Over the past two months, I've been working diligently on my latest novel, Losing Adam. It is the story of a teenage girl named Isabella (Izzy Sutton), who, as she approaches her eighteenth birthday, decides to end it all.

Ten months earlier, her boyfriend Adam, was shot and killed in a school shooting that rocked the town of Avondale, Georgia to its core. The ramifications of that shooting are still being felt, especially for those who were close to Adam.

But before Izzy can do the unthinkable, a young man named Logan James appears, as if from nowhere, and saves her from making the biggest mistake of her life. With suicide no longer on the table, Izzy is forced to deal with her demons and confront the darkness that has for so long gripped her. Along the way, she learns what it means to forgive, to let go of the past, and to learn to love again.

This is a coming-of-age story, yes, but so much more. If you enjoyed my novel Evergreen, you'll fall in love with this story as well. Below, I have included the first chapter. Keep in mind, this is still a work in progress, so if there are errors, disregard them. My intent is to garner direct feedback from you, my readers.

Thanks in advance for taking the time to read Chapter 1 of Losing Adam, and I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

Don't forget to fly

Izzy Sutton sat anxiously behind the wheel of her '94 Corolla, observing her classmates through a bug-splattered windshield as they hurried across the parking lot ahead of the morning bell. Normally, she would be in the middle of that mass of humanity, a tiny speck in a sea of hormonal teenagers. But not today. Today was different. Today was liberation day.

As the clock struck eight, the bell sounded, and as the last stragglers slipped inside the doors of Greenview High School, disappearing into the labyrinth of narrow hallways, Izzy breathed a sigh of relief. Sinking into her seat, she evaded the watchful eye of officer Norton, who made his final sweep of the lot before heading to the teacher's lounge for his morning cup of coffee. With the first set of hurdles cleared, Izzy took another breath and prepared for phase two of her plan. Still early, it had already it had been the longest day of her life, and although so far things had gone according to plan, she was miles from her objective.

***

The morning of October 4th, 1999 began much the same as any other day. After being jolted awake by the alarm clock at exactly five-thirty, Izzy hit the snooze button, swung her feet to the floor, and lumbered to the shower, where she stood for a long time beneath the scalding water. For as long as she could remember, the healing power of water amazed her. Still, as she stood beneath the cascade, letting it wash over her body, today, she likened it to a stay of execution rather than anything miraculous.

After toweling off and blow-drying her hair, she slipped into a pair of jeans, threw on an oversized sweatshirt, and sat down at the desk to put on her makeup. When she was done applying a thick layer of mascara, she sat quietly for a while, staring back at a girl she no longer recognized. With her eighteenth birthday only two months away, Izzy Sutton was on the verge of adulthood, of crossing that imaginary line that every teenager dreams about. That should have made her happy, but not even her birthday could save her from the darkness that had pervaded every nook and cranny of her life.

Before cutting the light, she put on her sneakers, then tossed the strap of her backpack over her shoulder and left her room, grabbing her keys on the way out. By the time she made it to the kitchen for a bite to eat, her parents were already there, sitting at the table, sipping their morning coffee. In a matter of minutes, they would all go their separate ways—her mother to the elementary school where she was a librarian, her dad to the furniture plant, and she to the high school.

Typically, breakfast was relaxed, a time to take a breather before the day began. But instead of laughter and lighthearted conversation, today it was a solemn affair, at least for Izzy. She grabbed a plate from the cupboard and stacked two pancakes, neither of which she had the intention of eating, then smeared a little butter between them, added a drizzle of syrup, then grabbed a fork from the drawer and sat down. For most of breakfast, she sat quietly, nibbling on a bite of pancake as she listened to her mom and dad drone on about weekend plans. Despite being only feet from them, her mind was a thousand miles away, lost in thoughts too terrible for anyone at that table to comprehend. If they only knew, she kept saying to herself as the dark vortex swirled inside her head. She thought about telling them everything—about how she felt trapped with no way out, how her thoughts had grown darker of late, to the point that she had considered the unthinkable—but she knew that would only lead to more conversation and more visits to the shrink. And if not, at the very least, they'd find the nearest bible and recite scripture to her and try to convince her everything was going to be okay. But it had been nine months, and things were worse than they had ever been. So, she remained silent, keeping all that darkness bottled up inside.

