This story and it's containing characters are fictional. I do not own the rights to the media contents of this story, aside from the book cover. With mentioning this, I also heed warning about the act of copying this story for ownership beside my own. Should this occur, appropriate actions will be taken.

Marilyn Edmond. All Rights Reserved©

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Goals and a plan, that's what each had. The future, seemingly bright and imminent. The cliché of either one could land a happy ending or a defer the dream both hold in hand. With hope and prayers each walks blindly through their paths. Bumps, blockades of misfortune hampers their steady steps along the way. Nevertheless neither stops. It's a must a desire to go above and beyond. But when reaching a nadir of the obstacles, someone always falters.

Amari Nicole Jackson, a young lady with a mouth of candor and a heart of puddles. She's a wildflower in her bliss, she's a lioness in her focus, and she's a successor in her dreams. Intellect, she has it. Pride, can't live without it. Heart, enough to heal a dictator of a third world country. But even with her enigmatic persona, she still has her faults. She still worries, but she has a plan. "Those who fail to plan, plan to fail" is her motto.

But even those who plan, still fail.

With the wit of a barbarous lion and the intellect of a immature kinder, it's safe to say Cadence Brandon James is an unruly one. Troublemaker, scum, pariah; his many labels. Imprudent laughter is his only reaction to the many labels and callous words that are thrown. Tough exterior he displays. But, all a mirage at his dismay. He has a goal; make it big. How will he do it? He has no idea, but he will. "Work hard, play harder" his motto.

But, even those who work hard and play, still have to pay.

These unlikely two are a combination of complexity and tranquility. She the spark plug and he the fire that ignites. Nonetheless, they are cliche opposites that seemingly always attract. Friends since the awkward beginning of senior year.

Now with senior year slowly engulfing them in hasty decisions and life changing choices, neither Amari nor Cadence can admit the omission of fear. Life can change, throw curve balls, but it is what we do with those curve balls that determine our fate. It is when we falter, do we finally decide between the thin line of failure and success.

So here's their line, which side will they choose? Only one can tell, When We Falter.
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*Prologue/Chapter one teaser*

Life is a vast road of twist and turns. It is composed of success and failure. One is always laboring on having the ball of life fall in their court, never actually knowing if and what one should do with that ball. With life, one has to first comprehend that days will not always be dark, but they will not always presume light either. Knowing this pertinent knowledge, one must learn the skill of adaptation and settlement. That means adapting to the darkness in order to settle in the light.

Curls of midnight, skin of sweet chocolate. Eyes of almond, build of a goddess; so I remind myself each day I glance into the mirror. Mind ahead of my years, brains beyond belief; so I like to acclaim. Wonderful, dashing, astounding among her peers; so my restless persona continues to compliment. Confidence is an understatement of what I own. Dauntless, beautifully amazing, an iconoclast to those who degrade me. I am Amari Nicole Jackson.

Oh and yes, it is nice to meet me.

"AJ... Hello... Earth to little black girl in the prairie!" A miffed voice calls from behind me, unfortunately breaking my fantasy.

Unfortunately for them that is.

"What, what, what?! God, I know you saw me looking in the mirror. Stop being so needy" I playfully seethe, smirking at the playful pecan daggers.

Six foot two, build of your average basketball player. Eyes a playful shade of pecan. Skin, a smooth shade of caramel. Laughter like no other. Childish in ways, serious in none. That's my friend, the only person I can happily acclaim as the pain in my back side; Cadence Brandon James.

We've been friends since the beginning of the horrid and beautifully expected senior year. How we met, is a long overdrawn story about a cry over spilled milk-literally. The boy maybe can handle a ball, but he just can't manage to keep is chocolate milk cartoon on his tray. Yet even still, here we are spilt milk and four months later; close friends.

Even as close friends, Cadence knows when and when not to heckle my fantasies. Especially not when he isn't supposed to be in my art class in the first place. But being who he is, Cadence slips into my class and slips me out of my thoughts. How rude.

