Sunday, 6 May 2012
1st 5 Pages May Workshop - Amabel
Author: Katherine Amabel
Genre: YA Fantasy
Title: The Hourglass Bridge
Di couldn’t decide whether to tiptoe away or start running. Regrettably, being paralyzed with fear made it difficult to do either.
There’s someone in my house! The realization slammed into her again. Locked in a silence pierced only by the ring of her nervous system in her ears, she stared at the miniature, wooden hourglass on the bookshelf. It didn’t look particularly scary, standing on a lace doily next to a bowl of potpourri, but those things had been there five seconds ago.
The hourglass hadn’t.
Coby? She grasped at a desperate hope as the last, silvery grains of sand trickled through the rough, glass shell. No. Her brother was upstairs, doing his absolute best not to get ready for school, while she was alone with a potential robber, axe murderer or raving lunatic for company. Or maybe even all three.
She pressed herself against the wall to cover her back, throwing panicked glances up the hall in both directions. The skin on her right arm prickled, where, only an inch away, the wall ended for the world’s creakiest stairs. If she went up to check on her brother, she’d cut off any means of escape. But if she tried searching for the intruder, she couldn’t move anywhere without leaving the rest of the house open for them to sneak around.
The hourglass stood directly opposite the stairway, but it was too ancient and unpolished to provide any decent reflection up the stairs. In other words, her life potentially depended on a bottle of window cleaner.
Brilliant.
Di locked her eyes on the hallway phone. And something crashed to the floor above her.
Coby! She dived around the corner, without considering who she’d meet or how she might defend herself, and found Coby on the landing with his hands raised in surrender.
“Before you go mental,” he said as a cricket ball rolled out behind him, “that vase was ugly anyway.”
“Uh-huh.” Di couldn’t even process his words. “Where did this come from?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
“What?” Coby craned his neck to see beyond her. She turned to follow his gaze. The hourglass was gone.
“That’s impossible.” Di groped across the doily and checked behind the bookshelf; on the floor; and even in the gap between the shelves and the grandfather clock. “There was an hourglass right here – a little tiny one. I swear.”
“Ooookay…” Coby raised his eyebrows. “Forget the vase, you’re mental already,” he added, kicking the ball into his room and disappearing after it.
“But— I—”
Ignore him, said a voice in her head. Sure he’d caught her creeping through the house with a butcher’s knife two weeks ago, looking for what turned out to be nothing more than a mouse in the pantry, but that didn’t make her crazy and neither did this. No, she was just seeing things after last nights’ study cut into her scheduled seven and a quarter hours’ sleep. Di yawned and checked her watch – and the sight woke her faster than being drenched in a bucket of ice water. How could it be that late already? Ironing Coby’s shirt had stuffed up her routine a bit, but by this much? The bus would be there any minute.
Di rushed upstairs to the apocalyptic mess Coby called his room. His scruffy brown hair, stained uniform and grubby trainers were like camouflage amidst the chaos.
“Who lost my schoolbag?” he whined, kicking aside piles of dirty laundry and untouched textbooks.
“No-one. Can you hurry up? Mum and Dad already left for work and I don’t want to get in trouble if you miss the bus.”
Coby muttered something, probably rude, but at least he wasn’t making last minute fridge raids or playing living-room obstacle football. And if he complained again about face washing and teeth cleaning and other things fifteen-year-old boys say are a waste of time, she might just disown him altogether.
Like that’s ever going to happen. Di sighed. Despite Coby’s persistent belief that she must have been adopted, they were, to their mutual annoyance, twins. So for as long as they were stuck with each other, she might as well help him find his bag.
“Fine. I’m ready,” Di said. “I’ll search too.”
“Right.” Coby finger-combed his hair as he dashed out, but he still looked like he’d been mugged. By a cyclone.
You’re welcome. I was running on time until… you. Di grabbed her own bag from her room and hurried back downstairs, silently composing the lecture she would never have the heart to deliver. When she reached the landing, she checked the grandfather clock and froze.
From the glass case, two solemn figures were watching her.
Di spun around, searching for the source of the reflection. The stairs were empty. Gripping the banister in case her legs gave way, she started to turn back again. Every incremental movement was stiff enough to make her neck creak but she didn’t have the courage to go any faster. Eventually her gaze reached the base of the clock. She raised her head.
“Found it!” Coby thundered downstairs, slinging his backpack over his shoulder while Di tried not to faint with shock.
“It was in the bathroom,” Coby said, pushing past her to the front door. She didn’t move.
“You coming?” He paused. Di looked at the clock and saw nothing but her own wide, brown eyes staring back at her.
Tired. Plain, sane and tired, she told herself. She brushed the creases from her uniform, ran a hand over her ponytail to ensure there wasn’t a hair out of place, and followed Coby outside.
The bus passed their stop just as Di locked the front door. Coby was in no hurry for school but he couldn’t resist a race as the bus dragged itself up the hill. Di chased after him, dying of embarrassment; with her overstuffed schoolbag bouncing on her back, she felt like a giant, uncoordinated turtle.
At least it won’t make me any less cool, she reasoned as she caught up and climbed on board. Coby headed straight for the back seat, leaving Di, with her rank on the social ladder of about five rungs underground, to that most fiercely coveted of spots: smack-bang behind the driver. Waiting for her as always was her slightly freckly, slightly lanky, best-friend-ever, Josh.
“Since when do you have to run to get here on time?” He gaped at her as she joined him. “What happened, did every watch in the world stop working?”
“Coby was taking forever,” Di said distantly, still thinking of the faces in the clock.
“You okay though? You seem stressed.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Were you up all night reading again?”
“Maybe,” Di admitted. Josh feigned disappointment.
“You need a life,” he teased. He was joking, but the honesty in his hazel eyes hit a painful nerve.
Di turned away, fiddling with her neatly trimmed nails to avoid his gaze. Josh was right; her life was about as exciting as leftover Brussels sprouts.
“Maybe you… you could… come out sometime,” he said quietly. Di jerked her head up and saw, to her astonishment, a hint of colour creeping up from his cheeks to the roots of his dusty blonde hair. He met her eye, went completely red and turned to the rain streaked window, suddenly fascinated by the semi-detached houses and soggy, Welsh countryside sliding by.
“I mean… I know the library’s all the rage,” he mumbled, “but I thought we could—”
1st 5 Page May Workshop - Haynes
M. Haynes
NATE FRIZZLE: BUGS, DOGS AND OTHER THINGS THAT BITE
MG Contemporary
Chapter One
The Best Not-a-Bug Ever
Today was the day I was going to find something extra big
and creepy. I knew it. First I’d figure out what it was, and then I’d
scare Mom with it.
She’d scream for sure. She always did.
I headed straight for my lucky bug finding spot under the
tall, prickly bushes at the end of the yard. Nothing under the first
one and just a worm under the second. The worm wasn’t big enough to
scare anybody, not even Mom.
My right thumb started twitching, and that’s when I knew there
was going to be something under the third bush. My bug-finding
feelings were never wrong. When I lifted up the lowest branches, I saw
something laying in the dirt. It looked like a balled up muddy sock.
Then it moved.
I scrunched down and slid the top half of my body under
the bush. Prickles scratched and poked my back through my soccer
jersey. I didn’t care.
I inched closer until I could tell it definitely wasn’t a
muddy sock. It was a jumble of brown and tannish splotches. When I
held my breath to listen, whatever it was made a sound like my dad
snoring only a million times quieter. Then it lifted its head, and I
spied a black nose about the size of the nail on my thumb and the
floppiest ears I’d ever seen. A puppy!
A puppy in my backyard. Like it picked me.
I reached out and touched one of its ears. It was so soft,
but then I remembered watching a show last year about baby animals. I
couldn’t remember if you should touch them or shouldn’t touch them. So
I pulled my hand back and just looked at him. He turned his head and
made a different noise, one that sounded like crying. Why was he
crying? Was he hurt or sick or sad?
“I’ll be right back,” I told the puppy. “I promise.” I
scooted back out from under the bush.
I needed help. And after that, I needed something else. A plan.
I’d been asking for a dog for as long as I could remember,
and since I was turning ten in 18 days, that was a long time. Every
time I asked, Mom said no. She never even had a reason – just no.
I took one step toward the fence between my backyard and
my best friend Katy’s, then stopped. Because even though it was
definitely a ‘tell your best friend first’ thing, Katy was visiting
her grandparents and she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.
My brain finally sent the right answer – the perfect
person to help. I ran around to the front of the house and across the
street. My feet were flying. I took the steps to the front door in one
leap and fell on the doorbell, accidentally ringing it three times. I
hopped from one foot to the other until the door opened kind of hard.
Not the person I needed to see.
