Bobby Ether and the Jade Academy
by
R. Scott Boyer
Genre:
YA Fantasy Adventure
“Bobby
Ether and the Jade Academy is a thrilling action-packed adventure you
never want to end.” —IndieReader
4.5 stars
When
Bobby Ether is abducted and brought to the secluded Jade Academy in
Tibet, monks teach him and other special students how to tap into
their Anima—the universal energy that connects all living things.
But
the headmistress of the academy is secretly testing each student,
looking for genetic triggers that can be exploited to create a new
breed of humans born with metaphysical powers and abilities. As his
abilities increase, Bobby is thrust into a cesspool of conspiracy,
lies, and betrayal.
A jade amulet left by his clairvoyant grandfather may provide answers, but what exactly is his family’s connection to this mysterious place? Can Bobby master his talents and uncover the truth in time to avoid the schemes? If not, his fate—and the fate of all the students—may be sealed.
A jade amulet left by his clairvoyant grandfather may provide answers, but what exactly is his family’s connection to this mysterious place? Can Bobby master his talents and uncover the truth in time to avoid the schemes? If not, his fate—and the fate of all the students—may be sealed.
The earthquake that woke Bobby Ether from his nightmare
wasn’t a typical Los Angeles tremor. Growing up in the suburbs of the San
Fernando Valley, Bobby had experienced enough quakes to know most of them
lasted only a few seconds— over by the time you realized they were happening.
Not this one.
The entire room shook as Bobby sat upright in bed and rubbed
his eyes. The windows rattled and the freestanding dresser in the corner
bounced up and down. In a stupor, the long-legged sixteen-year-old stumbled out
of bed and headed for his desk to climb underneath.
Nausea washed over him as the floor heaved. Still reliving
the nightmare from moments before he awoke, Bobby scurried under his desk before
the rumbling finally subsided. Climbing out slowly, he moved to the window,
where a foot-long crack had appeared in the drywall below the sill.
It was almost midnight. The next-door neighbor’s house was
quiet and dark: no lights or alarms. The water in their backyard swimming pool
stood placid.
What the heck?
Bobby brushed locks of wavy blond hair off his forehead,
exposing beads of cold sweat. Racing downstairs, he turned on the television in
the den and flipped through the channels, but there was no news about a quake.
It was only a dream, he told himself. The earthquake, the nightmare, none of it
was real.
The phone rang and Bobby jumped. Wiping his suddenly clammy
hands on his pajamas, he headed across the dining room to the phone in the
kitchen and snatched the receiver off the hook.
“Hello?” he said.
The female voice was cold and mechanical. “Is this Bobby
Ether?”
“Who is this?”
“This is Saint Michelle’s hospital. I’m calling from the
emergency center.”
Bobby felt the blood drain from his face.
“Hello, are you there?” asked the woman from the hospital.
Bobby’s mouth had turned bone dry.
“We need you to come to the hospital right away,” said the
woman. “There’s been an accident.”
The phone slipped from Bobby’s hand, nearly falling to the
floor before he caught it and hauled it back up.
The voice on the other end was still speaking.
“Sir? Are you
still there?”
Bobby closed his eyes as tears pooled once again. In his
mind, he saw the accident exactly as it had been in his nightmare. His parents
were in his father’s SUV, driving home from their Wednesday “date night” dinner
and a movie. As they crossed the intersection at Chapel and La Grange, a truck
on their right ran a red light and crashed into them.
“Was it a man with long hair?” asked Bobby. “In an old
pickup?”
After a long pause, the woman said, “I’m afraid I can’t
discuss other patients’ information.”
It didn’t matter. Bobby already knew the answer. The
longhaired man had been drinking and didn’t react in time to the changing
light. His truck had barreled through the intersection and T-boned his father’s
Explorer just behind the passenger seat occupied by his mother.
The two vehicles had careened off in opposite directions. The
pickup smashed through the window of a nearby delicatessen. The Explorer slid
across oncoming traffic before slamming headfirst into a lamp post.
“You should check on the other driver,” said Bobby flatly.
“He’s hurt pretty bad too.”
“Sir, do you have someone who can bring you here?”
There was another long silence as Bobby shook his head.
“Sir, I can send someone to pick you up. Can you give me your
address, please?”
