On June 21, 2013 I was privileged to meet some very talented young authors at Brigham Young University. Click on Fan Art to see how they answered the question, “What would you draw on the bottom of a surfboard to chase away a shark?”
Later, after his parents were snoring, safe in their bed, Kona tiptoed back to his room and carefully placed the perfume bottle on his desk chair.
Nothing sweeter, he thought.
He double-checked his bedroom door, making sure it was closed.
No way I’m risking it.
To download the entire story, please click here.
Excerpted from Sniff by Lehua Parker. Copyright © 2013 by Lehua Parker. Excerpted by permission of Lehua Parker, LLC and Lauele Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher or author.
“Boiled cabbage, brussels sprouts, potatoes, beans, and onions. That’s it.”
“What?” Mom said, doing a double-take.
“Mom, you said you’d cook whatever I wanted.”
“Yeah, but trust me. You’re not going to like this.” She shook her head. “Nobody likes this!”
“But I have to eat this for dinner!”
“Why?” She cocked her head to the side.
“For, um, school. Extra credit. Teacher said.”
“Your teacher said if you ate boiled cabbage, brussels sprouts, potatoes, beans, and onions for dinner, she’ll give you extra credit?”
“Yeah, well, I gotta write a report on it after,” Kona grumbled.
Mom shook her head again. “Should’ve sent you to a private school. Maybe you can go to Ridgemont for seventh,” she muttered, opening the fridge and turning on the stove.
To download the entire story, please click here.
Excerpted from Sniff by Lehua Parker. Copyright © 2013 by Lehua Parker. Excerpted by permission of Lehua Parker, LLC and Lauele Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher or author.
Shhhhhh, shhhhhhh, not settling, moving. A dry sound, like snakes, like sand, like crisp, dried leaves against a window screen.
Shhhhhh, shhhhhhh.
The bed’s dust ruffle ballooned, then lifted.
“What’s that?” croaked a voice dry like sawdust cookies, followed by a snuffling, sniffling sound, the sound of a hound on a trail or pigs tracking truffles.
Sniff.
“What’s that,” sniff, snuff, snort—now not dry, but slobbery, hot, greedy—“What is it? Smells,” sniff, “sweet, like flowers, like,” snuff, drool, drip, “like clean.”
Kona held his breath and jammed his hands deeper into his armpits.
Sniff.
Closer, hotter, heat against his cheek.
Sniff.
Greedy.
Kona puffed out his cheeks and blew with all his might.
“Ugh! Onion! Rotten, stinking!” rasped the voice.
Snort, wheeze, gasp.
“Rancid! Not flowers! Where flowers? Want flowers! Where’s that smell?”
Hissing, chaffing, breathing deep.
“Under? Is it under?” scratched the voice.
Snuffle, sniffle, puff, truffles beneath a tree.
“Smells under.”
The edge of the bed dipped. The covers pulled away from Kona’s neck.
It was now or never. Kona clenched his stomach muscles and let one rip.
Ppppttthhhhhhhttttt!
“Phew! Oh, oh, stinky, rotten, smelly, horrible, horrible, little boy!” The bed bounced back. “Oh, woe, woe is me.” The voice a child’s whimper, the sound of a birthday present taken back, a rotted piece of maggot cake, no candles left to light.
In the dark and through his terror, Kona grinned.
A sound like sea wash kissing sand, a moving sound, shifting away from the bed, low toward the floor.
Sniff.
“What’s that?”
Snuff, puff, gasp.
“Smells like sugar and mangos and sunlight. Mine!”
Kona heard the mango cobbler pan thud on the floor, then a terrible licking sound, a greedy slurping sound, a sound made by a too long tongue.
As the pan disappeared under the bed, Kona let a last one rip, just to be sure.
There was only a little bit of mango cobbler left, he thought, but enough in the pan for tonight.
Kona glanced at his bedroom door to make sure it was still shut tight, and, tucking the covers snug around his neck, he drifted back to sleep.
To download the entire story, please click here.
Excerpted from Sniff by Lehua Parker. Copyright © 2013 by Lehua Parker. Excerpted by permission of Lehua Parker, LLC and Lauele Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher or author.
In his room, Kona rummaged in the bottom of his closet and pulled out a wadded pair of boxers and worn soccer shorts, the same clothes he’d worn each night and hidden in his closet for over a month. Putting on the rank and musty clothes, he immediately felt better. It was going to be all right.
He carefully closed his closet and bedroom doors, making sure they were shut tight. Eye-balling the distance to his pillow, he set the mango cobbler on his desk chair, turned off the light, and took a flying leap into bed.
As he pulled the covers up to his chin and tucked them under his shoulders and behind his neck, he smelled his hands, clean and fresh, like flowers after rain.
Dang. Better hide ‘em in my pits.
His tummy rumbled ominously.
Looking good, he thought.
To download the entire story, please click here.
Excerpted from Sniff by Lehua Parker. Copyright © 2013 by Lehua Parker. Excerpted by permission of Lehua Parker, LLC and Lauele Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher or author.