“Hi, Mrs. Lucas,” I said, remembering my manners for once.
“Is Dr. Lucas home?”
“Hello, Nate,” she said. Mrs. Lucas stood there and looked
at me – from my black always sticking up hair to my soccer cleats that
still had clumps of grass and dirt in them from the game that morning.
She reached out and pulled a few leaves from my hair.
“He’s not home yet. Is something wrong?” she asked.
Mrs. Lucas called my mom if she saw me riding my bike no
handed with my eyes closed (just for a few seconds). And every
Halloween, she let me know with only a look that I took more candy
from the bowl than I should have. I thought she might secretly hate
kids. I didn’t want to tell her, but since Dr. Lucas wasn’t home, I
had to.
“Well, I was looking for bugs in my backyard and, well,
the biggest and grossest ones are usually under the prickly bushes in
the back…”
Mrs. Lucas just kept looking at me and listening. So I
took a deep breath and kept going.
“I found a puppy. A teeny tiny puppy. And it’s under the
bush. It’s so cute. It’s kind of brown and tan and it has really
floppy ears, and - ”
“A puppy?” Mrs. Lucas leaned around the door and grabbed
something that looked like an old fashioned doctor’s bag. “Was its
mother nearby?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t see a mom – or any other puppies.
Just that one. And it kind of started crying.”
“Did you show your mom?” asked Mrs. Lucas as she stepped
and I jumped off the porch.
“Uh, no.”
Mrs. Lucas gave me one of those ‘you took too much candy’ looks.
“Every time I ask for a pet she says no. But this one must
want to be mine since he’s in our yard and everything. So I need a
plan to get her to say yes,” I said. “I thought Dr. Lucas could help
since he’s an animal doctor and everything.”
I ran out of breath from talking and sort of trotting to
keep up with Mrs. Lucas.
When I started to swerve toward the gate to the backyard,
Mrs. Lucas put her hand on my shoulder and steered me to the front
door instead. She rang the bell and waited, perfectly still. I stood
next to her, not still at all. I bounced on the balls of my feet and
popped my knuckles.
Mom opened the door and smiled at Mrs. Lucas until she saw
me standing next to her. Then the smile slid right off her face. “Oh
Grace, did Nate do something wrong?”
“Not at all. He did something exactly right,” said Mrs.
Lucas. “Nate found a puppy in your backyard and came looking for Andy.
Andy’s not home, so I came.”
“A puppy? In our backyard?” Mom finally looked at me. She
still wasn’t smiling.
“Yep. Under the prickly bushes in the back. Mom, you have
to see it. It’s tiny and it has a little black nose and floppy ears.
Can I keep it? Can I?”
I felt Mrs. Lucas’s hand on my shoulder again. She said,
“Let’s all go around back and take a look, okay? Then we’ll see what
needs to happen next.”
Mom and Mrs. Lucas followed me to the bush. Even though
she was wearing white pants, Mrs. Lucas got down on her belly and slid
under the bush next to me. I pointed to the spot where one of the
puppy’s floppy ears was spread out on the ground. He yawned and
stretched out his front paw until it was almost touching my hand.
I looked at Mrs. Lucas and she nodded. I reached out the
tiniest bit until my finger was up against his paw. It was so soft and
warm.
He was supposed to be mine. I knew it. A hoping feeling
started inside of me and got bigger and bigger until I thought it
might explode out of my belly button.
“He’s just a baby,” said Mrs. Lucas in a softer voice than
her regular one. “If his mom doesn’t come back, he’ll need to be taken
care of.”
I turned my head and said, “Mom, Mrs. Lucas said if the
puppy’s mom doesn’t come back, I’ll need to take care of him.”
Mom crouched down, looked at me and sighed a sigh like
when I got mud on my church pants. “That’s not what she said. She said
someone will have to take care of him.”
She was going to say no even though this puppy picked me.
I looked down at the ground hard so Mrs. Lucas couldn’t see I was
trying not to cry.
The puppy lifted his paw and put it on top of my pinky,
almost like he was holding my hand. I rested my chin on my other arm
and just watched him and listened. He was making a snuffling noise
that would’ve been funny if I hadn’t felt so rotten.
NATE FRIZZLE: BUGS, DOGS AND OTHER THINGS THAT BITE
MG Contemporary
Chapter One
The Best Not-a-Bug Ever
Today was the day I was going to find something extra big
and creepy. I knew it. First I’d figure out what it was, and then I’d
scare Mom with it.
She’d scream for sure. She always did.
I headed straight for my lucky bug finding spot under the
tall, prickly bushes at the end of the yard. Nothing under the first
one and just a worm under the second. The worm wasn’t big enough to
scare anybody, not even Mom.
My right thumb started twitching, and that’s when I knew there
was going to be something under the third bush. My bug-finding
feelings were never wrong. When I lifted up the lowest branches, I saw
something laying in the dirt. It looked like a balled up muddy sock.
Then it moved.
I scrunched down and slid the top half of my body under
the bush. Prickles scratched and poked my back through my soccer
jersey. I didn’t care.
I inched closer until I could tell it definitely wasn’t a
muddy sock. It was a jumble of brown and tannish splotches. When I
held my breath to listen, whatever it was made a sound like my dad
snoring only a million times quieter. Then it lifted its head, and I
spied a black nose about the size of the nail on my thumb and the
floppiest ears I’d ever seen. A puppy!
A puppy in my backyard. Like it picked me.
I reached out and touched one of its ears. It was so soft,
but then I remembered watching a show last year about baby animals. I
couldn’t remember if you should touch them or shouldn’t touch them. So
I pulled my hand back and just looked at him. He turned his head and
made a different noise, one that sounded like crying. Why was he
crying? Was he hurt or sick or sad?
“I’ll be right back,” I told the puppy. “I promise.” I
scooted back out from under the bush.
I needed help. And after that, I needed something else. A plan.
I’d been asking for a dog for as long as I could remember,
and since I was turning ten in 18 days, that was a long time. Every
time I asked, Mom said no. She never even had a reason – just no.
I took one step toward the fence between my backyard and
my best friend Katy’s, then stopped. Because even though it was
definitely a ‘tell your best friend first’ thing, Katy was visiting
her grandparents and she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.
My brain finally sent the right answer – the perfect
person to help. I ran around to the front of the house and across the
street. My feet were flying. I took the steps to the front door in one
leap and fell on the doorbell, accidentally ringing it three times. I
hopped from one foot to the other until the door opened kind of hard.
Not the person I needed to see.
“Hi, Mrs. Lucas,” I said, remembering my manners for once.
“Is Dr. Lucas home?”
“Hello, Nate,” she said. Mrs. Lucas stood there and looked
at me – from my black always sticking up hair to my soccer cleats that
still had clumps of grass and dirt in them from the game that morning.
She reached out and pulled a few leaves from my hair.
“He’s not home yet. Is something wrong?” she asked.
Mrs. Lucas called my mom if she saw me riding my bike no
handed with my eyes closed (just for a few seconds). And every
Halloween, she let me know with only a look that I took more candy
from the bowl than I should have. I thought she might secretly hate
kids. I didn’t want to tell her, but since Dr. Lucas wasn’t home, I
had to.
“Well, I was looking for bugs in my backyard and, well,
the biggest and grossest ones are usually under the prickly bushes in
the back…”
Mrs. Lucas just kept looking at me and listening. So I
took a deep breath and kept going.
“I found a puppy. A teeny tiny puppy. And it’s under the
bush. It’s so cute. It’s kind of brown and tan and it has really
floppy ears, and - ”
“A puppy?” Mrs. Lucas leaned around the door and grabbed
something that looked like an old fashioned doctor’s bag. “Was its
mother nearby?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t see a mom – or any other puppies.
Just that one. And it kind of started crying.”
“Did you show your mom?” asked Mrs. Lucas as she stepped
and I jumped off the porch.
“Uh, no.”
Mrs. Lucas gave me one of those ‘you took too much candy’ looks.
“Every time I ask for a pet she says no. But this one must
want to be mine since he’s in our yard and everything. So I need a
plan to get her to say yes,” I said. “I thought Dr. Lucas could help
since he’s an animal doctor and everything.”
I ran out of breath from talking and sort of trotting to
keep up with Mrs. Lucas.
When I started to swerve toward the gate to the backyard,
Mrs. Lucas put her hand on my shoulder and steered me to the front
door instead. She rang the bell and waited, perfectly still. I stood
next to her, not still at all. I bounced on the balls of my feet and
popped my knuckles.
Mom opened the door and smiled at Mrs. Lucas until she saw
me standing next to her. Then the smile slid right off her face. “Oh
Grace, did Nate do something wrong?”
