Is Street Child A Good Novel For Middle Schoolers?

For nearly five centuries, no child has drawn a first breath. The Creator sealed the womb of the world, and humanity learned to live without its future. But in the depths of Triune, another kind of genesis rose. From the Middle comes a child with power and lineage to rival the Creator. Not born, but woven. Not raised, but awakened. Bodies shaped by design. Souls coaxed from silence. Each one a crafted echo of what humanity once was. Those who survive their emergence ascend to the Upper. Those who falter are reclaimed by the dark. On the night meant to mark their passage into adulthood, five friends stumble upon a truth older than scripture and sharper than prophecy: The first humans were not what they were told. The gods were not who they claimed to be. And the Children of Triune were never meant to ask why. Some truths don't set you free, they come for you.

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

Hot. Fast. Dangerous. Only two things are capable of sating my hunger: racing and women. I’m a devil behind the wheel, and there isn’t another man in New York City who can beat me. Nor any dumb enough to try. But there was a woman who could. My ex-wife, Evie. And she did. Messed me up real good. Thanks to her, I gave up my dream of racing, but I can’t run from fate forever. The evil bastards at her side have taken over the underground racing scene, but I’m diving back in deep. With my focus on the road, the last thing I need is a distraction, but that’s just what Laina is. My best friend’s little sister feels off limits, until she isn’t. Perfect curves and a smile that could melt hearts, this woman has me wanting to say yes from the start. She’s relentless and drives me mad with the desire to be bad one more time—just for her. I might be outracing demons, but I’m not running from anything. Not me. Not ever again.

Sarah had lived a normal life since she was adopted at 9 months old, that is until her 18th birthday arrived. Discovering that she was born a werewolf has everything in her life changing. After finding her mate and finding out about the prophecy made before her birth the pressure to fulfil he destiny starts to weigh on her. Can she survive what is coming or will she fold under the pressure of her destiny?

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

As I was watching a movie in the cinema, a rude child kept kicking the back of my seat. He even took off his shoe and extended his foot next to my face. I turned around and chastised him to take his seat, but he stabbed me in my neck with a sharp needle. Feeling the pain, I reached out and wiped the blood from my neck. His mother chuckled. “It’s fine, he’s just fooling around with my sewing needle. It’s just a harmless jab. It’s not like it has poison on it. Be a good sport about it.” I threw the popcorn bucket onto the floor and aimed my phone’s flashlight at the rude child. I roared, “The child’s holding a discarded needle that was used on an AIDS patient in the hospital! There’s an AIDs patient’s blood on it!”