About the Author Kyra Leigh grew up in Utah playing classical piano. She and her four sisters were homeschooled and spent most of their time reading. She works off and on at the annual Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers (WIFYR.com) workshop. She loves to travel, hike, and talk books with her friends. You can visit Kyra on Facebook, Instagram, and on the blog she shares with her Mom, ThrowingUpWords.Wordpress.com. Reaper is her first novel. Read more Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Reaper 1 After “Miss Rosie Wolfe. Rosie Wolfe?” I open my eyes. A girl shakes my shoulder. She wears a creamy-colored shirt with black pants. She looks to be about my age. Maybe a little bit younger. Her eyes look scared. Nervous, maybe. “Thank goodness you’re awake. I was worried you weren’t gonna pass over.” The girl hands me a piece of paper. “She’s been waiting for you for ten minutes. She hates to wait, so you better get up and go to her office.” Then the girl leaves. “Who?” I call after her. My voice comes out hoarse and tired. If she hears me it doesn’t matter, because she doesn’t come back. That’s when I realize I’m in a hospital. Only I’ve never seen a hospital room like this. The sheets are dark gray, and so are the walls. There’s a cold feeling in this room. Like someone left the window open somewhere. I glance at the walls around me and there’s not even one painting. When Dad stayed in the hospital, there were at least a few images of flowers and happy things. These walls are blank. I get out of bed, walk to the door, and peek outside into a hall. Two women head in my direction. They wear the same outfit as the girl. Flat cream-colored shirt and black pants. A few feet from them is a desk. Another woman sits there. I take a deep breath and go to her. She types fast on her computer, like maybe each hand is in a race with the other. Before I can say anything, she speaks in a grumpy tone. “What’s the number say? Anne has yet to direct someone into the right room.” She types for a minute more and then glances up at me. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a hundred years. “Uh, the nurse gave me this,” I say, handing the old woman the piece of paper. She glances at it, and then back at me. The air feels cold, but I don’t have goose bumps. I don’t even feel cold, but the air does. Like when I breathe, I can feel a chill on my lungs, or throat. “It says, ‘Go to room thirteen.’ That means go to room thirteen. What’s so confusing about that?” She holds the paper up for me to look at. She has an annoyed look on her face. Like I’ve ruined her day. “And if you believe that that girl is a nurse, then you’re in trouble. If that girl was left in charge of someone’s care, I can’t imagine what would happen. Dead or alive,” the lady says. I feel my face go red. I shouldn’t be embarrassed; I don’t know her. Does she have to be mean? Is it part of her job? “I’m sorry,” I say. “I guess I didn’t know which room that was. Where am I? Is my mom here? Maybe staying in a different room?” I can still hear Mom’s voice in my head. Calling my name. Rosie. She sounded so far away. Just the thought makes me want to cry my eyes out in front of this grumpy old secretary. Or whatever her job duties are. Maybe she’s the nurse and the last girl was the secretary? Either way, I do not like it here. If I wasn’t sad before I certainly am now. This place is about as inviting as the hotel in a horror movie. Even the carpet is gray and depressing. I hope Mom’s okay. What would I do if something happened to her? The lady laughs and shakes her head. I didn’t think it was possible to laugh without smiling, but I guess this lady has accomplished it. “Just go down that hall.” She points to her left. I hesitate, and then walk down the way she points. The walls are that same gross stormy-gray color. It reminds me of a dark cloud on a summer day. I hadn’t noticed before, but some of the doors have numbers written on the front. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Did my room have a number on it? The farther down the hall I go, the bigger the numbers get. And the bigger the numbers get, the warmer the air feels. Everything around me seems to get brighter. I glance back at the nurse, and it’s like a stormy sky hangs above her head. Even though she’s just a little ways from me, she’s almost in a different world. A sadder world. When I get to the end, I see a big door with the number thirteen on the front. Next to it is a desk, with another woman in the same outfit as the first two. Only this lady doesn’t look as grumpy. She’s actually pretty. With light-colored hair, and bright skin. For some reason when I look at her, I know something bad has happened. Something awful. As happy as she looks, is as scared as I feel. The more she smiles at me, the more I know fear. I probably look like I’ve seen a ghost. I feel like I’ve seen a ghost. “Stay calm,” I whisper, but it’s hard to because I’m all alone with these strangers in this grim, depressing place. Strangers and mean secretaries and nurses who have no idea where to direct people. Just stay calm. “Are you Rosie? She’s been waiting more than fifteen minutes for you. What was the holdup?” When she speaks, her voice cracks, like she’s spent her whole life smoking up a storm. I wasn’t expecting her to sound like that. I try to say something but she interrupts me again. “Just