“Not at all. He did something exactly right,” said Mrs.
Lucas. “Nate found a puppy in your backyard and came looking for Andy.
Andy’s not home, so I came.”
“A puppy? In our backyard?” Mom finally looked at me. She
still wasn’t smiling.
“Yep. Under the prickly bushes in the back. Mom, you have
to see it. It’s tiny and it has a little black nose and floppy ears.
Can I keep it? Can I?”
I felt Mrs. Lucas’s hand on my shoulder again. She said,
“Let’s all go around back and take a look, okay? Then we’ll see what
needs to happen next.”
Mom and Mrs. Lucas followed me to the bush. Even though
she was wearing white pants, Mrs. Lucas got down on her belly and slid
under the bush next to me. I pointed to the spot where one of the
puppy’s floppy ears was spread out on the ground. He yawned and
stretched out his front paw until it was almost touching my hand.
I looked at Mrs. Lucas and she nodded. I reached out the
tiniest bit until my finger was up against his paw. It was so soft and
warm.
He was supposed to be mine. I knew it. A hoping feeling
started inside of me and got bigger and bigger until I thought it
might explode out of my belly button.
“He’s just a baby,” said Mrs. Lucas in a softer voice than
her regular one. “If his mom doesn’t come back, he’ll need to be taken
care of.”
I turned my head and said, “Mom, Mrs. Lucas said if the
puppy’s mom doesn’t come back, I’ll need to take care of him.”
Mom crouched down, looked at me and sighed a sigh like
when I got mud on my church pants. “That’s not what she said. She said
someone will have to take care of him.”
She was going to say no even though this puppy picked me.
I looked down at the ground hard so Mrs. Lucas couldn’t see I was
trying not to cry.
The puppy lifted his paw and put it on top of my pinky,
almost like he was holding my hand. I rested my chin on my other arm
and just watched him and listened. He was making a snuffling noise
that would’ve been funny if I hadn’t felt so rotten.
1st 5 Pages May Workshop -- Hull
Mary Hull
Young adult
Eyes from Heaven
I'll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.
-Anthony and Cleopatra
Preface
Some will discover their true love during their existence on earth. Others may never embrace it with death overcoming them in the end.
In the depths of my dreams I was overpowered by a stronger force taking charge of my destiny and soul. For after we came face to face the essence behind my dreams was unveiled.
When you walk through darkness, how will you find your way?
Chapter 1: Neighbor
The sound of the moving truck awoke me from a restless sleep, one of many since that day in May. Thunder had brought upon a heavy rain, surprising for the month of September, but I awoke to sunlight streaming in through my curtains. I swung my legs out of my bed and walked to my window.
The house next door had been empty for one month since the previous owner, Mr. Culling, a widower in his eighties, had passed away.
Two men, wearing blue uniforms, were unloading boxes from the moving truck parked in the driveway
“Please be careful with those boxes!”
The voice came from one of the upstairs windows directly across from my bedroom. My eyes came upon a boy who didn’t appear much older than myself.
“Thanks, just put the rest in there!” he said, pointing to the detached garage on the side of the house.
To my surprise, he suddenly turned, looking directly at me. I took a step back, my face now concealed behind the white curtain. I wonder if he saw me staring. The only thing separating our houses was the long driveway leading to the garage.
My curiosity stirred, I peeked from the side of the curtain but he was gone. Was he going to live in that enormous house by himself?
I was startled by the loud buzz from my alarm clock. Glancing at the clock, I sighed. School didn’t start for another hour but if I didn’t show up for the meeting the repercussion from mom would be endless.
As I turned to walk into the bathroom my eyes fell upon the small black box perched on my dresser. I must have forgotten to put it back, I thought as my fingers traced the box. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had looked at the contents inside. And so I opened it once more and stared at the mirror image of myself. The same fair skin, green eyes and honey colored hair. The picture was taken in March, two months before the accident.
I jumped at the hard knock on my bedroom door.
“Lily! Are you up yet?”
As my mom walked into the room I tried shoving the box back into the drawer and in my hurry my fingers got caught in the hinge. I pursed my lips, trying to conceal the throbbing sensation.
“I was just going in the shower,” I said, my hand reaching for the door. Please don’t ask about the box, I thought.
She eyed me with her brows lifted. “May I ask what you are doing?”
Why did she feel the need to question everything?
“Nothing, I was just…” I said.
“My dear,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Surely you’re not trying to skip your first day of school are you?”
I tried to look her straight in the eyes but of course I had never been good at keeping things from her. “No, mom,” I said looking away, “It was an accident.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said, reaching over to hug me. “Don’t forget to wear some mascara. Our eyes are the windows to our soul.”
I remained quiet, waiting for her to leave the room.
Here we go again, I thought as I stepped into the shower, the hot water beginning to penetrate my skin. My overprotective mother, assuming she knew her daughter so well.
I realized I had been standing under the hot water for quite some time, for my skin felt like rubber. After drying off I decided to wear khaki pants and a pink blouse. My mom had made it a point to remind me that I was too beautiful to ever choose to dress like a tomboy and growing up I had come to enjoy feeling comfortable in nice clothing. Most of the girls my age I had come across in town were highly fashionable in their taste of clothing and surely I didn’t want to look like an outsider. Even though I totally feel like one, I thought staring at my appearance in the mirror.
My mom was rinsing her coffee mug when I walked into the kitchen. “There’s orange juice and bagels on the table,” she said, eyeing my outfit. Somehow I sensed that the smile on her face meant she approved.
She kissed my forehead before heading out the door. “Oh, and for the sake of my career’s reputation in town please try to be a bit outgoing and make new friends,” she added with a smile.
I didn’t reply, relieved that this one-sided conversation had come to an end. For now. I was more like dad, non-confrontational. My parents would call me their timid child. There was someone, though, who was uninhibited; eager to challenge everything. My brother, Ben.
I stepped outside where the sun’s bright rays welcomed me to my first day of eleventh grade at Meadowcreek High. I had been living in Meadowcreek for 3 months since my parent’s separated back in May. Although my dad, the president of a top newspaper, still lived in our house in Viewbridge, I declined in fear of leaving my mother alone.
As I crossed the intersection in front of the school, my steps faltered. Meadowcreek High appeared ready to engulf me. I had no choice but to endure what the next two years held for me.
“May I help you?” a soft voice asked.
“I have a meeting with Mrs. Cash,” I said hesitantly.
“This way please.” She smiled as she began to walk down the hall. “I’m the librarian, Mrs. Sanders.”
“Hello,” I said softly, trying not to stare at passing students. I felt like a stone wall that had been carved through, my past divulged to all. I had to relinquish in the mere fact that their scrutiny of me was merely a curiosity on their behalf. After all, I was the new girl and knew they would seize upon the interest of discovering the reason of my move to Meadowcreek. A reason I was not ready to reveal
We walked down a long hallway stopping in front of a door labeled Counseling Office. Mrs. Cash’s door was locked and I hesitated, looking over to Mrs. Sanders for some reaction.
“Go ahead and knock, dear,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said and gently knocked on the door.
“Yes, come in please,” a lady said.
Mrs. Cash stood up from her desk and smiled. “May I help you?”
“I’m Lily Casteel,” I said, handing her the letter from school confirming the appointment.
She scanned the note and smiled. “Welcome to Meadowcreek High, Lily. Please sit down.”
Feeling awkward, I sat perched at the edge of the chair.
Young adult
Eyes from Heaven
I'll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.
-Anthony and Cleopatra
Preface
Some will discover their true love during their existence on earth. Others may never embrace it with death overcoming them in the end.
In the depths of my dreams I was overpowered by a stronger force taking charge of my destiny and soul. For after we came face to face the essence behind my dreams was unveiled.
When you walk through darkness, how will you find your way?
Chapter 1: Neighbor
The sound of the moving truck awoke me from a restless sleep, one of many since that day in May. Thunder had brought upon a heavy rain, surprising for the month of September, but I awoke to sunlight streaming in through my curtains. I swung my legs out of my bed and walked to my window.
The house next door had been empty for one month since the previous owner, Mr. Culling, a widower in his eighties, had passed away.
Two men, wearing blue uniforms, were unloading boxes from the moving truck parked in the driveway
“Please be careful with those boxes!”
The voice came from one of the upstairs windows directly across from my bedroom. My eyes came upon a boy who didn’t appear much older than myself.
“Thanks, just put the rest in there!” he said, pointing to the detached garage on the side of the house.
To my surprise, he suddenly turned, looking directly at me. I took a step back, my face now concealed behind the white curtain. I wonder if he saw me staring. The only thing separating our houses was the long driveway leading to the garage.
My curiosity stirred, I peeked from the side of the curtain but he was gone. Was he going to live in that enormous house by himself?
