Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN
Chapter TWELVE
Chapter THIRTEEN
Chapter FOURTEEN
Chapter FIFTEEN
Chapter SIXTEEN
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Chapter EIGHTEEN
Chapter NINETEEN
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Copyright
First Girl
By Julie Aitcheson
In the battle for liberty, love, and truth, will Gabi’s frail body prove her greatest weakness—or her ultimate strength?
Humankind’s disregard for nature has finally caught up with it, and the United States is no more. In its place, an authoritarian Christian organization called Unitas rules with an iron fist—while perpetuating the illusion of a faith-based democracy. At the head of the council, and high in his daughter Gabi’s esteem, is Sam Lowell. But when Gabi learns of the unscrupulous plots justified by religion, her worldview shatters as she throws in with a group of misfits and malcontents to expose the truth.
But before they can change their ravaged world, they need to survive it.
On their quest, Gabi learns her part in Unitas’s plans—including the crimes committed against her and the power she’s inherited—and just how far Unitas will go to hold on to the power it has stolen.
For my nephews and nieces: Mikey, Kate, Grayson, Talon, Lily, and Eden. What makes you different, makes you stronger.
Acknowledgments
I AM so grateful for the opportunity another book provides to extend yet more gratitude to the people who have loved, supported, and sustained me as a person and writer over the years. First Girl was both my first attempt at fiction and my first attempt at writing for young adults. I dreamed it up all the way back in 2014, before the political and social landscape of the United States took yet another dramatic turn. For that reason, and because I believe in its message now more than ever, I offer huge thanks to Anne Regan and the team at Harmony Ink Press for taking a chance on First Girl.
As always I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my family, particularly my parents, Bob and Wanda Aitcheson, for their steadfast encouragement and support. They may not always understand or agree with the passions that guide my stories, but their belief in me never falters. A special thanks goes to my extended Carter and Aitcheson kin for your prayers and open hearts when your eccentric niece/cousin goes a little sideways. I come from a family of strong religious convictions on both sides, and I know that the content of this book may unsettle the people I love as much as people I have never met. I make no apologies, but hope you might still find something worthwhile in its pages.
A special thanks is due to friend-genius Twylla Lannes of Domainatrix Web Design for making JulieAitcheson.com a comfy home for my work and my often reluctant public self. I would have done it all just for the pleasure of our phone dates. Endless love also to Claire Wheeler of Re:work for helping to bring the whole thing across the finish line. This novel was written in the home of my sweetly heroic friend, Reeve Basom, and edited in the home of another wonder woman, Jocelyn Jackson. I want to be like the two of you when I grow up. Until then I’ll settle for having you both in my corner and being forever in yours. My inspiration for First Girl came with the initial image of a girl swimming through murky waters, safe as long as she stayed beneath the troubled surface. To all my friends and the teachers who inspired me—you have been my water. Thank you.
“The sea is, in fact, one ocean, one ocean with five great names and a thousand little ones.”
Alan Villiers, Oceans of the World, 1963.
Chapter ONE
WIND RAKED at Gabi’s cheeks and infiltrated her heavy layers as she slipped down the buckled sidewalk toward home. With its blanket of late winter snow, her house was even harder to distinguish from any of the others in the bland residential neighborhoods of suburban Alder, but Gabi could find it blindfolded. It was the only home she’d ever known, and she was glad when her father insisted they stay in this section despite his growing influence in the fellowship. Most executive councilmen moved closer to the temple complex where the houses were newer and more spacious, but the single-story ranch was where Sam and Therese had first made their home together after meeting on a mission trip to Madrone. “It’s important to stay connected to one’s fellows,” Sam always said. “The truth comes through us all.” But Gabi suspected her father’s loyalty to their humble dwelling had more to do with the traces of her dead mother that lingered in the shabby wall-to-wall carpeting and the colors she’d chosen for its small rooms.
As she trudged toward home, Gabi pondered the homey touches left from the early days, when her parents hung wallpaper, chose fabrics, and picked out tiles for the downstairs bathroom that was now Grammy Low’s domain. She pictured the limp hanks of Gram’s knee-high stockings hanging from the shower rod, and the ghostly tombstone teeth she kept floating in a jelly jar on the bathroom counter at night. The pastel soaps Gabi’s mother collected from abandoned resorts on her mission trips to the Southwest had long since been replaced by Grammy Low’s squirt bottle of Naylor’s Pro-Bac. “Sometimes offense is the best defense,” Gram would say, lathering suds up to the elbows and scrubbing under her blunt fingernails with a bristle brush until they shone pink.
Gabi turned onto her street, the sign that read “Cambium Terrace” obscured by a thick cake of snow that glittered in the fading light. She knew her brother, Mathew, would come along in an hour or so after tutorial and knock the snow from the street sign with one well-aimed ice ball as he ran past. Mathew was always running. Sometimes Gabi wondered if the reason she could never seem to get enough air was that Mathew used more than his share rushing headlong into everything.
