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  Bloggers Love True Calling!

  “In a word, WOW!! Talk about a fascinating and magnetic tale!” Tome Tender

  “True Calling is a dystopian-sci-fi-romance that is FABULOUS!” The Caffeinated Booknerd

  “True Calling is an excellent read from YA to adult. The entirety of the story is addicting.” Natural Bri-Pursuits of Life

  “True Calling is story driven with a nice cast of characters. The paranormal twists were an original addition.” Lola’s Reviews

  “True Calling is a sci-fi dystopian fantasy novel filled with everything. A true page turner.” Geeky Bookie

  “I really loved this book! I liked the characters, the writing, the plot, the world-building….all of it.” Mom with a Reading Problem

  “The story line was awesome, and it was hard to put down.” Superbookgirl13

  “I WANT THE NEXT BOOK!” Paradise of Pages

  Table of Contents

  Bloggers Love True Calling!

  Introductory note from the author

  LOVESTRUCK

  A Special Note from the Author

  Beyond Reach Sample

  About the Author

  Books by Siobhan Davis

  Copyright

  Introductory note from the author

  This short story introduces us to Cal Remus in the months leading up to the introduction of e-pageant, ‘The Calling,’ which compels seventeen-year-olds into impending marriage and parenthood. While it can be read before True Calling, I recommend reading it after the first novel to maximize reading enjoyment. Thank you. Happy Reading.

  When the girl of your dreams stares right through you, delivering a look that’s so inconsequential as to betray how insignificant and non-existent you are in her eyes—yet you still love the bones of her—then you know you’re in serious trouble.

  Cal Remus, Personal Journal, 8th January

  I covertly watch her from the corner of my eye. Her toned arm is extended, stretched out fully in front of her, her fingers firmly gripping the handle of the weapon. Her chest slowly rises as she inhales and gradually falls as she simultaneously exhales and pulls the trigger. The bullet whizzes forward and hits the target precisely in the middle: Bulls-eye!

  She turns around, satisfaction clearly evident on her face, and pulls the safety glasses up over her eyes, resting them atop her head as she cautiously flips the gun and hands the empty chamber to the Trainer. Suddenly, her eyes dart in my direction, as if some imaginary voice has called out her name, and she catches me blatantly staring. Her eyes narrow and bore into mine, and then she scowls before quickly turning her back to me. I sigh; her apparent animosity toward me isn’t diminishing. Dejected, I switch my attention back to my own target practice and attempt to dull my pain on the range.

  I don’t see her again until the very last class of the day. Positioning myself a couple of rows behind her, I try to focus on the presentation, but as usual, my head is consumed with thoughts of her.

  If I'm totally honest with myself, I’ll admit that I’ve become a little obsessed.

  I watch as she runs her fingers lightly through her hair before cradling the edge of her face against her palm, her elbow leaning on the arm of the chair. She’s bored. I know all her little gestures and quirks by now—such is the depth of my secret infatuation.

  Inadvertently staring out the window of the second-level lecture hall, I briefly allow myself to become distracted and watch as the late evening sun casts strange shadows on the colorful, voluminous rock formations that dominate the landscape in Region 15, or Militia, as it’s more commonly known.

  There are 15 Regions in total on this planet, though barely a third of them are fully occupied, and the engineers and architects are busy developing the uninhabited areas for the projected population growth. Novo is the name of our new planetary home, nestled in space approximately twelve hundred miles above the surface of the Earth.

  I gaze out the window at the darkening sky, squinting in the fading light. Straining forward, I project my eyes as far as they can see, hoping to catch a glimpse of home, of Earth, though I know that’s outside the realm of possibility. We’ve been told to forget everything about our original homeland and to fully embrace all that this manmade world has to offer.