I was startled by the loud buzz from my alarm clock. Glancing at the clock, I sighed. School didn’t start for another hour but if I didn’t show up for the meeting the repercussion from mom would be endless.
As I turned to walk into the bathroom my eyes fell upon the small black box perched on my dresser. I must have forgotten to put it back, I thought as my fingers traced the box. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had looked at the contents inside. And so I opened it once more and stared at the mirror image of myself. The same fair skin, green eyes and honey colored hair. The picture was taken in March, two months before the accident.
I jumped at the hard knock on my bedroom door.
“Lily! Are you up yet?”
As my mom walked into the room I tried shoving the box back into the drawer and in my hurry my fingers got caught in the hinge. I pursed my lips, trying to conceal the throbbing sensation.
“I was just going in the shower,” I said, my hand reaching for the door. Please don’t ask about the box, I thought.
She eyed me with her brows lifted. “May I ask what you are doing?”
Why did she feel the need to question everything?
“Nothing, I was just…” I said.
“My dear,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Surely you’re not trying to skip your first day of school are you?”
I tried to look her straight in the eyes but of course I had never been good at keeping things from her. “No, mom,” I said looking away, “It was an accident.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said, reaching over to hug me. “Don’t forget to wear some mascara. Our eyes are the windows to our soul.”
I remained quiet, waiting for her to leave the room.
Here we go again, I thought as I stepped into the shower, the hot water beginning to penetrate my skin. My overprotective mother, assuming she knew her daughter so well.
I realized I had been standing under the hot water for quite some time, for my skin felt like rubber. After drying off I decided to wear khaki pants and a pink blouse. My mom had made it a point to remind me that I was too beautiful to ever choose to dress like a tomboy and growing up I had come to enjoy feeling comfortable in nice clothing. Most of the girls my age I had come across in town were highly fashionable in their taste of clothing and surely I didn’t want to look like an outsider. Even though I totally feel like one, I thought staring at my appearance in the mirror.
My mom was rinsing her coffee mug when I walked into the kitchen. “There’s orange juice and bagels on the table,” she said, eyeing my outfit. Somehow I sensed that the smile on her face meant she approved.
She kissed my forehead before heading out the door. “Oh, and for the sake of my career’s reputation in town please try to be a bit outgoing and make new friends,” she added with a smile.
I didn’t reply, relieved that this one-sided conversation had come to an end. For now. I was more like dad, non-confrontational. My parents would call me their timid child. There was someone, though, who was uninhibited; eager to challenge everything. My brother, Ben.
I stepped outside where the sun’s bright rays welcomed me to my first day of eleventh grade at Meadowcreek High. I had been living in Meadowcreek for 3 months since my parent’s separated back in May. Although my dad, the president of a top newspaper, still lived in our house in Viewbridge, I declined in fear of leaving my mother alone.
As I crossed the intersection in front of the school, my steps faltered. Meadowcreek High appeared ready to engulf me. I had no choice but to endure what the next two years held for me.
“May I help you?” a soft voice asked.
“I have a meeting with Mrs. Cash,” I said hesitantly.
“This way please.” She smiled as she began to walk down the hall. “I’m the librarian, Mrs. Sanders.”
“Hello,” I said softly, trying not to stare at passing students. I felt like a stone wall that had been carved through, my past divulged to all. I had to relinquish in the mere fact that their scrutiny of me was merely a curiosity on their behalf. After all, I was the new girl and knew they would seize upon the interest of discovering the reason of my move to Meadowcreek. A reason I was not ready to reveal
We walked down a long hallway stopping in front of a door labeled Counseling Office. Mrs. Cash’s door was locked and I hesitated, looking over to Mrs. Sanders for some reaction.
“Go ahead and knock, dear,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said and gently knocked on the door.
“Yes, come in please,” a lady said.
Mrs. Cash stood up from her desk and smiled. “May I help you?”
“I’m Lily Casteel,” I said, handing her the letter from school confirming the appointment.
She scanned the note and smiled. “Welcome to Meadowcreek High, Lily. Please sit down.”
Feeling awkward, I sat perched at the edge of the chair.
1st 5 Pages May Workshop - Soontornvat
Author: Christina Soontornvat
Genre: MG Fantasy
Title: Izzy Doyle and the Changelings of the Edgewood
What do you do when you find yourself sitting down at your own kitchen table with a witch?
Because that was exactly what the cashier at the Piggly Wiggly had called the woman who now sat across from Izzy. When Izzy’s mom had acted like she didn’t hear him, the cashier had said it again.
“That neighbor of yours is a witch, or I’m a bull toad. Some people are scared of her, but I ain’t afraid to speak my mind.”
Izzy’s mom put on her polite smile and zipped up her purse. “I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Malloy yet.”
“Oh it ain’t Mrs. You think anyone would marry her? Shoot, no. She’d as soon put a curse on a man as say hello. Last year she told Old Man Hinkam that on account he built his hog pen on a fairy road, the fairies would make the meat tough.”
Izzy’s mom smirked as she lifted the grocery sacks into the cart.
“You think it’s funny, but sure enough that ham came out like a saddle strap.” The cashier’s voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes scanned side to side. “Do you know what she came in here and bought last week?”
“I can’t ima – “
“Beef tongue. Now I ask you, what kind of person buys that? Put it in a potion or something, I bet. Mind, I’m only tellin’ you this ‘cause you’re new to town, and you got them young kids to look after. See, I ain’t afraid to speak my mind.”
Izzy turned to her little sister. “Hen, tell Mom you need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered.
“But I don’t,” Hen said.
“I know that! It’s just a stalling tactic.”
“So why don’t you do it?”
“Because I’m listening! I want to hear more about the witch.”
This was without a doubt the most interesting thing that had happened since they moved. The possibility of having a witch for a neighbor just might be enough to make up for living in a town with no movie theater, no swimming pools, and – worst of all – no library.
But Izzy’s mother had no interest in such foolishness, and chalked it all up to country superstition. “Can you believe that nonsense?” she had said as they walked to the parking lot. “I so wish this wasn’t the only grocery store in town!” Then she loaded them all up into the car to start the long, pot-hole-riddled drive out to their new, old house.
And now here they all were, two days later, seated around the table with a witch, while their mother poured out cups of tea and smiled as graciously as if she were entertaining one of her socialite friends from their old suburb.
True, this woman didn’t have any of the standard witch traits. And Izzy should know. It was safe to say that she had read every fairy or folktale concerning witches. In fact, she was almost sure she had read every fairytale in existence, and she had the books upstairs in her room to prove it. She knew that witches came in one of two varieties: hunchbacked hag, or cruelly beautiful sorceress. That’s just the way things were.
The woman sitting across from her looked more like a farmer than anything else. Her work clothes bore grass stains, and her fingernails were caked with dirt. Her short, white hair peeked out from under a crumpled men's hat. The only thing remotely witchy about her was that even though the wrinkles on her face put her at least at seventy, she seemed strong and didn’t stoop the way most old people did.
Though she didn’t fit the typical mold, Izzy regarded the old woman skeptically. There was still the chance it was all a clever disguise.
“Marian, we are so very glad that you decided to stop by,” said Izzy’s mom. “My husband works late at his new job, and I’m not used to living so far from any other neighbors. It’s nice to have another adult to talk to.”
“Humph,” said Marian, sniffing at her tea. “Far as I’m concerned, the best thing about living way out here is not having folks to talk to.”
Izzy’s mom laughed as if Marian had made a joke. “You know you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner, if you like.”
Hen’s eyes grew wide as pancakes at this suggestion.
One corner of Marian’s mouth turned up a little before returning to a scowl. “No, I’ve got to get home to my own supper. I only came over because I was driving past your house, which I normally don’t do. I think it’s best that neighbors meet face to face. Prevents problems later on.”
“Oh yes, I agree. Especially when one has children,” said their mom. “These are my girls – Izzy here is twelve, and Hen just turned eight last month.”
Izzy held fast to her skeptical expression while the old woman scanned her up and down. “Twelve? You’re no bigger than a chipmunk.”
“My Izzy’s always been petite,” said her mom.
Izzy cringed. So what if she stood only an inch taller than her little sister? She hated the word petite. It made her feel like a small dessert.
Hen, who had not stopped staring at Marian since she walked in the door, leaned on her elbows toward the center of the table. “How come you wear a man’s hat?” she asked.
Marian cocked one eyebrow, and squinted back at her. “A man was poaching rabbits on my land, so I poached him. His hat was a perfect fit.”
Hen giggled in that way of hers that always won over strangers. “Mom says you’re our neighbor.”
