Bobby Ether and the Jade Academy by R. Scott Boyer Book Tour and Giveaway :)
Bobby
Ether and the Jade Academy
by
R. Scott Boyer
Genre:
YA Fantasy Adventure
“Bobby
Ether and the Jade Academy is a thrilling action-packed adventure you
never want to end.” —IndieReader
4.5 stars
When
Bobby Ether is abducted and brought to the secluded Jade Academy in
Tibet, monks teach him and other special students how to tap into
their Anima—the universal energy that connects all living things.
But
the headmistress of the academy is secretly testing each student,
looking for genetic triggers that can be exploited to create a new
breed of humans born with metaphysical powers and abilities. As his
abilities increase, Bobby is thrust into a cesspool of conspiracy,
lies, and betrayal. A jade amulet left by his clairvoyant grandfather
may provide answers, but what exactly is his family’s connection to
this mysterious place? Can Bobby master his talents and uncover the
truth in time to avoid the schemes? If not, his fate—and the fate
of all the students—may be sealed.
The earthquake that woke Bobby Ether
from his nightmare wasn’t a typical Los Angeles tremor. Growing up
in the suburbs of the San Fernando Valley, Bobby had experienced
enough quakes to know most of them lasted only a few seconds— over
by the time you realized they were happening. Not this one. The entire room shook as Bobby sat
upright in bed and rubbed his eyes. The windows rattled and the
freestanding dresser in the corner bounced up and down. In a stupor,
the long-legged sixteen-year-old stumbled out of bed and headed for
his desk to climb underneath. Nausea washed over him as the floor
heaved. Still reliving the nightmare from moments before he awoke,
Bobby scurried under his desk before the rumbling finally subsided.
Climbing out slowly, he moved to the window, where a foot-long crack
had appeared in the drywall below the sill. It was almost midnight. The next-door
neighbor’s house was quiet and dark: no lights or alarms. The water
in their backyard swimming pool stood placid. What the heck? Bobby brushed locks of wavy blond hair
off his forehead, exposing beads of cold sweat. Racing downstairs, he
turned on the television in the den and flipped through the channels,
but there was no news about a quake. It was only a dream, he told
himself. The earthquake, the nightmare, none of it was real. The phone rang and Bobby jumped. Wiping
his suddenly clammy hands on his pajamas, he headed across the dining
room to the phone in the kitchen and snatched the receiver off the
hook. “Hello?” he said. The female voice was cold and
mechanical. “Is this Bobby Ether?” “Who is this?” “This is Saint Michelle’s hospital.
I’m calling from the emergency center.” Bobby felt the blood drain from his
face. “Hello, are you there?” asked the
woman from the hospital. Bobby’s mouth had turned bone dry. “We need you to come to the hospital
right away,” said the woman. “There’s been an accident.” The phone slipped from Bobby’s hand,
nearly falling to the floor before he caught it and hauled it back
up. The voice on the other end was still
speaking. “Sir? Are you still there?” Bobby closed his eyes as tears pooled
once again. In his mind, he saw the accident exactly as it had been
in his nightmare. His parents were in his father’s SUV, driving
home from their Wednesday “date night” dinner and a movie. As
they crossed the intersection at Chapel and La Grange, a truck on
their right ran a red light and crashed into them. “Was it a man with long hair?”
asked Bobby. “In an old pickup?” After a long pause, the woman said,
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients’ information.” It didn’t matter. Bobby already knew
the answer. The longhaired man had been drinking and didn’t react
in time to the changing light. His truck had barreled through the
intersection and T-boned his father’s Explorer just behind the
passenger seat occupied by his mother. The two vehicles had careened off in
opposite directions. The pickup smashed through the window of a
nearby delicatessen. The Explorer slid across oncoming traffic before
slamming headfirst into a lamp post. “You should check on the other
driver,” said Bobby flatly. “He’s hurt pretty bad too.” “Sir, do you have someone who can
bring you here?” There was another long silence as Bobby
shook his head. “Sir, I can send someone to pick you
up. Can you give me your address, please?” Without responding, Bobby set the phone
down and headed for his mom’s Prius parked on the street. Grabbing
her keys off of the console table, he flung open the front door and
froze. A woman stood in the doorway, arm
extended to knock. Somewhere in her fifties, she looked
like she could have been a supermodel in her younger years—tall and
slender, with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Dressed all in
white, she wore an elegantly tailored dress suit with a golden silk
scarf to match her hair. Bobby took a step back and the woman
stepped forward, towering over him in four-inch Prada heels. “Just
who I was looking for,” she exclaimed. Bobby took another involuntary step
back, opening space for the woman to cross the threshold. She did so,
closing the door quickly behind her. “Hello, Bobby.” Bobby retreated across the foyer to the
base of the stairs. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you
from the hospital?” Even as he asked the question, Bobby
knew the answer. He’d only just hung up with the
hospital seconds ago. Besides, he hadn’t given them his address. The woman scanned the room, seemingly
memorizing every detail of the small but tidy three-bedroom house.