When breakfast was over, she hugged her parents and told them she loved them. She nearly broke down but managed to keep her composure. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. Once her mom had left the driveway, Izzy got in her car and started the engine. Before pulling out, she examined her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing out of the ordinary to the casual observer, but beneath the surface, a war was raging. But by the time she pulled into the senior lot and ground her car to a stop, she had made up her mind. Today was the day. It was now or never.

***

Snapping back to reality, she glanced down at her watch. Ten minutes had passed since the bell, and if she wasn't careful, her window of opportunity would pass. Less than an hour remained before the start of first period, and there was still so much to do.

Before exiting the car, Izzy shut her eyes and did the one thing she swore she'd never do again—pray. Deep down, in a place she hid from everyone, Izzy still clung to a shred of hope that God would intercede on her behalf. She felt that he or she or whatever it was owed it to her, especially after what she had been through. But when another five minutes passed, and her final plea went unanswered, she found a pen and paper and authored the note she'd spent all weekend thinking about. Surprisingly, the words came easy, which was both comforting and terrifying. When she was done, she folded the letter and placed it conspicuously on the console where it could be easily found. Everything she couldn't say out loud was in that letter, and she hoped that whoever read it would try to understand.

After another deep breath, she was ready. This is it, she thought as she stepped out into the cool morning air—Izzy Sutton's Swan Song.

Crossing the lot toward the sports complex, her long strands of wavy brown hair rode the morning breeze and drifted in front of her eyes. Brushing them away, she descended the small hill and found the opening in the fence, then slipped inside the perimeter of the football stadium, pausing when she reached the concession stand. It was Monday, which meant the grounds crew had the day off. The entire place was hers, at least for another forty-five minutes. That's when Mr. Carson's first-period P.E. class would take the field for morning laps.

Beneath the shade of the bleachers, the air was cold, and as a shiver climbed her spine, she felt suddenly nauseous. Finding the bathroom, she locked herself inside and turned on the light. It buzzed to life. Under the fluorescent glow, she vomited in the toilet, flushed it, then turned on the cold water and splashed her face in the sink. Examining herself in the mirror, she looked more dead than alive, her face void of any color.

"Don't do this," she said. "You've come too far to chicken out this time."

When she had composed herself, she exited the bathroom and quickly made her way onto the track, where she noticed, for the first time, how beautiful the morning was. The fog that had covered the area like a thick blanket had dissipated, revealing puffs of white clouds that drifted across an otherwise endless blue sky. To the east, a golden sun topped the trees, warming the air around her. For something so tragic to be taking place on such a beautiful morning was too poignant to be amusing.

Reaching the stairs, she found the rail and let it guide her as she began the ascent. That's when her mind drifted back to the last time she sat in those stands. It had been almost a year earlier on a chilly night in October. She and Adam had attended the homecoming football game to celebrate their six-month anniversary. She recalled sitting with her friends, cheering as the team played their cross-town rival. The dance that followed was nothing short of magical. It was the first time a boy had asked her to go, and it was the first time Adam told her he loved her. Hands down, it was the most fantastic night of her life. But that was another lifetime ago.

She paused and shut her eyes, trying desperately to hold onto any shred of that memory, but it, like life itself, slipped through her fingers. When she opened her eyes, she blinked back the tears then resumed her climb, not stopping until she reached the top. Pausing to catch her breath, she turned and gazed out across the field toward the horizon. She was eye-level with the sun now, squinting as its light began to drive the darkness from the shadows.

Once she had composed herself, she turned back and put her hands on the rail. Swinging her legs over, she found the ledge with her feet. There was just enough room for her size six sneakers to fit. With both hands firmly on the rail, she leaned forward and looked down. The height was dizzying, even for her. If her calculations were correct, a fall from this height would leave little chance for survival. Ever since she'd first contemplated suicide, she extensively researched the height she would need to achieve her objective. Since her parents didn't own a gun and she couldn't fathom slitting her wrists, downing an entire bottle of pills, or hanging herself, jumping seemed to be the most dignified of the available options. Even with something as morbid as her own death, Izzy was thorough and left little to chance.

Of course, Avondale had better places to jump from than the top of the Chester M. Carlson memorial football stadium. The bank, for one, would have been the ideal spot. It was the tallest building in town and happened to be located at the corner of the two busiest streets in Avondale. Even better was the water tower that overlooked the park. But neither of those places held any significance for her. It had to be here. This is where it all began, and this is where it would end.