“That’s right. My house is on the other side of the woods from yours.” Marian pointed her finger at Hen’s nose. “You know, this property used to be part of my family’s land, before the Doyle family bought it from us.”
“Really? I never knew that,” said their mom.
“That was years and years ago,” said Marian, waving her hand in the air. She regarded the kitchen disapprovingly. “I see you’re already making improvements to the house.”
“Oh yes. This rustic style really isn’t for me. Still, I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Most people would be thrilled to inherit a big farmhouse in the woods.” Izzy’s mother sighed as if to say she did not count herself as one of these people. “Before we inherited the house, the last time we were here was when Izzy was born. Right over there in the living room, as a matter of fact.”
Marian narrowed her eyes at Izzy. “You were born in this house?”
Izzy shrugged and nodded. She braced herself for her mom’s melodramatic retelling of her birth. Why couldn’t she have just been born in a hospital, like everyone else?
Genre: MG Fantasy
Title: Izzy Doyle and the Changelings of the Edgewood
What do you do when you find yourself sitting down at your own kitchen table with a witch?
Because that was exactly what the cashier at the Piggly Wiggly had called the woman who now sat across from Izzy. When Izzy’s mom had acted like she didn’t hear him, the cashier had said it again.
“That neighbor of yours is a witch, or I’m a bull toad. Some people are scared of her, but I ain’t afraid to speak my mind.”
Izzy’s mom put on her polite smile and zipped up her purse. “I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Malloy yet.”
“Oh it ain’t Mrs. You think anyone would marry her? Shoot, no. She’d as soon put a curse on a man as say hello. Last year she told Old Man Hinkam that on account he built his hog pen on a fairy road, the fairies would make the meat tough.”
Izzy’s mom smirked as she lifted the grocery sacks into the cart.
“You think it’s funny, but sure enough that ham came out like a saddle strap.” The cashier’s voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes scanned side to side. “Do you know what she came in here and bought last week?”
“I can’t ima – “
“Beef tongue. Now I ask you, what kind of person buys that? Put it in a potion or something, I bet. Mind, I’m only tellin’ you this ‘cause you’re new to town, and you got them young kids to look after. See, I ain’t afraid to speak my mind.”
Izzy turned to her little sister. “Hen, tell Mom you need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered.
“But I don’t,” Hen said.
“I know that! It’s just a stalling tactic.”
“So why don’t you do it?”
“Because I’m listening! I want to hear more about the witch.”
This was without a doubt the most interesting thing that had happened since they moved. The possibility of having a witch for a neighbor just might be enough to make up for living in a town with no movie theater, no swimming pools, and – worst of all – no library.
But Izzy’s mother had no interest in such foolishness, and chalked it all up to country superstition. “Can you believe that nonsense?” she had said as they walked to the parking lot. “I so wish this wasn’t the only grocery store in town!” Then she loaded them all up into the car to start the long, pot-hole-riddled drive out to their new, old house.
And now here they all were, two days later, seated around the table with a witch, while their mother poured out cups of tea and smiled as graciously as if she were entertaining one of her socialite friends from their old suburb.
True, this woman didn’t have any of the standard witch traits. And Izzy should know. It was safe to say that she had read every fairy or folktale concerning witches. In fact, she was almost sure she had read every fairytale in existence, and she had the books upstairs in her room to prove it. She knew that witches came in one of two varieties: hunchbacked hag, or cruelly beautiful sorceress. That’s just the way things were.
The woman sitting across from her looked more like a farmer than anything else. Her work clothes bore grass stains, and her fingernails were caked with dirt. Her short, white hair peeked out from under a crumpled men's hat. The only thing remotely witchy about her was that even though the wrinkles on her face put her at least at seventy, she seemed strong and didn’t stoop the way most old people did.
Though she didn’t fit the typical mold, Izzy regarded the old woman skeptically. There was still the chance it was all a clever disguise.
“Marian, we are so very glad that you decided to stop by,” said Izzy’s mom. “My husband works late at his new job, and I’m not used to living so far from any other neighbors. It’s nice to have another adult to talk to.”
“Humph,” said Marian, sniffing at her tea. “Far as I’m concerned, the best thing about living way out here is not having folks to talk to.”
Izzy’s mom laughed as if Marian had made a joke. “You know you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner, if you like.”
Hen’s eyes grew wide as pancakes at this suggestion.
One corner of Marian’s mouth turned up a little before returning to a scowl. “No, I’ve got to get home to my own supper. I only came over because I was driving past your house, which I normally don’t do. I think it’s best that neighbors meet face to face. Prevents problems later on.”
“Oh yes, I agree. Especially when one has children,” said their mom. “These are my girls – Izzy here is twelve, and Hen just turned eight last month.”
Izzy held fast to her skeptical expression while the old woman scanned her up and down. “Twelve? You’re no bigger than a chipmunk.”
“My Izzy’s always been petite,” said her mom.
Izzy cringed. So what if she stood only an inch taller than her little sister? She hated the word petite. It made her feel like a small dessert.
Hen, who had not stopped staring at Marian since she walked in the door, leaned on her elbows toward the center of the table. “How come you wear a man’s hat?” she asked.
Marian cocked one eyebrow, and squinted back at her. “A man was poaching rabbits on my land, so I poached him. His hat was a perfect fit.”
Hen giggled in that way of hers that always won over strangers. “Mom says you’re our neighbor.”
“That’s right. My house is on the other side of the woods from yours.” Marian pointed her finger at Hen’s nose. “You know, this property used to be part of my family’s land, before the Doyle family bought it from us.”
“Really? I never knew that,” said their mom.
“That was years and years ago,” said Marian, waving her hand in the air. She regarded the kitchen disapprovingly. “I see you’re already making improvements to the house.”
“Oh yes. This rustic style really isn’t for me. Still, I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Most people would be thrilled to inherit a big farmhouse in the woods.” Izzy’s mother sighed as if to say she did not count herself as one of these people. “Before we inherited the house, the last time we were here was when Izzy was born. Right over there in the living room, as a matter of fact.”
Marian narrowed her eyes at Izzy. “You were born in this house?”
Izzy shrugged and nodded. She braced herself for her mom’s melodramatic retelling of her birth. Why couldn’t she have just been born in a hospital, like everyone else?
Saturday, 5 May 2012
1st 5 Pages May Workshop Is Open for Submissions
The May First Five Pages workshop will open for submissions at noon today. The details are here:
First Five Pages Workshop Details
In a nutshell, we'll take the first five Young Adult or Middle Grade entries of no more than 1250 emailed to us in t he body of an email sent to us in RTF format (no attachments!) that have the author's name, the title of the work, and the genre of the work clearly labeled at the top. Email it to kidlit at writeedge.com. Please be sure to read the complete rules because we will not be able to reformat entries for you. Please also be certain that you are willing to work on the manuscript all month and that you are willing and able to provide constructive feedback to the other workshop participants.
The guest mentor this month will be Kat Zhang. See below for information on her debut novel!
WHAT'S LEFT OF ME
by Kat Zhang
Publication Date: September 18, 2012
HarperCollins
Eva and Addie started out the same way as everyone else--two souls woven together in one body, taking turns controlling their movements as they learned how to walk, how to sing, how to dance. But as they grew, so did the worried whispers. Why aren't they settling? Why isn't one of them fading? The doctors ran tests, the neighbors shied away, and their parents begged for more time. Finally Addie was pronounced healthy and Eva was declared gone. Except, she wasn't...
For the past three years, Eva has clung to the remnants of her life. Only Addie knows she's still there, trapped inside their body. Then one day, they discover there may be a way for Eva to move again. The risks are unimaginable-hybrids are considered a threat to society, so if they are caught, Addie and Eva will be locked away with the others. And yet...for a chance to smile, to twirl, to speak, Eva will do anything.
Happy writing this week, everyone!
First Five Pages Workshop Details
In a nutshell, we'll take the first five Young Adult or Middle Grade entries of no more than 1250 emailed to us in t he body of an email sent to us in RTF format (no attachments!) that have the author's name, the title of the work, and the genre of the work clearly labeled at the top. Email it to kidlit at writeedge.com. Please be sure to read the complete rules because we will not be able to reformat entries for you. Please also be certain that you are willing to work on the manuscript all month and that you are willing and able to provide constructive feedback to the other workshop participants.
The guest mentor this month will be Kat Zhang. See below for information on her debut novel!
WHAT'S LEFT OF ME
by Kat Zhang
Publication Date: September 18, 2012
HarperCollins
Eva and Addie started out the same way as everyone else--two souls woven together in one body, taking turns controlling their movements as they learned how to walk, how to sing, how to dance. But as they grew, so did the worried whispers. Why aren't they settling? Why isn't one of them fading? The doctors ran tests, the neighbors shied away, and their parents begged for more time. Finally Addie was pronounced healthy and Eva was declared gone. Except, she wasn't...
