Jenna's Book List Novels & Stories

“Thank you.” Jenna’s room could have passed off fine as its own curiosity of cabinets. Different artifacts that I know didn’t belong to this time littered across her room, and the constant theme just so happened to be books and candles. There was at least one book and candle in every corner and if the curtains weren’t open, I would have believed that Jenna’s intentions were anything but pure. “Your taste is quite interesting,” I commented, still looking around.

I thought it would be fine if he knew about this. "My best friend, Alden. He's waiting for me outside, and it doesn't seem to matter if he knows about this. You can trust us." I took his hand and tried to reassure him. But she let go of my grip and laughed. Her expression changed just as quickly as when we first met. "Living in the community is not easy for us Jenna. Especially after the bad weather kept hitting, we had to move around until we reached Cornwall. I don't think the black witches have been here yet. "a

She also had an A-average grade and would pick re-reading Kierra Cass' Selection Series to going to a party any day. In its essence, she had basically the best of both worlds, minus the Hannah Montana hassle. Everyone knew her personality and accepted her. "Yeah," I replied as I rummaged through my bag for my notes. "How hard could it be right? Jane Austen is pretty easy." Right. Tell that to your sore back, you avid procrastinator! "Yeah, if you were from the 19th century," she grunted as she pulled her books from her locker. "No. You just have to understand the concept." I had only understood it after reading someone's essay on it online. And no, I did not plagiarize. That's bad.

Questions burst out before I could stop them. “Who are you? How do you know about Emma? What exactly was she doing? Now she is dead, how can we stop it?” Jenna chuckled, the sound carrying both amusement and sadness. “Young people. So much energy.” Shaking her head, she reached for her veil carefully. The black fabric slipped away, and an elderly woman appeared before me—short white hair, wrinkled skin, and tired eyes that had clearly seen too much suffering. “My name is Jenna Fernandez.”

She never locked it, a habit I’d noticed a while ago. Jenna was lying on her stomach on the bed, reading a book with her glasses on. Her eyes snapped to the door, her forehead creasing into a deep frown the second she saw me. "You forgot to knock, or are you just mannerless?" She sat up, glaring at me. Then her eyes went wide, and she gasped as she scrambled off the bed. "What the fuck happened to you? You look totally fucked up." She should see the other guy. Then she’d know my injuries were nothing compared to his.