the largest and sharpest of the icicles—it’s right above Bernie’s head.
 An icicle breaks off and darts straight towards Bernie’s car crashing into it before I can stop it. I jump back and Bernie screams as she falls onto her back. Before she has a chance to move another sharp icicle heads straight towards her followed by the entire tree branch—it’s the size of a small tree.
I react quickly without a thought for the people surrounding me. I lift my hand to the falling objects; I feel a small sting when the now invisible fire leaves my fingertips. I don’t even feel the fire anymore, not since I started using my magic every day.
The falling objects stop abruptly and sit, floating in mid air for a second or so. I quickly fling my arm towards the woods; the huge tree branch along with four sharp icicles fly into the woods.
 I drop my hand quickly praying that no one saw what I’d done. I’m on the outer edge of a packed parking lot full of people who already think I’m odd. The last thing I need right now is for those exact same people to see me do what I just did.

When I’m doing homework, reading journals, or relaxing in the gardens, I wonder to myself if Adam misses me as much as I miss him.
My answer arrives a few days later. It’s Saturday and, of course, I’m in the library with Thaddeus. I hear a loud knock at the door. There’s a little man at the door with a bouquet of pink camellias and red carnations. It’s a strange looking bouquet.
I sign a delivery confirmation and then I take the flowers. The delivery man also hands me a gift. It’s wrapped in purple and silver wrapping paper. I can tell by looking at it that it’s a book of some sort. I can also tell by the wrapping paper that it’s from Adam. He’s the only person who cared enough at one point to know my favorite color. Anything he’s sent from that point on was either purple or wrapped in purple.
I thank the delivery man and sit on the closest couch in the front living room. I lift the flowers and breathe them in. I feel my heart constrict with the thought that Adam might actually be thinking about me.
I sit the flowers down on the couch beside me and begin to rip at the wrapping paper on the gift. It’s a book, a strange looking old book. The book’s called The Language of Flowers. I flip through a few pages and realize right away the subject content of the book. It’s a listing of different flowers and what they mean. Adam’s trying to communicate with me the only way he knows how without having to worry about breaking his deal with Eris.
I quickly flip through the book to the page with camellias and carnations on it. When I read what’s on the page I clasp the book to my chest and breathe deeply. It feels so good to know what Adam’s really thinking. I look at the page of the book once more.
Camellia (Pink) = Longing for you…
Carnation (Red) = My heart aches for you…

His heart aches for me! He misses me too! My thoughts are going crazy. Should I go to him or should I just take this for what it is and leave it be?
 I wanted nothing more than to run to his house and throw my arms around him. I miss him so much and to know that he misses me too is enough to make me float. I pick up my flowers and hold them to my nose to smell them once more.

About the Author:

Tabatha has been writing since she could pick up a pencil. Her first publication was a little poem in her elementary school paper, from that point on she was hooked. When she was a teenager, she traded in her girly magazines for personalized writing notebooks.

At nineteen, she met her own personal prince charming and writing took a back burner for a while. She is now married to that prince and the mother of a beautiful Six year old princess/rock star. Once her daughter was born, writing came back into her life, and she finished her very first novel in May of 2009.

She is pursuing a Bachelors in English and hopes to one day teach while continuing to write.

As a stay-at-home mom and full-time student, Tabatha enjoys the freedom of spending a good bit of her days doing what she loves the most…writing.

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