Bobby had never been ashamed of his home before, but something about
this woman’s gaze made him wish the house were nicer. “Well, this place is . . . cozy,”
she said finally. “Not quite what I pictured for Jeremiah’s
family, but I suppose to each his own.” The mention of his grandfather caught
Bobby by surprise. He relaxed his grip on the car keys and leaned
against the banister, trying to act casual as he asked, “How do you
know my grandfather?” The woman’s eyes narrowed for a split
second, then she extended her arm. “My name is Cassandra,” she
said, offering her hand stiffly, like a soldier forced to salute.
“Your grandfather and I go way back.” “But how do you—” began Bobby. Before he finished, his stomach let
loose a tremendous growl. Bobby’s insides turned queasy and his
knees buckled. The keys slipped from his hand and hit the hardwood
floor with a clank. Cassandra caught Bobby under the arms and hoisted
him back up before he followed the keys to the ground. “Well, I can see I got here none too
soon,” she said with a heavy sigh. For an older woman, she was
surprisingly strong. “Come on, let’s get you to the
kitchen.” Bobby lacked the strength to protest.
Arms flopping at his sides, feet dragging, he let her escort him
across the dining room to the narrow kitchen that ran down the left
side of the house. Depositing Bobby unceremoniously at the
kitchen table, Cassandra rifled through the
refrigerator. Bobby leaned over the tabletop, gripping his stomach as
he fought to keep down his late-night snack of Hawaiian pizza and
chicken wings. Cassandra pulled something out of her
pocket and stuffed it into the blender on the Formica countertop.
Adding an assortment of vegetables and juice from the fridge, she ran
the machine and poured the contents into a glass. “Drink this,” she said, shoving the
cup into his hands. Bobby took a deep breath and pulled
himself upright. “What’s in it?” “It’ll help you recover from your
anima event,” said Cassandra. Bobby sniffed and thrust the cup out to
arm’s length. It smelled like cat urine mixed with moldy cheese.
“My what-awhat?” Cassandra pushed the cup toward his
face. “Drink!” Something about her words echoed in his
head like a siren’s song. Before he knew it, he’d drained the
contents. Cassandra leaned against the counter, watching him with a
slight smile as he gagged from the aftertaste. When he could speak, Bobby said, “How
did you—” “I’ll explain later,” said
Cassandra. “Right now, we need to leave.” Still wobbly but feeling stronger by
the second, Bobby rose. “Right now, I need to get to the
hospital.” “I’m afraid that’s not an
option,” said Cassandra. “It’s the first place they’ll look.” Bobby opened his mouth to protest. Then
the doorbell rang. “Just as I feared.” Cassandra
pushed Bobby toward the dining room. “Quickly, go pack a bag! I’ll
buy us some time, but you must hurry.” Bobby walked to the front window and
peered through the blinds. Two men stood on the porch directly below
the lamp. One was reed thin, with oily, slicked-back hair and
pockmarked cheeks. The other was pudgy, with a receding hairline,
heavy jowls, and cruel eyes that reminded Bobby of a hyena. On the curb behind them, men in black uniforms
piled out of a line of black SUVs glimmering under the incandescent
street lamps. “What’s with the rejects from
Saturday Night Fever?” asked Bobby, noting the pastel suits, huge
lapels, and bell-bottom pants of the two men on the porch. Cassandra swept past Bobby and peeked
between the slates. “Just my luck,” she grumbled.
“Bobby, get upstairs and get your things. I have a plan, but you
must hurry.” Bobby drifted to the staircase and
stopped with one hand on the banister. Cassandra touched his arm. “Go on,”
she said. “I’ll take care of this.” He searched her face for a long moment.
