Free writing workshop for aspiring authors of young adult and middle grade fiction. The first five pages may be all that agents, editors, and readers read, so get them right with the help of three authors over the course of three weeks. During the third week, an agent will also critique your pages and your pitch and pick a workshop winner - the prize is a partial request!
Hey everyone - something got messed up with Kim's submission. I just posted the new one as (second attempt) please read that. So sorry for the inconvience! Erin Name: Kim Pierson
Genre: New Adult Contemporary
Title: Skipping, Jumping, Leaping
I felt the guy’s eyes on me before I saw him. Don’t look up, I told myself.
But I did. I always did. It was like taking a really stupid dare. I knew that nothing good could come of it, and still I couldn’t resist. I’m not sure if that makes me crazy or just stupid.
His eyes were waiting for mine. Here we go, I thought. He stood up as soon as he made eye contact, taking it as an invitation, or a challenge, maybe. He started walking over, his lanky frame temporarily eclipsing part of the limp “Welcome Future Class of 1999” banner that hung across the rec center wall. Then he stopped to pull out a flask and take a not-so-discrete gulp. One of his buddies slapped him a high five.
The color of a penny. My sister had said that about my hair, too, back when I was about six. Then she shook her head sadly and added that it was too bad that all copper eventually turned green, like the Statue of Liberty. I’d checked the mirror every morning for over a year, hoping to catch a verdant glimmer. No such luck.
I squeezed my eyes together tightly, making everything go black. I thought I’d managed to block out my memories of my sister.
Except apparently I hadn’t done all that well, since she’d been the only person to ever call me Penny, and “Penny Lane” was on every mix tape I ever made. My signature song. Because everyone needs one.
I scowled, and people on the dance floor cleared out of the way. It wasn’t enough that Creepy Frat Boy had ruined the evening for me, he had to go and ruin my signature song as well. Asshole.
I’d almost made it to the door when I realized that the two girls who'd stuck it out with me at the table were following me. I hesitated just a minute. And then the taller one said something.
“What?” I hadn’t thought the music could get any louder, but apparently we were now next to a speaker. The evening just kept getting better.
“Does that happen a lot?”
“The name thing?” I felt as though I was practically screaming up to the girl’s ear. Jesus, she was tall.
“No, the hitting-on-you thing.”
I stared at her blankly a minute, not sure whether she was serious. Most people realize right away that I must get hit on a lot. “Yeah, pretty much.” I finally spit out. “Actually, I get both that and the name thing a lot.”
“Well, we’ll try not to hold it against you,” she said.
“Sue will, though,” the other girl put in. “That’s her name, Sue. Not Karen. And she will hold it against you. She’s used to being the one all the guys are after.”
“What?” I felt like I seemed to be saying that a lot. I was still a little dazed, I guess, from having spent the better part of the past two days stuck on a cross-country trip in a U-haul with my mom.