For the past three years, Eva has clung to the remnants of her life. Only Addie knows she's still there, trapped inside their body. Then one day, they discover there may be a way for Eva to move again. The risks are unimaginable-hybrids are considered a threat to society, so if they are caught, Addie and Eva will be locked away with the others. And yet...for a chance to smile, to twirl, to speak, Eva will do anything.
Happy writing this week, everyone!
Friday, 4 May 2012
YA Books in Stores Next Week Plus Giveaway 5/4/12
THIS WEEK'S GIVEAWAY
When 17-year-old Jamie arrives on the idyllic New England island of Little Bly to work as a summer au pair, she is stunned to learn of the horror that precedes her. Seeking the truth surrounding a young couple's tragic deaths, Jamie discovers that she herself looks shockingly like the dead girl—and that she has a disturbing ability to sense the two ghosts. Why is Jamie's connection to the couple so intense? What really happened last summer at Little Bly? As the secrets of the house wrap tighter and tighter around her, Jamie must navigate the increasingly blurred divide between the worlds of the living and the dead.
Brilliantly plotted, with startling twists, here is a thrilling page-turner from the award-winning Adele Griffin.
LAST WEEK'S GIVEAWAY
The winner of last week's giveaway is Raelena Pavey. She will win:
Unraveling by Elizabeth Norris
But her revival, and Ben's possible role in it, is only the first of the puzzles that Janelle must solve. While snooping in her FBI agent father's files for clues about her accident, she uncovers a clock that seems to be counting down to something—but to what? And when someone close to Janelle is killed, she can no longer deny what's right in front of her: Everything that's happened—the accident, the murder, the countdown clock, Ben's sudden appearance in her life—points to the end of life as she knows it. And as the clock ticks down, she realizes that if she wants to put a stop to the end of the world, she's going to need to uncover Ben's secrets—and keep from falling in love with him in the process.
From debut author Elizabeth Norris comes this shattering novel of one girl's fight to save herself, her world, and the boy she never saw coming.
IN STORES NEXT WEEK
Back and Deader Than Ever by Lisi Harrison
The RADs are free and Draculaura (Lala) is flashing her fangs with pride. But when Daddy Drac pays her a surprise visit everything goes batty. Mr. D. thinks RADs should have their own school, but Lala isn't ready to give up the rights they fought so hard for.
It's father against daughter in a battle for Salem's student body. Despite the many challenges, Lala is determined to save Merston High. But she might die twice while trying.
The Princesses of Iowa by M. Molly Backes
What does it mean to do wrong, when no one punishes you? A smart and unflinching look at friendship, the nature of entitlement, and growing up in the heartland.
Paige Sheridan has the perfect life. She's pretty, rich, and popular, and her spot on the homecoming court is practically guaranteed. But when a night of partying ends in an it-could-have-been-so-much worse crash , everything changes. Her best friends start ignoring her, her boyfriend grows cold and distant, and her once-adoring younger sister now views her with contempt. The only bright spot is
her creative writing class, led by a charismatic new teacher who encourages students to be true to themselves. But who is Paige, if not the homecoming princess everyone expects her to be? In this arresting and witty debut, a girl who was once high-school royalty must face a truth that money and status can't fix, and choose between living the privileged life of a princess, or owning up to her mistakes and giving up everything she once held dear.
See You at Harry's by Jo KnowlesStarting middle school brings all the usual challenges - until the unthinkable happens, and Fern and her family must find a way to heal.
Twelve-year-old Fern feels invisible. It seems as though everyone in her family has better things to do than pay attention to her: Mom (when she's not meditating) helps Dad run the family restaurant; Sarah is taking a gap year after high school; and Holden pretends that Mom and Dad and everyone else doesn't know he's gay, even as he fends off bullies at school. Then there's Charlie: three years old, a "surprise" baby, the center of everyone's world. He's devoted to Fern, but he's annoying, too, always getting his way, always dirty, always commanding attention. If it wasn't for Ran, Fern's calm and positive best friend, there'd be nowhere to turn. Ran's mantra, "All will be well," is soothing in a way that nothing else seems to be. And when Ran says it, Fern can almost believe it's true. But then tragedy strikes- and Fern feels not only more alone than ever, but also responsible for the accident that has wrenched her family apart. All will not be well. Or at least all will never be the same
(Need)
It’s all-out war (and no-holds-barred romance) in the climactic conclusion to Carrie Jones’s bestselling series.
Zara is at the center of an impending apocalypse. True, she’s successfully rescued Nick from Valhalla, but it simply isn’t enough. Evil pixies are ravaging Bedford, and they need much more than one great warrior; they need an army. Zara isn’t sure what her role is anymore. She’s not just fighting for her friends; she’s also a pixie queen. And to align her team of pixies with the humans she loves will be one of her greatest battles yet. Especially since she can’t even reconcile her growing feelings for her pixie king . . .
Unexpected turns, surprising revelations, and one utterly satisfying romantic finale make Endure a thrilling end to this series of bestsellers.
Like his name, Gray is dark and stormy. Dylan, a girl always searching for what’s next, seemingly unable to settle down, is the exact opposite: full of light and life. On the outside, they seem like an unlikely couple. But looks can be deceiving and besides, opposites attract.
What starts as friendship, turns into admiration, respect and caring, until finally these two lone souls find they are truly in love with each other.
But staying in love is not as easy as falling in love. If Dylan and Gray want their love to last, they’re going to have to work at it. And learn that sometimes love means having to say you’re sorry
Happily ever after is a thing of the past.
A series of natural disasters has decimated the earth. Cut off from the rest of the world, England is a dark place. The sun rarely shines, food is scarce, and groups of criminals roam the woods, searching for prey. The people are growing restless.
When a ruthless revolutionary sets out to overthrow the crown, he makes the royal family his first target. Blood is shed in Buckingham Palace, and only sixteen-year-old Princess Eliza manages to escape.
Determined to kill the man who destroyed her family, Eliza joins the enemy forces in disguise. She has nothing left to live for but revenge, until she meets someone who helps her remember how to hope—and to love—once more. Now she must risk everything to ensure that she not become... The Last Princess
A story of crushes, corsets, and conspiracy
Libby Kelting had always felt herself born out of time. No wonder the historical romance-reading, Jane Austen-adaptation-watching, all-around history nerd jumped at the chance to intern at Camden Harbor, Maine’s Oldest Living History Museum. But at Camden Harbor Libby’s just plain out of place, no matter how cute she looks in a corset. Her cat-loving coworker wants her dead, the too-smart-for-his-own-good local reporter keeps pushing her buttons, her gorgeous sailor may be more shipwreck than dreamboat — plus Camden Harbor’s haunted. Over the course of one unforgettable summer, Libby learns that boys, like ghosts, aren’t always what they seem.
Teenage twins Ysabel and Justin Nicholas are lucky. Ysabel's jewelry designs have already caught the eyes of the art world and Justin's intelligence and drive are sure to gain him entrance into the most prestigious of colleges. They even like their parents. But their father has a secret—one that threatens to destroy the twins' happy family and life as they know it.
Over the course of spring break, Ysabel and Justin will be forced to come to terms with their dad's new life, but can they overcome their fears to piece together their happy family again?
“Would you rather be dead and know it, or alive and not know it?”
Scilla Davis is haunted by a horrible accident that she was involved in last summer—a drunken, reckless joyride that ended in tragedy. With a big trial looming, life seems empty, unreal, and utterly hopeless. It’s especially painful watching her best friend, Willow, slowly destroy herself with pills and booze. Yet Scilla can’t seem to wrest Willow—or herself—from a path of self-destruction.
But there might be a possible escape from this nightmare. As a dangerous new drug called Ferocity sweeps the nation, an FBI agent asks Scilla to turn narc and help locate the Ferocity kingpin. In exchange, she could avoid conviction for her role in the accident. All she has to do is deceive and betray people she’s known all her life . . .
Aly King is about to fall for the fallen
My best friend, Des, and I totally freaked when we won the contest to meet THE Dakota Danvers in Hollywood. But now we’re finding out he’s SO not the angel everyone believes him to be. In fact, Dakota is the son of Satan, wreaking havoc on Hollywood and creating an evil army hellbent on world domination.
Lucky for us, Dakota’s super-cute personal assistant, Jameson, is a fallen angel trying to get his wings back, and he’s working undercover to squash his demon boss’s plan. If Jameson hadn’t taken me under his wing I’d be in serious trouble, because I’m a total newb when it comes to conquering evil. But, truth be told, that sexy angel’s got me all aflutter and may be one temptation I can’t resist.