  Planet Novo was specifically constructed as part of the allied government’s secret plan to ensure the human race survived after a meteor hit almost wiped us out. But only a chosen few were afforded the opportunity of a new life here; those who didn’t pass the stringent assessments and tests were forced to take their chances and remain on a devastated, ravaged Earth. We are shown scant details on our TV screens—a deliberate strategy to keep us shielded from the reality of life back on Earth—so most people go about their business on Novo oblivious to the plight of those survivors who were left behind.

  I know more than most—thanks to my dad’s abject lack of regard for safekeeping the confidential military files that he regularly brings home. I’ve been snooping a lot lately, and some of the things I’ve discovered are totally freaking me out. Not that I’ve shared this knowledge, or my concerns, with anyone yet. I bet I could discuss it with her; I feel confident she would share my sense of outrage and helplessness.

  Smiling to myself, I recall the incident which first made me sit-up and take notice of her—it was about a year after we first moved here. She had engaged in a full-scale, heated debate with Professor Hunter during his Military Strategy class. Specifically, she’d objected—very vocally—to his stance on defensive chemical warfare planning. I’d watched in sheer amazement as she publicly stormed out of the room, clearly aggravated, a look of fierce frustration on her beautiful face. She’d paid no heed to the sea of disbelieving, disapproving faces that glared at her retreating form.

  But straightaway, she attained this type of ethereal, surreal quality, in my eyes, and I was instantly intrigued.

  I fell in love with her suddenly, deeply, in the most all-consuming way.

  Most of the girls I’ve met since moving here have failed to ignite any modicum of enduring interest. Of course, I’ve dated; I’m seventeen years old and as horny as the next guy. But I’m not interested in casual dating anymore: I’m a one-woman man, or at least, I aspire to be. And she’s the only girl who measures up to my exacting standards, the chosen one whom I desire to fulfil that role.

  I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her since that day—Ariana Skyee: captor of my heart. Except she’s completely clueless that I’ve bestowed this honor on her and utterly indifferent to me.

  The bell rings out loud and clear, rousing me from my trance. We’ve come to the end of another long day in NSAFTA. NSAFTA is the Novo Special Armed Forces Training Academy, which is my home-away-from-home for ten hours each day.

  I watch discreetly as Ariana rises and assertively edges her way down the row, moving to join other Cadets as they stream out into the corridor. My eyes drink in the sight of her. Her lustrous brunette locks fall in soft waves down her back. Her body is perfectly showcased in the standard Cadet uniform as the material clings possessively to her fabulous curves, highlighting her taut, toned physique. An intense longing builds inside me, and I fight the urge to propel myself forward and grab her into my arms.

  You wouldn’t believe the things I dream of doing with that girl.

  Her stunning, big, blue eyes flit immediately to me, as if she’s read my mind. Her forehead creases in a slight frown as her gaze lock on mine. Unable to tear my eyes away, I stare brazenly at her instead. My heart quickens, and I have to forcibly restrain myself from winking.

  My normal flirtatious behavior doesn’t work its magic on her; a girl as individual as Ariana is deserves to be treated with the utmost respect, something which has been significantly lacking in my attempted seductio
n techniques thus far. Not that it’s a deliberate ploy on my part, but more that I always get tongue-tied around her and mess it up. Keeping my eyes firmly trained on hers, I shuffle sideways down the row toward her. Perhaps I can finally manage to string more than two sentences together in her presence.

  But luck isn’t on my side again.

  Her best friend Eve joins her and Ariana swiftly diverts her attention away from me, and the moment is lost.

  I wait five minutes and then hurry out of the room, hop in the elevator, and bound down the front steps of the facility. Being tall has its advantages, and I quickly scan the pavement in front of me, easily detecting her receding form in the distance. Though I hasten my pace to catch up, I’m careful to retain a reasonable distance between us, in case she spots me and wonders why I always appear to be on the fringes of her life.

  I spend the short walk to the Velo station imagining how awesome my life would be if I had her by my side and desperately trying to figure out how to turn that dream into a reality.

