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THE COLOR OF GRACE
by
LINDA KAGE
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
Whiskey Creek Press
PO Box 51052 Casper, WY 82605-1052
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Copyright Ó 2012 by Linda Kage
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-61160-307-1
Credits
Cover Artist: Harris Channing
Editor: Laura Josephen
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
For Susan Yates, the first editor to take a chance on a new author like me.
Chapter 1
Through the lens of my camera, I zoomed in on the flood of purple and white blanketing Southeast High School’s fan club as they swarmed my home school’s bleachers on the visitors’ side.
Their mascot, a violet dragon, danced and pranced past the Southeast cheerleaders, flipping up the skirt of one girl as he went. She chased him a few steps, swatting him away from her, giggling the whole time. I groaned, cringing as I watched the Barney wannabe wiggle his backside, inviting the cheerleader to spank him for his misdeed. Yeah, yeah. I know. Barney’s a dinosaur and their mascot was a dragon. Big diff.
But, come on. “Who in their right mind has a dragon for a mascot?” I muttered aloud. Honestly.
An arm came around my shoulder and Bridget, my best friend in the entire world, tilted her head sympathetically to rest her temple against mine. “You will…soon.”
Too right she was. The massive pretzel with cheese I’d just gorged down roiled in my stomach; I thought I might toss it back up. I let out another moan and lowered my face. Those would be my people over there, and I didn’t know one of them. They’d be my classmates, and to me, they looked like total morons.
Why, oh why, had my mother married a man from Osage, home of the Southeast Dragons?
Worse yet, one of the last home basketball games my school hosted before I had to become a purple and white dragon just had to be against them.
They were having a good ball season. We were not.