"You got this," she whispered, giving herself a last-minute pep talk. Her nerves were frazzled, but she tried her best to push any lingering doubt out of her mind. If she was successful, this was the last time she'd have to worry about nerves or indecision or sleepless nights spent crying and begging God for a second chance. Though gruesome, this was a means to an end.

Satisfied with her decision, she raised her eyes to the brick building on the hill. In the beginning, she had been fond of Greenview High School. It was the place where she met her best friend, Olivia Harper, and where her art teacher, a man by the name of Stan Hillard, first discovered her artistic talent. But that was all before the day it happened. Now, the brick monstrosity was nothing more than a constant reminder of her pain and suffering, a symbol of everything wrong with the world, and as tears welled in her eyes, she cursed the day it was built.

Inside the safety of the school, completely oblivious to what was going on just a few hundred yards away, were her teachers, friends, and classmates. And for the first time since concocting this macabre plan, she stopped to consider what they would say when it was all over. She also wondered if by taking her own life, their opinion of her would change. First, she thought of Olivia, the only friend who had not abandoned her. And then there were her teachers, some of whom she adored. Finally, her parents, Glen and Mary. For as brutal as this whole thing had been on Izzy, they had endured alongside her, shedding tears, spending countless nights consoling her when she couldn't stop crying and taking her to counselors and therapists in hopes they could get her on the road to recovery. They loved her more than anything in the world, which is why hurting them was the part of her plan she regretted the most. And although she knew they would be devastated beyond belief, the all-consuming darkness that had metastasized inside her was more powerful than her love for them.

Shaking the last vestiges of doubt away, she dropped her eyes and focused on the ground again. Steady, she told herself. Closing her eyes, her mind settled on him, and for a moment, she was at peace. It was his memory she wanted to carry with her into whatever came next—heaven, hell, eternal darkness, or nothing at all. Either way, he would be there, which, even in death, was better than anything that remained in life.

Once she was ready, the countdown commenced. "Three…two…one…"

"Don't forget to fly," a voice called behind her.

Izzy froze, unsure if what she heard was real or a figment of her imagination. Opening her eyes, she turned slowly and found a young man sitting at the end of the row near the fence. How had she not noticed him? He wasn't sitting there when she made the ascent, she was sure of it, and yet there he was, staring at her as if he was a spectator at a sporting event.

"I—I didn't know anyone else was up here," she said shakily as a chill washed over her. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough," he said, slowly rising to his feet.

Even from that distance, Izzy could see he was tall, perhaps six-one or two. He had on blue jeans and a long-sleeve flannel shirt, and on his head, he wore an old Boston Red Sox ballcap, the lid of which was pulled low over his eyes.

"You weren't actually going to jump, were you?" he asked in a calm voice. "Because that's heavy, and to be honest, I didn't come equipped for heavy today."

She glanced at the ground, then back to him. "I…I…"

While she searched for the words, he took a step in her direction.

"Don't come any closer!" she demanded, finding a voice. "I swear to God I'll jump."

The young man froze like a statue. "I only want to help," he said, the excitement rising in his voice.

She looked away again, and when she did, he resumed his approach, carefully, slowly. His blue eyes, sharp as a hawk, stayed on her like a predator with prey. "If you've made up your mind, then there's nothing I can say or do to change it," he added, inching closer.

When she looked back, she was surprised to find he had narrowed the gap between them.

"Hey, what's that?" he asked, pointing to something behind her.

Reflexively, she turned her head, and when she did, he rushed forward, taking hold of her arm.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, struggling to break free. But it was no use. His grip was like a vice.

They locked eyes, and for a moment, Izzy felt her entire body go numb as if she had been paralyzed. His eyes were the bluest she had ever seen.

"Still want to jump?" he asked calmly, bringing her out of her trance.

She tightened her scowl as she made one last attempt to break away.

"I won't stop you," he said, his voice unwavering. "But if you want to jump, you're going to have to take me with you." He released her arm, but only for a second as he took her hand in his. Then, lifting a leg over the rail, he joined her on the ledge.