Without responding, Bobby set the phone down and headed for
his mom’s Prius parked on the street. Grabbing her keys off of the console
table, he flung open the front door and froze.
A woman stood in the doorway, arm extended to knock.
Somewhere in her fifties, she looked like she could have been
a supermodel in her younger years—tall and slender, with high cheekbones and
piercing blue eyes. Dressed all in white, she wore an elegantly tailored dress
suit with a golden silk scarf to match her hair.
Bobby took a step back and the woman stepped forward,
towering over him in four-inch Prada heels. “Just who I was looking for,” she
exclaimed.
Bobby took another involuntary step back, opening space for
the woman to cross the threshold. She did so, closing the door quickly behind
her.
“Hello, Bobby.”
Bobby retreated across the foyer to the base of the stairs.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Are you from the hospital?”
Even as he asked the question, Bobby knew the answer.
He’d only just hung up with the hospital seconds ago.
Besides, he hadn’t given them his address.
The woman scanned the room, seemingly memorizing every detail
of the small but tidy three-bedroom house. Bobby had never been ashamed of his
home before, but something about this woman’s gaze made him wish the house were
nicer.
“Well, this place is . . . cozy,” she said finally.
“Not
quite what I pictured for Jeremiah’s family, but I suppose to each his own.”
The mention of his grandfather caught Bobby by surprise. He
relaxed his grip on the car keys and leaned against the banister, trying to act
casual as he asked, “How do you know my grandfather?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed for a split second, then she
extended her arm. “My name is Cassandra,” she said, offering her hand stiffly,
like a soldier forced to salute. “Your grandfather and I go way back.”
“But how do you—” began Bobby.
Before he finished, his stomach let loose a tremendous growl.
Bobby’s insides turned queasy and his knees buckled. The keys slipped from his
hand and hit the hardwood floor with a clank. Cassandra caught Bobby under the
arms and hoisted him back up before he followed the keys to the ground.
“Well, I can see I got here none too soon,” she said with a
heavy sigh. For an older woman, she was surprisingly strong.
“Come on, let’s get you to the kitchen.”
Bobby lacked the strength to protest. Arms flopping at his
sides, feet dragging, he let her escort him across the dining room to the
narrow kitchen that ran down the left side of the house.
Depositing Bobby unceremoniously at the kitchen table, Cassandra rifled through the refrigerator.
Bobby leaned over
the tabletop, gripping his stomach as he fought to keep down his late-night
snack of Hawaiian pizza and chicken wings.
Cassandra pulled something out of her pocket and stuffed it
into the blender on the Formica countertop. Adding an assortment of vegetables
and juice from the fridge, she ran the machine and poured the contents into a
glass.
“Drink this,” she said, shoving the cup into his hands.
Bobby took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.
“What’s in it?”
“It’ll help you recover from your anima event,” said
Cassandra.
Bobby sniffed and thrust the cup out to arm’s length. It
smelled like cat urine mixed with moldy cheese. “My what-awhat?”
Cassandra pushed the cup toward his face. “Drink!”
Something about her words echoed in his head like a siren’s
song. Before he knew it, he’d drained the contents. Cassandra leaned against
the counter, watching him with a slight smile as he gagged from the aftertaste.
When he could speak, Bobby said, “How did you—”
“I’ll explain later,” said Cassandra. “Right now, we need to
leave.”
Still wobbly but feeling stronger by the second, Bobby rose.
“Right now, I need to get to the hospital.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” said Cassandra.
“It’s the
first place they’ll look.”
Bobby opened his mouth to protest. Then the doorbell rang.
“Just as I feared.” Cassandra pushed Bobby toward the dining
room. “Quickly, go pack a bag! I’ll buy us some time, but you must hurry.”
Bobby walked to the front window and peered through the
blinds. Two men stood on the porch directly below the lamp. One was reed thin,
with oily, slicked-back hair and pockmarked
cheeks. The other was pudgy, with a receding hairline, heavy jowls, and
cruel eyes that reminded Bobby of a hyena. On the curb behind them, men in black uniforms piled out of a line
of black SUVs glimmering under the incandescent street lamps.
“What’s with the rejects from Saturday Night Fever?” asked
Bobby, noting the pastel suits, huge lapels, and bell-bottom pants of the two
men on the porch.
Cassandra swept past Bobby and peeked between the slates.