  As I scan my wrist at the entry gate of the station and descend the stairs, I notice a tall, masculine figure approaching her on the platform. A tremendous surge of irritation rushes through my veins as I identify our fellow Cadet, Ada Kline. I’ve noticed him hovering around her a lot lately, and I fear that I may have some unwelcome competition for her affection. The fact that she seems to readily tolerate his company hasn’t gone unnoticed with me either, though I refuse to accept that it’s anything more than social politeness. However, my mood instantly sours as my subconscious mind ponders the possibility that she may actually entertain romantic feelings for him. If only she’d give me a chance to get to know her, but she typically cuts me dead every time I try.

  I literally bump headfirst into Ben as I’m alighting the Velo in Aqua, en route home. We jostle each other repeatedly, as usual. My shove is more forceful than his, so I have to reach out and grab his shirt to stop him from face-planting the sidewalk. Raising my fist for the standard knuckle touch, I smirk. It helped enormously that Ben—my best friend since forever—was also awarded his travel pass to come to Novo. Adjusting to this new life would have been unbearable without him.

  The change hadn’t been smooth regardless, and we’ve faced our fair share of upset. The authorities erased our memories of those we were compelled to leave behind on Earth, supposedly to make our transition as seamless as possible. Yeah, right. Then they forcibly implanted the Vita chip, so now they can track us wherever we go and monitor our health minute-by-minute.

  I’m still furious at the intrusive way in which the authorities have messed with my body and my mind, and who knows what the side effects and lasting implications will be. But most upsetting of all was the decision they made in relation to our foundation: The authorities have repeatedly denied Ben and I the right to continue it here, much to our utter disgust.

  The foundation we’d set up and run, back home in Philadelphia, to assist and support fellow teens in coming to terms with their homosexuality was inexplicably forbidden on Novo. I’d sought help from my father in appealing that decision to the highest level within our new regime, to no success. Dad, as a senior-ranking military officer, has considerable clout, so he could have helped. However, he’s far too self-obsessed to ever be of any use, or any support, to me.

  My jaw tightens instinctively, and I feel the anger as it starts to emanate within; ebbing and flowing, coaxing and guiding my thoughts along a dangerous, dark path. Thinking of my dad always has this effect on me. I cannot fathom how he ever made a conscious decision to have children. My mother must have cast quite the spell on him—to get him to concede— because someone as supremely selfish and destructive as he is should never have planned a life as a family man.

  “Hey, man,” Ben finally says, rescuing me from my meandering thoughts.

  “Hey.” I’m uncharacteristically quiet.

  He notices. “Let me guess—girl trouble again? Or should I say ‘Ariana’ trouble again?”

  I can only nod my head. I’m sure Ben doesn’t want to hear me going on about it anymore. He’s a great bud, always lending me his ear, but considering his dating predilection is boys, I’m sure he’s fed up of hearing about my ongoing female drama.

  “Hi, Cal,” a high-pitched voice says behind me.

  Oh, sweet Jesus, not now. Turning slowly, I grimace as Madison hurries toward me, the click-click sound of her high-heels grating on my nerves. She grabs my arm at the elbow and smiles up at me, her eyelashes fluttering unnaturally fast. Her relentless pursuit is really starting to wear thin at this stage. We didn’t even date for that long, but she refuses to accept that I have no interest in her, whatsoever.

  “Madison.” I acknowledge her through tight lips.

  “It’s Saturday,” she says—as if I didn’t know—“do you want to catch a movie tonight?” She leans in close, and the smell of her perfume assaults my nostrils. My nose wrinkles. Did she douse herself in it from head to toe?

  Her scent is as overpowering as her personality.

  “I’ve already made plans,” I lie.

  But Madison is tenacious and not easily deterred. “Well, what about after? You could come over to my house?” She says this so innocently, all sweetness and light, but I clearly detect the intention behind her invite. It was one of the reasons why I went off her so rapidly. Any girl that puts out on the first night is not ‘one-woman-for-life’ material, in my opinion. Not to mention that it’s virtually impossible to have any form of intelligent conversation with her. Plus, the discovery of my dad having an illicit affair with her mom put the final nail in the coffin of our ill-conceived relationship. I’d dumped her months ago, but she still follows me around like a little lapdog and she’s really testing my patience to extremes.