Mia Price is a lightning addict. She's survived countless strikes, but her craving to connect to the energy in storms endangers her life and the lives of those around her.
Los Angeles, where lightning rarely strikes, is one of the few places Mia feels safe from her addiction. But when an earthquake devastates the city, her haven is transformed into a minefield of chaos and danger. The beaches become massive tent cities. Downtown is a crumbling wasteland, where a traveling party moves to a different empty building each night, the revelers drawn to the destruction by a force they cannot deny. Two warring cults rise to power, and both see Mia as the key to their opposing doomsday prophecies. They believe she has a connection to the freak electrical storm that caused the quake, and to the far more devastating storm that is yet to come.
Mia wants to trust the enigmatic and alluring Jeremy when he promises to protect her, but she fears he isn't who he claims to be. In the end, the passion and power that brought them together could be their downfall. When the final disaster strikes, Mia must risk unleashing the full horror of her strength to save the people she loves, or lose everything.(
It isn't easy being the rather overlooked and unhappy youngest sibling to sisters named for the other six days of the week. Sunday’s only comfort is writing stories, although what she writes has a terrible tendency to come true.
When Sunday meets an enchanted frog who asks about her stories, the two become friends. Soon that friendship deepens into something magical. One night Sunday kisses her frog goodbye and leaves, not realizing that her love has transformed him back into Rumbold, the crown prince of Arilland—and a man Sunday’s family despises.
The prince returns to his castle, intent on making Sunday fall in love with him as the man he is, not the frog he was. But Sunday is not so easy to woo. How can she feel such a strange, strong attraction for this prince she barely knows? And what twisted secrets lie hidden in his past - and hers?
Grace always has a plan. There’s her plan to get famous, her plan to get rich, and—above all—her plan to have fun.
Sawyer has plenty of plans too. Plans made for him by his mother, his father, his girlfriend. Maybe they aren’t his plans, but they are plans.
When Sawyer meets Grace, he wonders if he should come up with a few plans himself. Plans about what he actually wants to be, plans to speak his own mind for a change, plans to maybe help Grace with a little art theft.
Wait a minute—plans to what?
Mackenzie and Amy were best friends. Until Amy was brutally murdered.
Since then, Mac’s life has been turned upside down. She is being haunted by Amy in her dreams, and an extremist group called the Trackers has come to Mac’s hometown of Hemlock to hunt down Amy’s killer: A white werewolf.
Lupine syndrome—also known as the werewolf virus—is on the rise across the country. Many of the infected try to hide their symptoms, but bloodlust is not easy to control.
Wanting desperately to put an end to her nightmares, Mac decides to investigate Amy’s murder herself. She discovers secrets lurking in the shadows of Hemlock, secrets about Amy’s boyfriend, Jason, her good pal Kyle, and especially her late best friend. Mac is thrown into a maelstrom of violence and betrayal that puts her life at risk.
Kathleen Peacock’s thrilling novel is the first in the Hemlock trilogy, a spellbinding urban fantasy series filled with provocative questions about prejudice, trust, lies, and love.
Everyone thinks Evan is sick . . . Everyone thinks science will find a cure. But Evan knows he is not sick; he is transforming. Evan’s metamorphosis has him confined to his bed, constantly terrified, and completely alone. Alone except for his visits from the Wuftoom, a wormlike creature that tells him he is becoming one of them. Clinging to his humanity and desperate to help his overworked single mother, Evan makes a bargain with the Vitflies, the sworn enemies of the Wuftoom. But when the bargain becomes blackmail and the Vitflies prepare for war, whom can Evan trust? Is saving his humanity worth destroying an entire species, and the only family he has left?(
(Mortal Instruments)
The demon Lilith has been destroyed and Jace has been freed from her captivity. But when the Shadowhunters arrive to rescue him, they find only blood and broken glass. Not only is the boy Clary loves missing–but so is the boy she hates, Sebastian, the son of her father Valentine: a son determined to succeed where their father failed, and bring the Shadowhunters to their knees.
No magic the Clave can summon can locate either boy, but Jace cannot stay away—not from Clary. When they meet again Clary discovers the horror Lilith’s dying magic has wrought—Jace is no longer the boy she loved. He and Sebastian are now bound to each other, and Jace has become what he most feared: a true servant of Valentine’s evil. The Clave is determined to destroy Sebastian, but there is no way to harm one boy without destroying the other. Will the Shadowhunters hesitate to kill one of their own?
Only a small band of Clary and Jace’s friends and family believe that Jace can still be saved — and that the fate of the Shadowhunters’ future may hinge on that salvation. They must defy the Clave and strike out on their own. Alec, Magnus, Simon and Isabelle must work together to save Jace: bargaining with the sinister Faerie Queen, contemplating deals with demons, and turning at last to the Iron Sisters, the reclusive and merciless weapons makers for the Shadowhunters, who tell them that no weapon on this earth can sever the bond between Sebastian and Jace. Their only chance of cutting Jace free is to challenge Heaven and Hell — a risk that could claim any, or all, of their lives.
And they must do it without Clary. For Clary has gone into the heart of darkness, to play a dangerous game utterly alone. The price of losing the game is not just her own life, but Jace’s soul. She’s willing to do anything for Jace, but can she even still trust him? Or is he truly lost? What price is too high to pay, even for love?
Darkness threatens to claim the Shadowhunters in the harrowing fifth book of the Mortal Instruments series.
Taylor’s family might not be the closest-knit – everyone is a little too busy and overscheduled – but for the most part, they get along fine. Then they get news that changes everything: Her father has pancreatic cancer, and it’s stage four – meaning that there is basically nothing to be done. Her parents decide that the family will spend his last months together at their old summerhouse in the Pocono Mountains.
Crammed into a place much smaller and more rustic than they are used to, they begin to get to know each other again. And Taylor discovers that the people she thought she had left behind haven’t actually gone anywhere. Her former summer best friend is suddenly around, as is her first boyfriend. . . and he’s much cuter at seventeen than he was at twelve.
As the summer progresses, the Edwards become more of a family, and closer than they’ve ever been before. But all of them very aware that they’re battling a ticking clock. Sometimes, though, there is just enough time to get a second chance – with family, with friends, and with love.
It’s the summer before senior year and the alluring Angel is ready to have fun. She’s not like her best friend, Inggy, who has a steady boyfriend, good grades, and college plans. Angel isn’t sure what she wants to do yet, but she has confidence and experience beyond her years. Still, her summer doesn’t start out as planned. Her good friend Joey doesn’t want to fool around anymore, he wants to be her boyfriend, while Angel doesn’t want to be tied down. As Joey pulls away, and Inggy tours colleges, Angel finds herself spending more time with Inggy’s boyfriend, Cork. With its cast of vivid and memorable characters, this tale from the Jersey shore is sure to make some waves.
(How a Girl of Spirit and a Red Dog Confound Their Friends, Astound Their Enemies, and Learn the Importance of Packing Light)
Despite her troublesome attraction to magick, Flora Fyrdraaca has — more or less — spent her life doing what's been expected of her. Yet now, at sixteen, she knows that this path has been strewn with secrets. Secrets have kept her from following her passion of becoming a ranger, of perfecting her use of magick, of proclaiming her hidden identity. But Flora has had enough of living with lies.
Convinced that her true mother, Tiny Doom — long believed to have been killed by the evil Birdies — is alive, Flora becomes determined to find her. Doing so will allow Flora to leave behind the lies her false mother, Buck Fyrdraaca, has told her about who she is. She can shake off the slavish drudgery of being a lowly lieutenant in the Army of Califa. And she need never again speak to her former best friend (and recent love) Udo — he's become a total snapperhead. Instead, Flora and her red dog, Flynn, are thrown into a journey that takes them to the high seas, onto lawless islands, and into the deadly desert. It's an adventure filled with pirate battles, magickal encounters, and an unexpected romance with a brooding stranger who reveals himself to be a kindred spirit. And it all becomes far more dangerous when Flora realizes how desperately the Birdies want Tiny Doom — and Flora herself — dead.
Kate and Vincent have overcome the odds and at last they are together in Paris, the city of lights and love.
As their romance deepens there’s one question they can’t ignore: How are they supposed to be together if Vincent can’t resist sacrificing himself to save others? Although Vincent promises that he’ll do whatever it takes to lead a normal life with Kate, will that mean letting innocent people die? When a new and surprising enemy reveals itself, Kate realizes that even more may be at stake—and that Vincent’s immortality is in jeopardy.