“Just my luck,” she grumbled. “Bobby, get upstairs and get
your things. I have a plan, but you must hurry.”
Bobby drifted to the staircase and stopped with one hand on
the banister.
Cassandra touched his arm. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll take care
of this.”
He searched her face for a long moment. Then he rushed
upstairs and began to pack.
As Bobby hurriedly threw clothes into his bag, he heard the
front door open and Cassandra’s voice. It was one of the last things he
expected.
“Hello, Simpkins. Hayward,” she said. “What brings you by
this evening?”
“Cassandra! What a surprise,” the man said.
“That much is obvious from the blank look on your face,” said Cassandra. “Be a dear and close your mouth, won’t you,
Hayward? I can feel my hair starting to frizz.”
Cassandra stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
Bobby set down his bag and moved to the top of the stairs.
The voices were muffled, but through the transom window above the front door,
he could make out the speakers’ faces and piece together what they were saying.
“You had best watch your tone,” said Hayward, the fat man
with the cruel eyes.
“And explain what you’re doing here,” said Simpkins, the
skinny one. “Do we have a situation?”
“Relax,” said Cassandra. “The brass just thought it might be
best for me to assist.”
“What are you gonna do?” asked Hayward. “Read the kid a
bedtime story?”
Cassandra’s response sounded well-rehearsed, just like her
answers to Bobby. “This kid has been off the grid until now. Which means you
have no idea what he’s capable of.”
Hayward scoffed. “He’s one lousy kid. I could handle this
entire job by myself.”
“We didn’t receive any instructions about you assisting,”
said Simpkins. “I think it’s best we handle this on our own.”
“You felt the quake, right?” said Cassandra. “Are you sure
you want to be on his bad side if he experiences another anima event?”
Bobby paused. There was that phrase again—anima event.
“We got the hospital report,” said Hayward. “We know exactly
what triggered him.”
“But you don’t know what else might—”
“Enough small talk,” said Simpkins. “Where’s the boy,
Cassandra?”
“He’s inside, but he’s still pretty shaken up. The hospital
called—he knows his dream was real.”
“Then we should go in and comfort him,” Hayward chuckled.
The doorknob jiggled.
Cassandra held her ground. “Remember what happened with the
Thompson kid?” she said coolly. “How was the recovery process? Not too painful,
I hope.”
“Kiss my—” said Hayward. Simpkins cut him off.
“Have it your way, Cassandra,” said Simpkins. “Go back inside
and get the kid. Hayward, get back to the truck and radio this in. Find out why
we weren’t informed that Miss Congeniality here was called in to assist.”
Bobby didn’t wait to hear anymore. Shoving the remaining
clothes he’d pulled out into his bag, he cast a final glance around the room
for anything else worth taking. He paused at an old photo on the corner of his
desk. It was a picture of him, his parents, and his grandfather Jeremiah at the
beach during one of Grandpa’s rare visits. Bobby still remembered that day.
Grandpa had been animated and intense that afternoon, warning Bobby about all
sorts of things that made no sense— cautioning him to keep away from wild
animals and to always carry a flashlight. Bizarre as he was, it had been nice
to see the old man.
Bobby lifted the picture and the corner caught on something.
Pulling harder, he exposed a tarnished silver necklace with a stone pendant
shaped like a flower. He remembered it vaguely, a gift from Grandpa, given to
him the day the photo was taken. Far too feminine for a teenage boy, it had sat
on Bobby’s desk for years, buried beneath piles of comic books and video games.
On impulse, Bobby stuffed both the picture and the pendant into his pocket and
headed for the window. He had one foot over the windowsill when the door creaked open behind him. “I
hope you weren’t planning on leaving without me,” said Cassandra.
Bobby froze, half in, half out of the window. “You lied to
me,” he said. “You know those guys down there. And now you’re going to turn me
over to them.”
“I didn’t lie to you; I lied to them to buy us some time.”
Bobby grimaced. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me about
lying to them?”
“Because I am going to help you escape.”
Bobby swung his other leg out over the sill. “Thanks, but
I’ve got that covered.”
“Suit yourself,” said Cassandra. “But you should know they’ll
see you from the curb.” Bobby shot a quick glance outside. Six men, each
wearing dark military garb, stood by the vans less than fifty feet away.
“Those are Core agents, sent to bring you in,” said
Cassandra. She retreated to the door. “I’m headed out the back. You can either
come with me, or take your chances out the window.”
