High school history teacher Cliff Chambers looked forward to a lazy summer along the Delaware Bay in sleepy quaint Fowl’s Point hoping to read a book or do some scholarly research on a poet known to Nietzsche. He didn’t expect to run into his crush Rayne and her domineering sister Sari, or to be consumed by an experimental drug dubbed the mix. Everybody wants the mix or more of it: a yacht-driving security agent armed with Slavic henchmen, aggressive restaurant and club owners, even a couple of gun-wielding nerds. They’re all willing to kill for the mix. Between attacks and abductions, betrayals and death, Cliff has experiences of love, sex and grandiosity unlike anything he ever thought possible. But what is real and what is the mix?

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Chapter Eleven: The Mix

Shibboleth is my young adult novel that brings together two of my interests: the espionage novel and language. Spy novels are traditionally nations against nations. But imagine regions of our own country against other regions. A spy from the North infiltrates the South or vice versa and the only thing that could give them away is a subtle regional term or pronunciation. Do they put jimmies on their ice cream, or sprinkles? Now put that scenario in a very feasible post-apocalyptic world, one that’s been torn apart, rendered pre-electronic from solar flares. Classic cloak and dagger, but instead of fighting "foreign" infiltrators, you’re up against people that look and act more or less just like you. More or less- the only way to know is to catch them saying the wrong thing. That's a shibboleth. Take the test over at Shibboleth.