Then he rushed upstairs and began to pack. As Bobby hurriedly threw clothes into
his bag, he heard the front door open and Cassandra’s voice. It was
one of the last things he expected. “Hello, Simpkins. Hayward,” she
said. “What brings you by this evening?” “Cassandra! What a surprise,” the
man said. “That much is obvious from the blank
look on your face,” said Cassandra. “Be a dear and close
your mouth, won’t you, Hayward? I can feel my hair starting to
frizz.” Cassandra stepped outside and closed
the door behind her. Bobby set down his bag and moved to the
top of the stairs. The voices were muffled, but through the transom
window above the front door, he could make out the speakers’ faces
and piece together what they were saying. “You had best watch your tone,”
said Hayward, the fat man with the cruel eyes. “And explain what you’re doing
here,” said Simpkins, the skinny one. “Do we have a situation?” “Relax,” said Cassandra. “The
brass just thought it might be best for me to assist.” “What are you gonna do?” asked
Hayward. “Read the kid a bedtime story?” Cassandra’s response sounded
well-rehearsed, just like her answers to Bobby. “This kid has been
off the grid until now. Which means you have no idea what he’s
capable of.” Hayward scoffed. “He’s one lousy
kid. I could handle this entire job by myself.” “We didn’t receive any instructions
about you assisting,” said Simpkins. “I think it’s best we
handle this on our own.” “You felt the quake, right?” said
Cassandra. “Are you sure you want to be on his bad side if he
experiences another anima event?” Bobby paused. There was that phrase
again—anima event. “We got the hospital report,” said
Hayward. “We know exactly what triggered him.” “But you don’t know what else
might—” “Enough small talk,” said Simpkins.
“Where’s the boy, Cassandra?” “He’s inside, but he’s still
pretty shaken up. The hospital called—he knows his dream was real.” “Then we should go in and comfort
him,” Hayward chuckled. The doorknob jiggled. Cassandra held her ground. “Remember
what happened with the Thompson kid?” she said coolly. “How was
the recovery process? Not too painful, I hope.” “Kiss my—” said Hayward. Simpkins
cut him off. “Have it your way, Cassandra,” said
Simpkins. “Go back inside and get the kid. Hayward, get back to the
truck and radio this in. Find out why we weren’t informed that Miss
Congeniality here was called in to assist.” Bobby didn’t wait to hear anymore.
Shoving the remaining clothes he’d pulled out into his bag, he cast
a final glance around the room for anything else worth taking. He
paused at an old photo on the corner of his desk. It was a picture of
him, his parents, and his grandfather Jeremiah at the beach during
one of Grandpa’s rare visits. Bobby still remembered that day.
Grandpa had been animated and intense that afternoon, warning Bobby
about all sorts of things that made no sense— cautioning him to
keep away from wild animals and to always carry a flashlight. Bizarre
as he was, it had been nice to see the old man. Bobby lifted the picture and the corner
caught on something. Pulling harder, he exposed a tarnished silver
necklace with a stone pendant shaped like a flower. He remembered it
vaguely, a gift from Grandpa, given to him the day the photo was
taken. Far too feminine for a teenage boy, it had sat on Bobby’s
desk for years, buried beneath piles of comic books and video games.
On impulse, Bobby stuffed both the picture and the pendant into his
pocket and headed for the window. He had one foot over the windowsill when the door
creaked open behind him. “I hope you weren’t planning on leaving
without me,” said Cassandra. Bobby froze, half in, half out of the
window. “You lied to me,” he said. “You know those guys down
there. And now you’re going to turn me over to them.” “I didn’t lie to you; I lied to
them to buy us some time.” Bobby grimaced. “How do I know you
aren’t lying to me about lying to them?” “Because I am going to help you
escape.” Bobby swung his other leg out over the
sill. “Thanks, but I’ve got that covered.” “Suit yourself,” said Cassandra.
“But you should know they’ll see you from the curb.” Bobby shot
a quick glance outside. Six men, each wearing dark military garb,
stood by the vans less than fifty feet away. “Those are Core agents, sent to bring
you in,” said Cassandra. She retreated to the door. “I’m headed
out the back. You can either come with me, or take your chances out
the window.” Bobby balanced on the sill, staring
into the distance. What the heck is a Core agent? And what’s an
anima event?” The men by the vans broke off into
teams. Two of them headed down either side of the house. At least two
more agents remained by the curb. Cassandra disappeared down the steps.