Bobby balanced on the sill, staring into the distance. “What
the heck is a Core agent? And what’s an anima event?”
The men by the vans broke off into teams. Two of them headed
down either side of the house. At least two more agents remained by the curb.
Cassandra disappeared down the steps. With a sigh, Bobby
climbed back into his bedroom, grabbed his duffle bag, and hurried after her.
On tiptoes, they crept through the house to the back porch,
located off the pantry, beyond the kitchen. Cassandra eased the door open with
Bobby at her hip. The backyard was dark with no lights on except a single bulb
by the garage entrance. Gravel crunched off to their left as the Core agents
crept up the
driveway.
“They’re coming!” Bobby whispered to Cassandra. She held a
finger to her lips and pointed through the darkness to the barely visible
ivy-covered fence bordering the back alley.
From the front of the house, Simpkins shouted, “Hey,
Cassandra! HQ has no info about an assist. Open up now or we’re coming in.”
Bobby started across the lawn, but Cassandra grabbed his shoulder. A few
seconds later, a loud clash of shattered hinges and splintered wood sounded as
the front door was smashed in.
Cassandra threw open the back door. “Go now!” she yelled.
With his duffle bag bouncing on his shoulders, Bobby raced to
the back fence. Encumbered as he was, he got there far ahead of Cassandra, who
struggled with her high heels on the thick grass.
Bobby reached the back gate and stared in horror. A heavy
chain wrapped around the latch, secured by a thick padlock. Behind him, light
flickered in the gap between the garage and the corner of the house as the Core
agents continued up the driveway. No going back for the key.
Bobby raced along the back fence, trampling through the
vegetable garden until he found a spot not covered in ivy. A light flashed in
his direction. A split second later, Simpkins shouted and broke into a sprint
across the lawn.
“Stop! . . . Come back here!”
Bobby tossed his duffle bag over the fence and climbed.
Meanwhile, Cassandra reached the fence and paused at the
gate.
“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Climb!”
Instead, Cassandra grasped the hefty padlock in both hands as
Bobby reached the top of the fence. Dropping to the ground on the far side,
Bobby took a moment to gather his bag. When he straightened up, Cassandra stood
next to him, the gate slightly ajar. She pushed the gate shut, replaced the
chain, and clicked the padlock back into place.
Bobby froze. “Hey, that gate was locked! How did you—?”
Cassandra brushed his question aside with a wave. “No time
for that. We need to leave, now!”
One house down, a white convertible Porsche sat in the middle
of the alley. Cassandra slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Behind them, the back fence rattled as their pursuers reached the wall and
began to climb. Bobby threw his bag in the back of the Porsche and leapt over
the door into his seat. Cassandra winced at the dark smudges his sneakers left
on the leather upholstery. She revved the engine, sending up a deafening roar
as two agents dropped into the alley.
The one in front pulled a pistol. “Stop!” he yelled.
Cassandra slammed the Porsche into gear, rocketing down the
narrow backstreet at breakneck speed. There was a loud crack as a bullet lodged
in the back bumper.
Cassandra tossed her middle finger in the air. “You’ll pay
for that!”
Bobby held his breath until they’d reached the end of the
block and turned the corner. He leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath
as the men disappeared behind him, ditched like a forgotten dream in the dawn
of a new day.
R.
Scott Boyer graduated from the Haas School of Business at UC Berkeley
in 1996. In 2008, he became fascinated with the idea of blending
young adult fantasy with new-age fiction. While maintaining a
full-time job, he couldn't help but envision the kind of book he
wanted to read. This exploration led to the creation of the Bobby
Ether YA fantasy series, which combines spiritual elements with
ancient myths and legends to create fun, fast-paced stories tailored
for young adults but suited for adventure lovers of all
ages.
Through
his writing, Scott likes to explore various spiritual and
metaphysical themes, including karma, serendipity, communion with
nature, and the interconnectedness of all living things. In his free
time, Scott likes to play basketball and tennis, as well as bike with
his rescue dog, Patch. Over the years, Scott has been involved with a
number of volunteer youth organizations, including United In Harmony,
YMCA summer and winter camps, various basketball programs, and
C5LA.
Raised
in Santa Monica, California, Scott still resides in the Los Angeles
area close to his family.
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