Rise of the Moon (Moonlit Series Book 1) by Rachel Hera Page A

father instilled in him since he was a child. Speak with intention. Do not speak without thinking first. “We have one class together. Mechanics. She sits on the other side of the room from me though.”
    “Mechanics?”
    “She’s not very good. But she tries harder than any of the other girls in the class,” he said. “And I admire that. Like I said, she’s just… caught my eye.”
    “And to think, two years ago, Master Shayne had you believing that girls had cooties,” Mr. Smith chuckled to himself. “But, if you will go and take your seats in the dining room, dinner shall be served.”
    “Will you be joining us, Smith?” James asked.
    “You know I can’t,” Mr. Smith replied.
    “Let’s go eat, James,” I said, gesturing with my head to the adjoining room. In the twenty years that Mr. Smith has served us, he had only once eaten at the table alongside us. That one time was when James was eight, and beginning to become more aware of the people around him, but at the same time not care what boundaries were laid down. He still did not care. And I admired my brother for that. But my father had reprimanded Mr. Smith greatly –how, I do not know, but he had never sat down with us again. Not even in this house, which was, in all technicalities, mine and mine alone.
    Still, James continued to ask.
    “Harry was the one that told you about Evelyn, wasn’t he?” James took his seat opposite of me at the square table in the dining room.
    “He saw a picture of her once, over sixty years ago. He was one of the few I entrusted to help me search for her. Somehow, I never thought the day would actually come,” I leaned back in my own chair, looking up at the ceiling. I let out a deep breath. “But I’m so glad it did.”
    “So why are you searching for the old photograph?” he asked, caressing his fork with his index finger. They were selected by my mother, who had always loved the intricate designs on plates and silverware. She had helped select everything inside the house, to be quite honest. My mother had always had better taste than I, and I was not afraid to admit it.
    “I just… Evelyn’s perfect, and I know I can’t expect her to be like herself, pre-reincarnation, but something feels off. Maybe because this all happened so fast –”
    “I wouldn’t say that a hundred and sixty years is ‘fast,’” my brother used finger quotes around the word. “But that’s just a sixteen-year-old’s opinion.”
    I sighed. “A hundred and sixty-six.  But you’re right. But I wasn’t even sure if she would be reincarnated at all. It was just wishful thinking –until Harry found her. Now it feels surreal.”
    “But you’re happy?” James questioned.
    “Of course,” I responded.
    “Then I don’t know what the problem is,” he said, looking to the door as Mr. Smith began to bring dinner into the room.
    The problem was that I did not know what was wrong exactly. Maybe I needed to stop mixing the past with the present. Perhaps I was still unprepared to love anyone other than Evangeline, although Evelyn’s personality was quite endearing. Part of me, admittedly, wanted just to pick things up where we had left them off all those years ago.
    I liked Evelyn. She was pretty; she was sweet; she was intellectual. She had a charisma that I was certain she was unaware of. And she smiled so easily. It was refreshing and calming. But somehow, she felt distant. Conceivably, that could be what felt off. I had to keep reminding myself that I had to make her fall in love with me all over again.
    James was right, though. There was no point in dwelling on it. I was sure things would work out properly in the end.

Chapter 10: Evelyn
     
    I hummed as I put my things away after music. The weather outside was gorgeous, and I was going to convince the girls to eat in the park. Kristy and Chantelle appeared at their lockers, and just as I went to meet up with them, Jason intervened.
    “If I had to guess, The Beatles?” he