With a sigh, Bobby climbed back into his bedroom, grabbed his duffle
bag, and hurried after her. On tiptoes, they crept through the
house to the back porch, located off the pantry, beyond the kitchen.
Cassandra eased the door open with Bobby at her hip. The backyard was
dark with no lights on except a single bulb by the garage entrance.
Gravel crunched off to their left as the Core agents crept up the driveway. “They’re coming!” Bobby whispered
to Cassandra. She held a finger to her lips and pointed through the
darkness to the barely visible ivy-covered fence bordering the back
alley. From the front of the house, Simpkins
shouted, “Hey, Cassandra! HQ has no info about an assist. Open up
now or we’re coming in.” Bobby started across the lawn, but
Cassandra grabbed his shoulder. A few seconds later, a loud clash of
shattered hinges and splintered wood sounded as the front door was
smashed in. Cassandra threw open the back door. “Go
now!” she yelled. With his duffle bag bouncing on his
shoulders, Bobby raced to the back fence. Encumbered as he was, he
got there far ahead of Cassandra, who struggled with her high heels
on the thick grass. Bobby reached the back gate and stared
in horror. A heavy chain wrapped around the latch, secured by a thick
padlock. Behind him, light flickered in the gap between the garage
and the corner of the house as the Core agents continued up the
driveway. No going back for the key. Bobby raced along the back fence,
trampling through the vegetable garden until he found a spot not
covered in ivy. A light flashed in his direction. A split second
later, Simpkins shouted and broke into a sprint across the lawn. “Stop! . . . Come back here!” Bobby tossed his duffle bag over the
fence and climbed. Meanwhile, Cassandra reached the fence
and paused at the gate. “What are you doing?” he yelled.
“Climb!” Instead, Cassandra grasped the hefty
padlock in both hands as Bobby reached the top of the fence. Dropping
to the ground on the far side, Bobby took a moment to gather his bag.
When he straightened up, Cassandra stood next to him, the gate
slightly ajar. She pushed the gate shut, replaced the chain, and
clicked the padlock back into place. Bobby froze. “Hey, that gate was
locked! How did you—?” Cassandra brushed his question aside
with a wave. “No time for that. We need to leave, now!” One house down, a white convertible
Porsche sat in the middle of the alley. Cassandra slid into the
driver’s seat and started the engine. Behind them, the back fence
rattled as their pursuers reached the wall and began to climb. Bobby
threw his bag in the back of the Porsche and leapt over the door into
his seat. Cassandra winced at the dark smudges his sneakers left on
the leather upholstery. She revved the engine, sending up a deafening
roar as two agents dropped into the alley. The one in front pulled a pistol.
“Stop!” he yelled. Cassandra slammed the Porsche into
gear, rocketing down the narrow backstreet at breakneck speed. There
was a loud crack as a bullet lodged in the back bumper. Cassandra tossed her middle finger in
the air. “You’ll pay for that!” Bobby held his breath until they’d
reached the end of the block and turned the corner. He leaned back in
his seat and took a deep breath as the men disappeared behind him,
ditched like a forgotten dream in the dawn of a new day.
R. Scott Boyer graduated from the Haas School of Business at UC Berkeley in 1996. In 2008, he became fascinated with the idea of blending young adult fantasy with new-age fiction. While maintaining a full-time job, he couldn't help but envision the kind of book he wanted to read. This exploration led to the creation of the Bobby Ether YA fantasy series, which combines spiritual elements with ancient myths and legends to create fun, fast-paced stories tailored for young adults but suited for adventure lovers of all ages.
Through
his writing, Scott likes to explore various spiritual and
metaphysical themes, including karma, serendipity, communion with
nature, and the interconnectedness of all living things. In his free
time, Scott likes to play basketball and tennis, as well as bike with
his rescue dog, Patch. Over the years, Scott has been involved with a
number of volunteer youth organizations, including United In Harmony,
YMCA summer and winter camps, various basketball programs, and
C5LA.
Raised
in Santa Monica, California, Scott still resides in the Los Angeles
area close to his family.
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