go in. She doesn’t like to wait.” The lady gives me a funny face after she says this. My bad feeling gets worse. I’m surprised when I walk into the room. There’s another woman, yes, only this lady has long white hair, light skin, and glassy blue eyes. She wears a black dress and sits at a desk that I would imagine a rich businessman would have in his office. “Rosie. Finally. Please come in. I don’t have all day. Sit.” The lady gestures to the chair in front of her desk. This room doesn’t look like it should even be in a hospital. It’s nothing like the halls or the place I just woke up in. The walls have photos all over. Pictures of this woman with famous people. Dead famous people, actually. Gandhi. Elvis. Lou Reed. Whoever did the Photoshop knows what they’re doing. How did they make the images look so real? I look back at the woman. She must be in charge here. She must be the one to help me figure out what is going on. Am I sick? Even worse, is Mom? My hands shake. The lady points to the chair again, so I sit. There’s a stack of papers on her desk. “Are you here to help me?” Am I asleep? I hide my hands under her desk and pinch myself. The lady glances at me. “Are you a nightmare?” I pinch myself again. I can’t feel a bit of pain. Maybe I am dreaming. I really, really hope I’m dreaming. “Stop pinching yourself. Everyone thinks that the first day.” Guess not. I glance down at my hands under her desk. How did she know? She sets a piece of paper in front of me. Tiny text covers the front and back, and there are two lines at the bottom that I assume are for signatures. “What’s this?” I ask. “And how did you know I was pinching myself?” She looks at me and smiles, just a little bit, but doesn’t say anything. A contract? It’s hard to know because the font is so tiny. Whoever printed this didn’t plan on someone reading it. I start to panic, but I take a few deep breaths. Mom taught me when I’m nervous to just breathe, even if I have something to panic about. Breathe. Breathe. Everything is fine. This office smells like nothing I’ve ever smelled before. It smells so good I can almost taste it. Strawberries? Peaches? Why didn’t the rest of this place smell nice? Out in the halls it almost felt sterile. Or maybe I imagined it that way? “That’s your work contract, and to be honest, there’s no point in reading it. It’s nonnegotiable. If you don’t sign it, you’re not free to move on.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a pen. There’s a black heart at the top. Like something I’d find in a party store. “Sign at the bottom and I’ll give you the first of the three names,” she says. She looks bored with me. Maybe she has somewhere else to be. Either way, she’s not very pleasant to be around. Rude and impatient. And she hasn’t even told me what’s going on. “Move on to where? Three names for what? I want to go home,” I say. I glance down at the paper and then back up at all the pictures. This woman with all these dead celebrities. All these look-alikes. Am I in a circus or something? “Where’s Mom? Did she get hurt? Why am I here?” My voice starts to rise. I know I need to relax. Try to breathe, but I can’t. How did I get here? Why is this happening? “Who are you? What is this place?” I stand and back toward the door. Now my legs shake. “Wait one moment,” the woman says. She gets out of her chair and walks to the door, then shouts, “Anne, I have had it with you. Your only job was to tell her and you forgot? Get out of here. You’re on probation for the next seven days.” She slams the door shut and sits back down in her chair. She picks up the phone on her desk and clicks a number. “Hi, yes, that girl has been a pain in my ass since day one. I’d like her moved to a different department, please.” She hangs up the phone. For someone who just screamed her brains out, she’s not even flushed. Her hair hasn’t moved. She’s crazy. I’m in a crazy home. I’m in a peach-smelling crazy home. My nerves must have gotten the better of me, and Mom must have admitted me. Did I have a breakdown because of Dad? “Rosie, I have some news,” the lady says. She gives me one of those faces. The faces that say, I’m sorry but . . . “I knew it.” Tears rush up on me. I have lost my mind because of Dad. The breathing didn’t keep me sane. Neither did the cooking. I’ve turned into a total cuckoo bear. “You didn’t survive the accident,” she says. Accident? She hands me a tissue. Accident? “Huh?” I say. I sound like a lost child. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but I’m busy. So if you could get the cry over with so you can start your work, I’d appreciate it,” she says. She doesn’t look busy. She looks like she’s trying to ruin my life. What accident? “Is this some sort of joke? Who are you? Why am I here? This isn’t funny!” I shout at the woman, and she doesn’t even flinch. Someone’s playing a game with me. Someone’s trying to make me think I’m crazy. That’s what this is. “I’m not really crazy. I know this is a terrible trick,” I say. I try to use a tough voice, but I sound even more like a crybaby than I did before. “Carrie didn’t like your outfit. You walked home to change. Only you never made it. Remember that white dog you tried to keep from getting hit by the truck? Do you remember now? You’re dead, Rosie. It was your time.” The woman uses a bitchy tone when she speaks. But . . . It all starts to come back. The walk home. The dog. I saw