"What's wrong with you?" she shouted, staring at him as if he were crazy. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Ready?" he said, casting a glance in her direction. "On three. One, two, three—"

"WAIT!" she cried, reaching back and finding the rail with her free hand. "Wait. Just give me a minute to think." A thousand thoughts swirled inside her brain at once, each more confusing than the last. Despite the urge to jump, she wasn't ready to add murderer to the list of names people would call her after she was gone. Feeling her opportunity slip away, she climbed begrudgingly over the rail and took a seat near the stairs, burying her face in her hands.

"For a minute there, I thought you were actually going to do it," he said, taking up the seat beside her. "I'm not great with math but that must be at least fifty feet."

"Sixty-three," she muttered, her head still in her hands. "Not that anyone's counting." Izzy paused, trying to subdue the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Who are you, anyway?" she asked, turning her gaze upon him.

"I'm Logan," he said, flashing a crooked smile. "Logan James." He offered his hand.

"Izzy…Sutton," she replied, shaking it.

"I assume that's short for Isabella?" he asked.

"Yes," she told him, "but no one calls me that."

"Why? It's such a lovely name. Did you know it means—"

"—God is my oath," she said sarcastically. "I'm aware." She turned her back to him. "Like I said, no one calls me that."

"Fair enough," he replied, careful not to upset her any further. "Izzy it is." He was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm glad to have made your acquaintance, Izzy."

"Why are you here?" she asked angrily.

"You know, most people are a little more appreciative after someone saves their life. Is this how you treat all your friends?"

"Friends?" she scoffed, turning back to him. "I don't even know you…do I?" Studying his face, she found something vaguely familiar about him, and she wondered, albeit briefly if they had met somewhere before.

"I don't think so," he said. He paused and examined her face closely. "No, I'm certain we've never met."

"Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be inside with the others?"

Logan turned and glanced up the hill toward the school. "You're right," he said, taking off the cap and scratching his head. He looked as though he were ready to confess to a murder. "The truth is the first day in a new place makes me nervous. I know it's childish, but I get a little anxious, that's all." He forced a smile, but it was short-lived. "Normally," he continued, running a hand through his hair, then placing the cap back on his head, "the fresh air helps calm me down, but man, did that plan backfire today."

Izzy tried to hide the smile, but it was too late.

"For what it's worth, the smile looks better on you than the frown."

Izzy smiled a little before glancing away.

"Look, I know we didn't get off to the best of starts, but I meant what I said about being friends."

She didn't answer right away, but after a few seconds, said, "I don't think you'd want to be friends with someone like me."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm not deserving of friends, not after what I tried to do." The sadness in her voice was overwhelming.

"Consider it water under the bridge," he said. "Besides, there are only two people who know about what happened this morning, and I'm not saying a word."

She turned and looked at him as a faint smile appeared. "Are you sure we've never met before? There's something very familiar about you."

"I get that a lot," he said. "Gwen says I have one of those faces."

"Gwen?"

"The lady I live with."

"You mean your mom?"

"No," he chuckled. "Gwen is my…guardian."

"Oh," she said, puzzled by the way he said it. As silence descended, her instinct was to ask about his parents, but considering they had just met, she decided against it. "I'm sorry about ruining your first day," she said, breaking the silence.

"Ruin it? Hah. This is the most memorable first day I've ever had."

She shot him a look.

"Think about it, my nerves are gone, I got out of going to homeroom, and I made a friend in the process. All in all, not a bad start to the day." He paused. "Besides," he continued, his voice serious again, "the way I see it, the most important thing is I kept you from making the biggest mistake of your life, so..."

"That's somewhat presumptuous of you," she was quick to say.

"Maybe so, but if you're dead set on spiraling out of control, the day is young." He turned to her and flashed a grin.

"That's morbidly optimistic," she said, smiling back.

"But seriously, Isabella," he said, gazing at the horizon, "is this whole jumping thing behind us or am I going to have to save you again?"

Izzy took a deep breath and exhaled, and although she wouldn't admit it, she felt better now that the whole incident was over. "I think I'm okay, for now," she told him.

"Well, in that case, I probably should be getting to class. And so should you," he said, rising to his feet. He offered his hand, and she took it, so he gave a tug and pulled her to her feet.

"All right, but for the last time, it's Izzy, okay?"

He could tell the joke had run its course, so he agreed not to call her Isabella again.

"Follow me," she said as the bell for first period rang. "I'll lead the way."