Okay, so, here's the deal: you may have or may not have read this before, because it was previously on this website. It got removed back in june or july; the reason for that being it was under the process of publication. Well, the book is finally on sale right now! you can buy this book on amazon, barnes and noble's website, or the publish america website! for some reason, the fiction press editor won't allow me to post the links (thanks to all of you at fiction press...jerks ;) ) but if you search for "Love After Death (Remember Me)" or "Bud Jay" you'll probably end up finding it. If you have trouble, IM me on the provided s/n below. If you do enjoy this sample chapter (and there will be more so if your'e not hooked at first, wait a few days and a new sample will be up) please support me by purchasing the book. I'm currently working on special promotions to those that do purchase it, so if you're interested, let me know! my AIM is BudJay2005 (no spammers) so feel free to contact.

Chapter 1

Popularity can bring out the evil in anyone. The power of the sword that popularity brings is unmatched by any other known power in any school across the globe. This is not philosophy, rather a matter of hard fact. The higher social status you have, the more power you gain. However, the blessing of popularity comes with the responsibility of popularity. One would not take a loaded gun and point it at somebody; the same rule applies to popularity. You would not use your status of power to create havoc and misery among those below you.

Rarely do people realize this however.

Even giving somebody a baby push will make that person fall if they’re far enough off the edge of a cliff.

The grasp of understanding popularity was a strong one for Sondra. She was always liked, although she never considered herself popular. She had the beauty of a model, and the mind of a Zen master. Sondra was every guy’s dream, every girl’s best friend, and every teacher’s best student. Sondra never lost sight of what was important, and thus she was never corrupted by the evil power brings upon its people. Remain faithful to all her friends, a simple virtue to live by.

What was different about Sondra were her friends. She had many of them of course. There was never a time where she wasn’t lonely in terms of being greeted or getting a smile or friendly wave of the fingers. What shocked many however was Sondra’s close friendship with a loser.

Sondra never considered him a loser for ten minutes of her entire life. She always felt that Axel was an amazing person. Unconditionally caring, funny, smart, and insightful. However, sometimes the best poker player is dealt a bad hand. When that happens, the player can either fold or play the cards like they were given. Axel always played them like he got them, because Axel knew what folding meant.

But, as expected, there would always be times where Axel felt the sharp pains from the hate he received from the “popular” football players. The ones with the blue varsity jackets, the broad shoulders, and the 0.5 GPA. Stereotyping? Axels ideas probably were. Did Axel care? Not for a moment in his waking hours.

But the pain still comes. Whether a stab comes from the biggest sword or the smallest needle, something is always felt. And Axel knew the feeling. He even wrote a poem about it, but nobody except Sondra ever cared.

Just Another Day

The clashing of swords

The movement of feet

Both blocking blows

Neither will admit defeat

The sound of a sword

Slicing through air

The sound of a heartbeat

The sound of the air

The slice of a sword

Through a man’s heart

The soulless stare

On the victors part

The stain of the blood

On the wooden floor

The heartless stare

The victor bears

The evil grin that forms

He throws down his sword

And walks away

Today is just another day

That was the first poem Axel had ever written, back in 7th grade. A girl walked by his desk and read it. She smiled and commented on the writing. Axel frowned and said that he tried not to rhyme, but he couldn’t help it. The girl said that the rhyming was beautiful, and Axel smiled.

This was how Sondra and Axel met in 7th grade.

But now it was the junior year in high school, and Axel hadn’t changed from his beliefs based on that poem since the day he wrote it. Sondra knew, even now, that trying to talk to Axel out of another one of his depressed moods was impossible. The situation today was when he was walking down the English hallway, a few of the jocks walked by and pushed him into a row of lockers, screaming his branded name out for the whole world to here:

“Move you fucking faggot!”

And another called out:

“Why don’t you kill yourself? Everyone fucking hates you anyway.”

And another:

“Seriously Axel, how hammered was your mom the night she conceived you?”

And another…

Picture a knife entering a pin cushion. That’s how badly Axel was hurt.

That was the eighth time that week it had happened, and it was Friday.

Sondra remained silent when Axel told her all this at first. She didn’t know how to respond. If she did, she would have felt like a hypocrite for suggesting anything.

The ring leader of the entire group, Steve, had just asked Sondra if she wanted to do anything tomorrow night. Maybe go rent a movie. Sondra accepted, feeling guilty for doing so. While it was her life, and she could do what she pleased, she didn’t know how Axel would feel if his friend – his only friend – was going to be going on a date with the leader of all his pain.

So Sondra sat there, speechless.

Axel arched forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “What’s so wrong with me that everyone has to hate me?” He asked Sondra.

One of the fairest questions to ask; with one of the most unfair answers to give.

“People just don’t understand what they do sometimes,” Sondra said, feeling guilty for suggesting that.

Axel looked her, stupefied. “People just don’t understand? It doesn’t click in their minds that pushing somebody into a wall of lockers and calling them a faggot is wrong?”

Sondra frowned. “There are a million reasons for why people do the things they do, Axel. None of them are good reasons.”

Axel was enraged. “Sometimes…I wish, I just wish I could get revenge on these fuckers. Just one day…one day where I could get revenge on everyone who hurt me.”

Sondra touched his shoulder in a sign of warning. “Don’t say that. Don’t let yourself drop to their level.”

“I never asked to be a saint,” Axel said.

“Which is why you are one,” Sondra replied. “As long as you stay righteous, people will eventually see what they’re doing and stop.”

Axel leaned back, bearing a crooked, doubtful face. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Sondra looked away from Axel, sending her gaze towards the ground. “I’m hanging out…with…Steve.” Her words were mumbled and slurred, but Axel understood completely.

“You’ve got to be pulling the cruelest joke I’ve ever heard.”

“Axel….”

“No, Sondra, I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s not like I’m doing this intentionally to you.”

“You know what they put me through,” Axel said, standing up from the bench. “You know the shit I get from them. You were my only support against these assholes. And now you’re going to hang out with them? How would you feel if you were in my place?”

Shitty, Sondra thought.

Axel walked away. He never even looked back at Sondra.

The bell rang, signifying the end of the period, and the end of the day. It was officially the weekend. Sondra had to go home and call Naomi so they could pick out something Sondra could wear for tomorrow night, for Steve.

But Sondra felt like calling it off right then and there.