that dog for three days. Then that evening it just appeared in the road. And that truck was going to hit it. Mom calling my name. The rain on my face. “Good. You remember,” the lady says. “I don’t have the time or interest to let you grieve in my office. Take this information and get out. Thank you.” She opens another drawer and pulls out a folder. “You’ll get your second name after you gather the first soul. I’ll be checking up on you. Me, or one of the girls.” I glance at the dead celebrities again. This isn’t where you go when you die. None of this is right. “If I’m dead, where’s my father?” I ask. “My mom always told me when we passed on he would be waiting for us. That he would be here. We wouldn’t be alone.” Mom and I talked about it a lot. It comforted me. Helped calm me down when I was missing Dad more than usual. “I can’t believe Anne didn’t give you any of this information. Okay, here’s the deal. You sign that piece of paper.” She leans across the table and points to the line where my signature goes. “Then you take this name.” She shakes the paper in front of my face. “And you collect the first person’s soul. I send you two more. You collect them. And bam, you get to move on to paradise. Your dad will be there.” She pauses and lets out a big sigh. “If you refuse, you get to stay here and work in the office forever. Or until something significant happens.” She sits back down and hands me the Sharpie. “So what’s it gonna be, Rosie? Because, to be honest, nothing significant ever happens.” I take the paper from her. Someone’s personal info is written on it. Martin Gables. I read about his job (retired garbage collector), his interests (walking his dog), stuff like that. There are suggestions, in bold, for how I might go about taking him. Perching on his shoulder. Pretending to be an injured animal. Acting as if you have an important message to bring him. I can’t read anymore. I think about that white dog again. I fed him leftover food the night before I died. He’d come up on the back porch and scratched on the door. I was nice to him. And then he kills me? “I have to kill this person?” I ask. “I’m a ghost, and I have to kill people?” Maybe I’m in shock. I can’t really be dead. The woman puts her hand on her forehead, like maybe she’s growing a headache in there. “You don’t kill any of them. You bring them their fate. And you’re not a ghost, Rosie. You’re a Reaper,” she says. So that dog brought me my fate? It sounds to me like he killed me, caused my death. “Haven’t you ever heard of the Grim Reaper?” I think of the cartoon Death with the hood and that long scythe thing. Even after Dad died, I figured, your body just stopped working, and you moved to your next life. I never thought some hooded figure came and took your soul. “Yes, I’ve heard of him,” I say. “That’s me. I’m the Grim Reaper. I bring death. And you get to help me,” she says, holding out her arms. Like she’s posing. Or modeling her tight black dress. I guess she does look nice in it. It feels like I’m caught in a terrible fantasy novel. Something so unbelievable it can’t be true. This woman looks nothing like Death. She doesn’t even look evil. She just looks bored, and annoyed. And classy. How can Death be classy? “Why can’t you do it? I don’t want to do your job,” I say. Who else will appear on this list? What if someone I know shows up? What did this man ever to do me? This Martin Gables. How can she expect me to take his soul? What if he has kids? What if he’s happily married? “Because that’s not my job anymore. The only people I take are world icons. Like the pope, or Lady Gaga. See?” She points to the picture of her and Gandhi. They both smile in the image. I just stare at the picture. She looks a little bit younger, but it’s her all right. Gandhi looks exactly like he did in all the pictures I’ve seen of him at school, or on the Internet. Only this picture winks at me. “What the hell? He winked,” I say. “There is no hell. Only work,” Death says. It’s true. I know in my gut, she’s telling the truth. “No more questions? Good. Now get out of here. Or stay and work with me forever. But the sooner you collect the souls, the sooner you get to see your father.” I stare at her for a second. Her face light, and her hair so fair. All of her so bright. She’s the reason Dad is dead. I’m dead. “Scoot!” she says. I walk out of her office. Not sure where to go. The door slams behind me. The lady at the desk outside of the Grim Reaper’s office jumps. “I’ll get Brandy. She can walk you through the steps so you don’t have to go back in there,” the lady says. She gives me a face that says, I’m sorry. I saw that look on so many faces after Dad died. The lady stands up and hands me a tissue. “The shock will wear off, I promise.” She must know I’m dead. Is she dead too? The whole room feels dark and sad now. The bright feeling it had is gone. The sad gray walls. It’s the type of place that would be cold all year round. The kind of place only the dead would be banished to. The kind of place you’d imagine your worst nightmare taking place. I breathe in deep and feel that cold air in my lungs. Even though I don’t feel it on my skin, it’s enough for me to get chills. I suddenly want to cry. Just burst out into tears. I want my mother. My father. I just want to go home. And from the sound of it, that’s never going to happen again. Read more
S**T
Unique take on an old classic.