  “No, thanks,” I snap, fervently hoping that she gets the message.

  Pursing her lips, in that pouty way that annoying girls do, she flings her hair over her shoulder and twists her head around to glance at Ben. “Ben? What are you up to later? Do you want to come over?” Her tone is definitely suggestive. Ben looks at me comically.

  “Madison, he’s gay,” I tell her, trying—and failing—to mask my impatience.

  “Well, maybe you just haven’t been with the right girl.” She tilts her head to the side.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.” Ben tries to conceal a smirk.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she purrs.

  “Not much,” I mouth. I know it’s not very gentlemanly of me, but I’m way beyond caring at this point.

  Madison glares at me, and I have to resist the urge to howl with laughter. “Well, you’re not my only option. There are plenty of guys who would kill to hang out with me.” She shoots a superior look at me.

  “Gggrreat. Maybe one of them will be happy to oblige your booty-call,” I blurt out. I’m not in good form today, and while I know my comment was vulgar, I’ve zero tolerance for indulging her any longer. Lifting her arm in one swift motion, she strikes my face hard.

  A searing pain lances my cheek as the impact registers on my skin. “We’re done,” I growl, rubbing my angry, red cheek with the palm of my hand.

  “You’re a total jerk, Cal Remus.”

  Breathing out a longed-for sigh of relief, I watch her make a noisy exit.

  Ben bursts out laughing, his body heaving as he convulses. “It’s worth being your friend purely for the sheer entertainment value!” He grins.

  “Glad that the abuse and harassment I have to withstand on a daily basis brings you so much joy.” I step forward, securing the straps of my backpack across my shoulders.

  “It does!” he shrieks, walking in step beside me.

  “Hopefully, that’s one less admirer-slash-stalker I have to deal with.” Dragging my fingers through my messy blond hair, I say a silent prayer that Madison has finally gotten the message.

  “Oh right, because stalking is only okay provided you’re the one that’s doing it?” he teases. r />
  “I engage in subtle stalking. That’s entirely different and perfectly socially acceptable.” Not that I consider my activity regarding Ariana constitutes ‘stalking’ in the real sense of the word. Being in awe of such a perfect specimen, and seeking out every opportunity to study and admire her, is a God-given right in my view. Anything less would be sacrilegious.

  And there’s no harm provided she doesn’t know that I’m doing it. I’m a model of discretion, and excusing the odd lapse—like today—she is blissfully ignorant of my ardent longing for her. Not that I’m happy about the ‘blissful’ or the ‘ignorant’ part; I’d much rather she was aware of my unrequited love, but she consistently refuses to give me the time of day. Sighing loudly, I realize that the only person hurting in all this is me.

  “Man, you have it bad.” Ben startles me from my obsessive inner monologue.

  “Why is it that the one girl I so desperately want is totally oblivious to me?” I glance sideways at him.

  “Maybe you should tone down that infamous ‘Cal Remus’ charm? Ariana strikes me as the type of girl who is attracted to authenticity,” he muses, scrubbing a hand over his chin.

  “And tell me how I can achieve that when she won’t even say ‘hi’ to me?” I pin him with a look.

  “Less teasing,” he suggests.

  “I can’t change my whole personality for her; she has to accept me as I am.” That speaks to the core of my need. I’ve had reason enough to think long and hard on the importance of staying true to myself. I was ten years old when Mom died; only a little kid, but I can still remember how hard she tried to please my dad, and how much of herself she had to sacrifice in order to do that. I’ve made many promises to myself—as I’ve struggled to grow up without her in my life—and the main commitment I’ve stuck resolutely to, is to always be the person I am, and to not compromise on that for anyone, ever.