In Die for Me, Amy Plum created a captivating paranormal mythology with immortal revenants and a lush Paris setting. Until I Die is poised to thrill readers with more heart-pounding suspense, spellbinding romance, and a cliff-hanger ending that will leave them desperate for the third and final novel in the series
Eliza dreams of being a playwright for the king’s theater, where she will be admired for her witty turns of phrase rather than her father’s wealth. Beth is beautiful as the day but poor as a church mouse, so she must marry well, despite her love for her childhood sweetheart. Zabby comes to England to further her scientific studies—and ends up saving the life of King Charles II. Soon her friendship with him becomes a dangerous, impossible obsession. Though she knows she should stay away from the young, handsome king, Charles has a new bride, Queen Catherine, and a queen needs ladies in waiting. And so Zabby, Beth, and Eliza, three Elizabeths from very different walks of life, find themselves at the center of the most scandal-filled court that England has ever seen.
I'm Adrienne Haus, survivor of a mother-daughter book club. Most of us didn't want to join. My mother signed me up because I was stuck at home all summer, with my knee in a brace. CeeCee's parents forced her to join after cancelling her Paris trip because she bashed up their car. The members of "The Unbearable Book Club," CeeCee, Jill, Wallis, and I, were all going into eleventh grade A.P. English. But we weren't friends. We were literary prisoners, sweating, reading classics, and hanging out at the pool. If you want to find out how membership in a book club can end up with a person being dead, you can probably look us up under mother-daughter literary catastrophe. Or open this book and read my essay, which I'll turn in when I go back to school.
(Abandon)
Escape from the realm of the dead is impossible when someone there wants you back.
Seventeen-year-old Pierce Oliviera isn’t dead.
Not this time.
But she is being held against her will in the dim, twilit world between heaven and hell, where the spirits of the deceased wait before embarking upon their final journey.
Her captor, John Hayden, claims it’s for her own safety. Because not all the departed are dear. Some are so unhappy with where they ended up after leaving the Underworld, they’ve come back as Furies, intent on vengeance…on the one who sent them there and on the one whom he loves.
But while Pierce might be safe from the Furies in the Underworld, far worse dangers could be lurking for her there…and they might have more to do with its ruler than with his enemies.
And unless Pierce is careful, this time there’ll be no escape.
A devastating loss leads to an unexpected road trip in this novel from the author of Moonglass, whose voice Sarah Dessen says “is fresh and wise, all at once.”
Hours after her brother’s military funeral, Honor opens the last letter Finn ever sent. In her grief, she interprets his note as a final request and spontaneously decides to go to California to fulfill it.
Honor gets as far as the driveway before running into Rusty, Finn’s best friend since third grade and his polar opposite. She hasn’t seen Rusty in ages, but it’s obvious he is as arrogant and stubborn as ever—not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. Despite Honor’s better judgment, the two set off together on a voyage from Texas to California. Along the way, they find small and sometimes surprising ways to ease their shared loss and honor Finn’s memory—but when shocking truths are revealed at the end of the road, will either of them be able to cope with the consequences?
As a little girl, Daisy Appleby was killed in a school bus crash. Moments after the accident, she was brought back to life.
A secret government agency has developed a drug called Revive that can bring people back from the dead, and Daisy Appleby, a test subject, has been Revived five times in fifteen years. Daisy takes extraordinary risks, knowing that she can beat death, but each new death also means a new name, a new city, and a new life. When she meets Matt McKean, Daisy begins to question the moral implications of Revive, and as she discovers the agency’s true goals, she realizes she’s at the center of something much larger—and more sinister—than she ever imagined.
When soldiers arrive in his hometown in Cambodia, Arn is just a kid, dancing to rock ’n’ roll, hustling for spare change, and selling ice cream with his brother. But after the soldiers march the entire population into the countryside, Arn's life is changed forever. He is separated from his family and assigned to a labor camp; working in the rice paddies under a blazing sun, he sees the other children, weak from hunger, malaria, or sheer exhaustion, dying before his eyes. He sees prisoners marched to a nearby mango grove, never to return. And he learns to become invisible to the sadistic Khmer Rouge, who can give or take away life on a whim.
One day, the soldiers ask if any of the kids can play an instrument. Arn’s never played a note in his life, but he volunteers. In order to survive, he must quickly master the strange revolutionary songs the soldiers demand—and steal food to keep the other kids alive. This decision will save his life, but it will pull him into the very center of what we know today as the Killing Fields. And just as the country is about to...
Elizabeth Margaret—better known as Em—has always known what life would contain: an internship at her father’s firm, a degree from Harvard and a career as a lawyer. The only problem is that it’s not what she wants. When she gets the opportunity to get away from it all and spend a month with the aunt she never knew, she jumps at the chance. While there, Em pursues her secret dream of being a chef, and she also learns that her family has kept some significant secrets from her, too. And then there’s Cade, the laid-back local surfer boy who seems to be everything Em isn't. Naturally, she can’t resist him, and as their romance blossoms, Em feels she is living on her own terms for the first time
Beauty by Lisa Daily
What's it like to be the most beautiful girl in the world?
Molly desperately wants to be beautiful. And that's what she tells Dharma, the mysterious portrait artist who sketches her face at the town fair just minutes after she's humiliated in front of Hudson, the guy of her dreams. When Molly wakes up the following morning, she's the most beautiful girl in Miracle, Ohio. Babies coo in her arms, her house fills with flowers from dozens of drooling boys, and she's chosen to be a model for the hottest store in town. Best of all, Hudson finally falls for her.
But Molly soon discovers that beauty--and her wish--comes with a price. She's faced with an impossible choice: Will reclaiming her true identity mean letting go of Hudson for good?(
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
WOW Wednesday: Jennifer Shaw Wolf on Upping Your Level of Professionalism
Upping Your Level of Professionalism
By Jennifer Shaw Wolf
I started writing for fun. Yes, I’ve always thought it would be cool to be a real writer and have a book published, but when I wrote my first manuscript I wrote it for me. I wanted to see if I could do it. I didn’t join any writing groups, I didn’t go to conferences, I didn’t pour over blogs and agent interviews, or news from the publishing industry to see what was and wasn’t selling. I just wrote it.
When I was about half way through the story, I e-mailed it to my niece who was then 13, and ask her what she thought of it. She wrote back, “Is there any more?
So I kept sending her stuff. I would e-mail her a chapter or two as I finished them. She didn’t ever give me any critique or feedback, she would only say, “Is there any more?” or sometimes, “Write faster.” That’s how I finished my first full manuscript. I enjoyed every moment of writing it.
For me, this was a great way to begin. I was able to write without the fear of rejection or wondering if I would get an agent or if it would sell, or wondering if it was any good. I wrote for the sheer joy of telling myself (and my niece) a story.
But that wasn’t the manuscript I sold.
By the time I’d finished my third manuscript, BREAKING BEAUTIFUL, (originally TIGERSEYE), I had joined SCBWI, I had taken a couple of writing classes, and I met regularly with a critique group. I still wrote for the sheer joy of it, but I’d learned a lot about writing and the process it took to get published.
The big change, for me, going from being a writer to an author is the amount of “work” I have to put in. Before writing was my hobby so I wrote when I had a spare moment or when I felt like it, (which, if you talk to my family, was all the time). Now, when I write, I’m writing to fill a deadline or to advance to the next thing.
I’m fighting the idea that writing is now a job, and I’m doing everything I can to keep it from being work. I still love to write. I’d still rather write than do just about anything, but when I write it’s not just about me, (or me and my niece), anymore. I have an agent who’s waiting to sell my next book. I have an editor who has to answer to a marketing department and a slew of other people about how my book is going to make the company money. Soon I’ll have readers, (fingers crossed), who are entertained and maybe even influenced by what I write. Hopefully they will be looking forward to reading something else I’ve written.
As an author, I have to think about things I didn’t worry about when I was just writing for fun. Things like contracts and deadlines, and blogs, and self-marketing, and whether my WIP is a good follow up to what I’ve already written.
So, my advice for an aspiring author is “Never Give Up.” I know this is a cliché, but it’s true. The publishing world is changing every day. There are so many opportunities for a writer to become published now, so if this is your dream, don’t ever give up.
That doesn’t mean the level of professionalism or the quality of your work should go down because anyone can be a published author. In fact, I think it means your level of professionalism and the quality of your work has to go up.
If you really want to be a published author, even if you self-publish, (especially if you self-publish), you need to take writing classes, you need to join a critique group, you need to get editing help, and you need to study the publishing market and know how to market yourself and your books.
BUT, above all write because you enjoy it. Very few people will make a bunch of money, or even enough to pay all the bills by writing. You have to do it because you love it.
I go back to where I started with my first novel, written in complete and blissful naiveté . I’ve learned a lot since then, but what I can’t forget is that ultimately I’m a writer and an author because I love to write.
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