Boyfriend From Hell (Falling Angels Saga)

EARLY APPLAUSE FOR
BOYFRIEND FROM HELL

“E. Van Lowe puts a fantastic new spin on the young adult paranormal romance and I for one fell for it hook, line, and sinker.” 
–Shari Bergquist,
My Neurotic Book Affair

“A thrilling suspense/mystery/fantasy book mixed with reality and some romance scenes that will get you hooked up till the end.”  
–
Lalaine Faye,
Lalaine’s Fiction Book Reviews

“I always enjoy a fun paranormal YA read, and
Boyfriend From Hell
by E. Van Lowe certainly came through on both the fun and the paranormal.”
–Nicole Etolen,
Pretty Opinionated

“
Boyfriend From Hell
 was a great surprise. I didn't know what to expect before reading it but it was a fast and fun read that made me laugh more than once. What made
Boyfriend from Hell
 unique to me was the sometimes tongue-in-cheek tone it had. It's a great YA that's also poking fun at some of the predictable Young Adult clichés. If you like paranormal YA but sometimes find yourself rolling your eyes at the way the characters are acting, you'll love this book too.”
–Lisa Choboter,
Cold Moon Violet Books

"E. Van Lowe's fluid and masterful writing made this book one that I needed to finish." 

–Elizabeth Talbott,
Fishmuffins of Doom

“This is the first book in a series and it has me wanting to read more.”
–Jessica Manning,
Book Loving Mommy

For my son, Latif, who is one of the best friends a guy could have.

Never Slow Dance with a Zombie

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9836329-0-0

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011930613

To request permission to reprint any portion of the book, e-mail
[email protected]
and in the subject heading, write the name of the book.

Editor, Christopher Meeks

Book Design, Daniel Will-Harris,
www.will-harris.com

Published by White Whisker Books, Los Angeles, 2011

White Whisker Books

Los Angeles

She was laughing.

That’s what I remember most about that night. It was Saturday. The sun had recently gone down. It was still warm in our old house, but once the sun had finished setting, I knew we’d be slipping into our snuggies. That’s how Januaries are in the desert—hot in the day, freezing at night.

We were seated at the chipped oak dining room table with the mismatched chairs she was so embarrassed for company to see. We were polishing the silver, and my mother was laughing.

We love polishing the silver. It’s a mother-daughter bonding thing we’ve been doing as far back as I can remember. When I was younger we did it in the summer, but since I’d been in high school, we’d been doing it over winter break.  

Ours is an antique set dating back to the early nineteen hundreds that my mother got for a steal at an estate sale when I was seven.  We go to lots of estate sales, and yard sales, and garage sales. Glendale calls itself the antique capital of Arizona. This distinction allows anyone with anything festering in their attic or garage to drag it out onto their lawn on Saturday mornings and try to palm it off as an antique.

Since my mother loves antiques, you can find us on any given Saturday inside some cowboy’s grungy garage, rummaging through his crap, looking for the real deal.  She has an eye for the real stuff, so no one can cheat her out of a bargain. She works for an art dealer. She is also one of my best friends. Well… she was before our lives went to hell in a hand basket. Guess I shouldn’t use that word too freely around here. Hell, I mean.

As we sat polishing away, she casually said, “What would you think of me going on a date?”

“Umm, you mean with a guy?”

“Of course with a guy. A man,” she said, the beginnings of a laugh bubbling out of her. “I don’t have any prospects yet, but I’ve been seeing all these dating sites on TV and thought, why not?” She looked at me trying to read my face.

  It was the first time she had mentioned another man since my father had left ten years ago.

“Yeah, why not?” I said through a thin smile, although what I was feeling was…
why?

“Why not?” she repeated, soft laughter spilling out of her, like there was some new, long awaited happiness to be discovered, and she was brimming with the possibility of what that happiness might be.

Why not?

#

“I can’t believe your mother’s going on a date,” said Erin.

It was Sunday afternoon. The next day. We were seated at the food court in the Glendale mall, digesting my problem along with a double order of curly fries.

“She hasn’t found one yet,” I countered. “She’s just talking about it.”

I swirled a curly fry into the glob of ketchup on my Styrofoam plate. “Hasn’t she read any of those books or articles about single parent dating? Rule number one clearly states:
sneak out behind your kid’s back
. Keep us in the dark as long as possible. It’s a good rule.” I popped the curly fry into my mouth.

