Friday, 2 May 2014

Z2 by Sherrie Cronin(46.Ascending #3)


Alex once walked away from a rare ability to warp time, thinking it was only a young man's trick to play basketball better. Now, as a father and teacher, he needs to relearn the skill quickly before the past begins to destroy his own future. To protect his daughter and his most promising student, he must stop the school at which he teaches from turning the clock backwards to an era of white supremacy.

An old high school friend is in desperate need of Alex’s unique gifts to help solve an ancient Maya mystery. As the puzzling artifact offers a rare chance to bridge the past and the future, its story begins to intertwine with the growing tensions at Alex’s school. As both situations take dangerous turns, Alex knows that he must learn to control his temporal talents before he runs out of time.

(z2 is part of 46. Ascending, a collection of loosely interrelated novels about five very different family members who each discover that they can do the extraordinary when circumstances require it. These books are designed to be read as stand alone stories or in any order.)


 
“Dad. I did not flirt with those boys, okay? Ick. They’re wannabe skinheads. Look, I was nice to them when I talked to them, probably nicer than I would have usually been. But that’s just common sense. Who’s going to give you information if you’re rude to them? Come on.”
Alex had to agree that made sense. He got that Teddie was angry at Ms. Johnson’s accusation, but he wondered if she resented being accused of flirting, or resented being accused of flirting with these particular boys. Either way, from Teddie’s point of view she had done nothing wrong.
“Shouldn’t you have told the boys you were asking about their projects on behalf of the school paper?” Alex prodded gently.
“Oh, that would have gotten me a lot of information. Those kids really believe that all school-sponsored activities are part of a liberal propaganda machine, Dad. Seriously paranoid people.”
“Well, you’ve made yourself quite an enemy in Ms. Johnson, dear. I don’t think she’s a fan of mine either, now.”
Teddie winced. It was hard enough being a freshman without always having to worry about how every little thing you did seemed to reflect on your teacher father. It got tiresome.
“You know Dad, I don’t think Ms. Johnson is the kind of friend you want anyway. I hear that she tows the line in front of the administration, but in the classroom when no one is there but students she comes out with some pretty racist things. I mean she always phrases them like discussion questions, so if they get repeated they don’t sound that bad, but her class spends a lot of time talking about things that make some of the kids uncomfortable.”
“Teddie, I think you’re exaggerating. If that were really the case, honey, kids would be speaking up, to their parents, to the department head.”
Teddie had her you-adults-just-do-not-understand expression firmly on her face. “Dad, if a kid reports her then she twists it around like they were just having a class discussion and that this kid is saying stuff because he didn’t do well on a test or something. And that kid can usually kiss a good grade from her goodbye.”
Her dad gave that possibility some thought. “I think the other history teachers would know and be involved if this lady was really crossing a line.”
More of the look. “Dad, you need to get out of the science department more. Word is that most of the Early Gulch history department pretty much agrees with everything Ms. Johnson teaches. The others keep their opinions more to themselves, but they don’t object. The few that do, like Mr. Hanson who left last year, they’re not lasting very long. I think there’s some group or organization out there that has all of the history teachers involved.”
“Now who sounds paranoid?” her dad kidded.
“You know what they say. Doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. I’m sorry I put you on Ms. Johnson’s radar. Be careful, Dad. I think she likes hurting people that don’t agree with her.”


Sherrie Roth grew up in Western Kansas thinking that there was no place in the universe more fascinating than outer space. After her mother vetoed astronaut as a career ambition, she went on to study journalism and physics in hopes of becoming a science writer.
She published her first science fiction short story in 1979 and then waited a lot of tables while she looked for inspiration for the next story. When it finally came, it declared to her that it had to be whole book, nothing less. One night, while digesting this disturbing piece of news, she drank way too many shots of ouzo with her boyfriend. She woke up thirty-one years later demanding to know what was going on.
The boyfriend, who she had apparently long since married, asked her to calm down and explained that in a fit of practicality she had gone back to school and gotten a degree in geophysics and had spent the last 28 years interpreting seismic data in the oil industry. The good news, according to Mr. Cronin, was that she had found it at least mildly entertaining and ridiculously well-paying The bad news was that the two of them had still managed to spend almost all of the money.
Apparently she was now Mrs. Cronin, and the further good news was that they had produced three wonderful children whom they loved dearly, even though to be honest that is where a lot of the money had gone. Even better news was that Mr. Cronin turned out to be a warm-hearted, encouraging sort who was happy to see her awake and ready to write. "It's about time," were his exact words.
Sherrie Cronin discovered that over the ensuing decades Sally Ride had already managed to become the first woman in space and apparently had done a fine job of it. No one, however, had written the book that had been in Sherrie's head for decades. The only problem was, the book informed her sternly that it had now grown into a six book series. Sherrie decided that she better start writing it before it got any longer. She's been wide awake ever since, and writing away.


 

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