While I am not the target demographic for this book I found the premise to be interesting and I am happy to report that I was not disappointed. Lest you think, dear reader, that I am biased let me present a con: It is not as dense as Lord of the Rings which makes it perfect for leisurely reading...what?! Another compliment?? Foiled agains by Kyra's prose!
A**R
I really enjoyed what a light read this was
I really enjoyed what a light read this was! The author does a great job illustrating the main character's development as she moves back and forth between past and present. With the smooth transitions, it was easy to keep up with the flow of the book.The story itself was very unique and always kept you guessing, even until the very end. I loved the plot twists and the characters Rosie meets in her journey.Overall, a great read!
A**R
AMAZING
I actually pre-ordered this book hoping that it would be something wonderful. I am please to say it was just that! After thumbing through the first few pages I could not put this book down. It was a light read and a great story. I have since bought a copy for my niece who I know will love it. The writing was so well done it just made the reading that much more pleasurable. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND this for anyone looking for a great book!
G**O
Unexpectedly emotional ride that left me analyzing and wanting to ...
Unexpectedly emotional ride that left me analyzing and wanting to improve my own relationships in this often too-short life.
K**N
A Bittersweet Story of Love, Loss, and Moving on - With a Twist
This review originally appeared on herestohappyendings.com.As far as one of a kind, completely original books go, Reaper is probably one of top ones that I have read over the years. It was unexpected, and not at all like how I thought it was going to be. The book was captivating and gripping, and once I started reading, I couldn't stop. In fact, I read it over the course of a single afternoon.Rosie Wolf always thought that when you die, you go right to a wonderful Paradise like setting where you get to be reunited with your loved ones and spend eternity relaxing and enjoying and reflecting about your time on Earth.However, when Rosie is killed in an accident, Rosie finds out that Paradise might not be what she was expecting it to be.Waking up in a hospital room that looks strange compared to other hospitals that she's been in, Rosie is met by a few women who are rude to her and speak to her about confusing things that she doesn't understand. However, Rosie is then sent to the office of another woman, who tells Rosie that she is, in fact, dead, and that in order to move on, she has to go back to Earth and collect three souls as a Reaper. If she doesn't, she will be stuck in this awful hospital-like place for eternity.Rosie decides that she will do it - but instead of going back as an animal or a bird like the others who come through, Rosie wanted to go back as herself. With a few minor changes, such as skin and hair color, Rosie finds herself prepared and ready to go, back down to Earth, where she will begin collecting the three souls she needs to collect in order to move on to Paradise.When she is sent back to Earth, she is given instructions for getting to a woman named Martha, who takes in Reapers and helps them collect the souls they are assigned. When she attempts to find Martha, she has a run in with two boys, and she realizes that she might like one of them - Kyle - leading her to already break a rule that could do some serious damage."'The consequences for breaking the rules can be very dangerous. Not only for the living, but for the dead, as well.'"Rosie learns this the hard way, and she finds herself getting closer and closer to Kyle and his family, who happens to live right by Martha. During this time, Martha is helping Rosie to collect her souls - the first one is an old man, and while Rosie finds it somewhat difficult, it seems that he has figured out who Rosie is and is ready to go anyway, because he misses his daughter, who had died years before. When Rosie collects her first soul, she and Martha have a few days before she is contacted with information about the second soul, which is infinitely harder, as the situation that person is in is similar to one that she had dealt with when she was alive.As time goes on and Rosie tries to collect the three souls as quickly as possible without messing up, she can't help but wonder about her mother, and what has become of her. She also finds herself getting more and more involved with Kyle, much to Martha's dismay.The chapters in Reaper are pretty short, and there are a lot of them - some of them going back into the past from before the accident that took Rosie's life, and some of them taking place in the present. The author did this in such a way that we get a glimpse of Rosie's past, when she was alive, followed by a small amount of time in the present, when she is a Reaper. The story unfolds slowly, and we get a glimpse of what Rosie is dealing with in the before and