"Now you're going to draw attention to us-to me! Stop being loud! Geez!" He playfully hisses, glancing over my easel to check for any witnesses.

Once he turns back to me I cross my arms over my chest dramatically and give him a once over. I'm not too great with taking orders from anyone around my age. Even if this "anyone" is a eighteen year old Cadence. He knows all too well of this.

Sighing heavily, he apologizes and glances around once more, revving my sudden irritation. If he wouldn't have slipped into here in the first place, he wouldn't have to glance around for my art teacher; Mr. Manning. Although he has good reason to. Mr. Manning is a cold stone, no nonsense rock. He hates corruption and by the look of things when we first were introduced to him, he hates children more.

Even still, Cadence shouldn't have came here only to look over his shoulder every five seconds. Which is still working my nerves.

"You don't tell me what to do! First of all! Okay? Now, what do you want?" I demand, my hot-headed temper flaring as the seconds pass.

Seemingly amused by my irritation, Cadence flashes me a smile and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Digging into his Levi trousers with little annoying grunting sound effects, he smiles an innocent smile and reveals his palms. In each of his disgustingly ashy palms lies a crumpled five dollar bill in the right palm and another crumpled paper ball in the other.

Unable to figure out the stupidity of this boy (as usual) I glance at him and wait, impatiently if I might add, for him to construe.

"Well, I forgot to give you your five dollars from last week, you know when you won the bet about Lebron leaving the Heat? And uh, yeah this is your notes from pre-cal. So yeah enjoy." He chuckles, carefully slipping the items into my palms.

I didn't even know my palms were open, but he's fortunate that they are. He snuck in my art class-Mr.Manning's class just to give me overdue money and balled up notes? How ridiculous. How Cadence. Yes, he is his own definition of stupid.

"Ca-"

"James? James is that you? If you don't get out of my classroom I will have principal Hodge escort you out herself!" Mr. Manning screeches from the other side of the classroom.

The once oblivious students now all glance over at Cadence and I before bursting into cackles and shaking their heads. Cadence isn't much of a trouble maker, but that doesn't mean trouble doesn't make him.

I tried to tell him. I didn't, but I did.

Quickly turning away, Cadence flashes a goofy smile, apparently trying to play off his embarrassment; epic fail. All the while Mr. Manning eyes him viciously and watches as Cadence stumbles up front. Before nearing the door, he tries to offer an apology but Mr. Manning grumbles lowly before violently shoving Cadence out of the classroom.

Cackles are still being disbursed into the classroom, filling the walls with the amusement of the recent scene. But those giggles and chuckles don't live long. Once Mr. Manning snaps his head around, all fall silent. It's that stare.

He's nearly the only ivory instructor here, and shade to the misinterpretation of how ivory instructors are on movies, he actually puts fear in our hearts. The fear that forces you to sit up straight and quickly become acquaintance with proper manners. He's just that scary.

Sadly for me, I'm about to be engulfed with that fear.

"Jackson.... I hope you like cleaning easels as much as you like musing over stupidity. You have detention, and no after school. I want you at lunch. Today" He demands, not giving me another glance before grumbling lowly and returning to his desk, dismissing future conversation.

A few onlookers glance at me, silently offering their condolences. I may not be dying, but a whole hour and a half with Mr. Manning during lunch, is so close to it. Neither I nor my stomach are happy about this one.

Appreciating the sorrowful offers, I return my gaze on my empty canvas and sigh heavily.

Thank you, Cadence.

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That's it! I hope you like it! This will be my first Urban Fiction story and I'm pretty stoked about it! I hope you did enjoy! Please don't hesitate to Vote and Comment below! And if you may, why not share? You have to make use of that button someday!

Yes, before you ask; yes. I did in fact make that cover you see to the right or above.

Thanks again, Marilyn Edmond.