“In Suze’s defense, she’s just trying to keep the lines of communication open. If she meets someone, it’s going to affect your life, too.”

All my friends call my mom Suze, never Ms. Barnett. That’s how she likes it. I call her Suze, too, but not to her face, never to her face. I tried that once when I was ten, and if looks could kill, I’d currently be pushing daisies. I think it’s cool having a mom everyone can call by her first name—just not me.

“I know you’re only trying to cheer me up, Erin. But telling me my mother might meet somebody is not going to do it.” I swirled another curly fry.

“Hey, your mom’s kind of hot. I’m sure she’ll find lots of dudes who want to go out with her.” This revelation came from my other best friend, Matt. I’ve known Matt since kindergarten, four years longer than I’ve known Erin. He was tall and slender, with a ready smile and shock of fuzzy red hair. He was also an idiot.

“Matt,” Erin said patiently.  “Megan doesn’t want her mother going on a date. That’s why we’re having this little meeting. Duh?”

“Oh,” said Matt. He looked from Erin to me, letting her words wash over him.

Matt was not the kind of boy you’d normally expect us to be hanging out with. Aside from the fact that he was IQ-challenged, Matt was a card-carrying member of our school’s in-crowd, dubbed The Poplarati. He was on the varsity football team and the track team. Erin and I were on the debate team and the math team. We were card carrying members of our school’s leper colony. Yet ever since Suze and I arrived in Glendale and moved next door to the Dawsons, Matt has always been a part of my life. I can’t recall a memory that doesn’t have him in it. 

“Why don’t you want Suze to go on a date?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? First off, if anyone in my family should be dating, it should be me. I’m fifteen, primo dating age. How’s it going to look if my mother has a boyfriend and I don’t?”

No one answered. The three of us sat in silence, considering my problem.

The mall had recently been remodeled. Several upscale restaurants had been added to the food court, which they now called
the dining terrace
, as if by changing the name people would forget they were at the Glendale mall.  But you could still get a good burger and curly fries, so the change was just fine with me.

“Then why not get your own boyfriend?” Matt said all of a sudden.

That was a no-brainer. “Gee, Matt, let me see. Maybe it’s because it’s social suicide for anyone at school to date a mathlete. And guess what? I’m a mathlete!”

“But you’re cute,” said Matt. Then realizing he’d committed the cardinal sin of complimenting a girl, he looked away awkwardly. “I mean you’ve got the blue eyes, and… the one dimple in your left check, and...” His awkward eyes found Erin. “And you’re cute, too. You’ve got… the thing with your hair.” His voice trailed off as he attempted to be the equal opportunity looks-evaluator.

“Yeah, well, at G.U., geek trumps looks,” I said, disgusted with my situation.

“And that thing with my hair is called bangs, thank you very much!” Erin was equally disgusted, but hers was aimed at Matt.

“Then maybe you should go out with someone on the math team.”

Erin and I stared at him. Matt knew good and well I wasn’t ever going out with anyone on the math team. And it’s not that I’m an elitist or anything like that. I’d just like to go out with a cool, popular guy for once. And if he happens to look like Taylor Lautner, so be it.

The Poplarati have no idea what the rest of us go through. I mean, just because we’re lepers doesn’t mean we’d ever
date
a leper. Those of us who occupy the lower links on the social food chain have standards too—even higher than The Poplarati—because our boyfriends not only have to be cute, but they also need to have an IQ higher than that of a titmouse. Unfortunately at Glendale Union, hitting the Dating Daily Double (looks and intelligence), is a near impossibility.

 “I don’t see what’s the big deal about Suze dating.” Matt was now giving me the stink eye.

“Oh? Would you like to listen to your mother talking about French kissing?” He screwed up his face as the image invaded his thoughts.

“Exactly.”

His expression softened. “But you and Suze are so close. I don’t have that kind of relationship with my mom. I wish I did.”

“Me, too.” Erin was looking at me with the same expression I used on her when I was trying to make her feel guilty about something.

“Come on, guys, she’s my
mother
,” I said with an exasperated sigh. “Can I really tell her that while we’re snuggled up on the sofa watching
Spider Man Three
, I’m secretly undressing James Franco with my eyes? Of course not. These things I keep from her for her own good. And likewise, there are things she should keep from me. I don’t care if she wants to go on a date. I just don’t want to know about it.”