in the after, giving us a deep appreciation of her as a character.I like how there are moments before, leading up to the accident, and after the accident all sprinkled throughout the book almost randomly, so that in order to get the entire picture, the reader feels as though they must keep reading to put all of the pieces together. It's an interesting way to write a book, and I thought it was interesting. I liked how we got to view Rosie's life in both the before and after."Every time I look at myself in the mirror I'm surprised. One thing I will never miss is the acne. Being dead has some perks."Rosie's attitude made her feel real, too - she had an air of humor around her and she was a great narrator for the most part. There were moments that I couldn't help but laugh at things she would say, and also times where I felt like I could almost feel the grief that she was going through, and it was heartbreaking.I can't say that I really cared for the insta-love that seemed to pop up between Rosie and Kyle, though, but I'm never really a fan of insta-love so I was expecting not to like this part of the book. I felt like, with how short the book was, we didn't really get to know Kyle and he didn't have time to really develop a personality like Rosie and Martha did. It was a bit of a bummer. I think the story could have been a bit longer, with some extra things added in especially about Kyle's life.The ending of the book was something I was pretty surprised by, honestly, and while I won't say much about it for fear of spoiling it for others, I have to say that I didn't like it at all. I had hoped it would end a bit different, and although I think it was supposed to be a bittersweet ending, it just kind of left me feeling depressed.Overall, aside from the ending and the lack of personality with Kyle, I really found myself enjoying this book. It was a lot different than I had expected, and it was actually a pretty fun read. It's something that I would definitely read again, and if you're looking for something different from than what you usually read, I highly recommend picking this one up and giving it a go.Note: I received an ARC of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!
D**S
but then weaves in chapters that fill in the characters past that make you want to read the back story just as bad as the main plot
This book is original. I heard about this through a friend and the premise piqued my interest. I started reading this when I had a few spare minutes and found myself reading more and more. The chapters are shorter than what I normally read and I found myself absolutely loving the format and style of the book. The author does an expert job of making the characters in the book believable and relatable. The pace of the book is just right. You are taken through a very unique spin of a the grim reaper that keeps your mind constantly curious of where this is going to go, but then weaves in chapters that fill in the characters past that make you want to read the back story just as bad as the main plot. I found myself loving the little details that make each chapter feel real and natural. It was hopeful and heart breaking as the same time with a heavy dose of wit. It was a refreshing read and I am very eager to see whats next from this author.
G**N
Heaven Can Wait meets If I Stay...
One of the earliest forms of trauma for most young teens has to deal with the subject of coping with death. Reaper, by Kyra Leigh, follows the story of Rosie Wolfe, which starts with her waking up in the strangest looking hospital-like room. It’s a prelude to the discovery that she no longer inhabits the land of the living. Leigh puts a completely different spin on her examination of death by having her hero dealing with it post-mortem. Not only does the trauma of her father’s death from cancer still haunt her, she now faces some very unsavory tasks in order to win her place in paradise in order to reunite with him. There is a very clear Heaven Can Wait aspect to the story as the after-life has a fully functioning set of rules and procedures governed by the Grim Reaper and her administrative staff.By alternating flashbacks of Rosie’s life with her current quest, we come to understand how tenuous the bonds of life are and how capricious death can be. They seem both cruel and uncalled for. Leigh is a competent writer who quite deftly tugs, and sometimes wrenches, at your heartstrings.There was a level of disappointment in that Reaper never delivers a solid resolution except the conclusion that death, in and of itself, leaves loved ones floundering in its wake and that there is never a one-size-fits-all way to deal with it.
E**N
Highly Recommended!
Teenage Rosie dies and becomes a reaper with the task of collecting souls. However, there are strict rules for reapers that Rosie is tempted to break, and this can lead to scary consequences. This is a suspenseful, fast paced read that is also filled with humorous and thought-provoking moments. Highly recommended!
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