1st 5 Pages April Workshop - Pattinson Rev 2

Name: Lana Pattinson

Genre: YA Contemporary / Time Travel

Title: MOM, I MARRIED A HIGHLANDER

PITCH:


Abby thinks her lying reputation is behind her…until a Highlander from the past jumps into her future.

High School junior Abby has said goodbye to her “girl who cried wolf” past. Mostly. And she reallymust finish her extra credit report, or her college dreams will be ruined.

But history comes to life when sword-wielding Callum MacGyver is sucked through a portal all the way from 1765. He lands in the library and turns her world upside down.

And the Highlander didn’t come alone. The stolen sword Callum carries belongs to an ancient group called The Serpent Society. They’re determined to keep their time travelling secrets hidden and will go to deadly extremes to get the sword back.

Callum and Abby need to figure out how to get him home before they’re caught, or the portal closes forever.

Revision:
I’m all for dressing up for Halloween, but this is absurd. The costume I’ve worn all day—and the taunting—has worn thin. I have fairy wings over my pink skeleton t-shirt, blue clip-on hair extensions, and his rhinestone belt. Why did I let Javi talk me into wearing this to school? Some BFF he is.

I head to the lockers, the once-a-year-coat of blue paint already chipping from the humid Texas weather. Sarah stands next to me, spinning her combination lock. She’s got a nice boyfriend and shiny hair and if we hadn’t been friends for so long, I’d probably hate her. My green eyes have always been the jealous type.

I scan the hallway, but no one’s watching. "Here." I slip her the contraband in a brown bag.

Big brown eyes stare back at me. “Abby, what’s…?" Sarah opens the bag and laughs. "You think I need a paper bag forOutlander?”

I blush. "It’s from my mom's bookshelf. There are some...intense...scenes in it." Not that Mom would notice it’s gone. She’s on call at the hospital so much, sometimes it’s like living with a roommate instead of a parent.

"Awesome." Sarah slams the locker shut, rattling my mirror. "You going to the game tomorrow?"

I stick my tongue out, mostly at my own reflection, and unclip the hair extensions. “Obviously.”

Of course I'm going to the game tomorrow. Every. Single. Friday. Because football is the main religion in Texas, and I’m a front-pew fan. Not of the game, exactly. Just one tight end in particular.

"I wish..." Sarah sings a song from Into the Woods, this semester’s musical. "Have you seen him today?" She loves teasing me about my crush. The senior football player who doesn't know I exist.

"I wish..." she prompts.

As if on cue, Austin Richards swaggers by in slow motion, like he's in a shampoo commercial, except his hair is shaved so close to his head he should be advertising shaving gel instead. He's got his letterman jacket on, and is followed by his usual entourage of wide receivers.

I wish...

I stop myself from turning around to gawk. I’ve hardly said two words to him, and spent a year looking at the back of his blond head in Trig. But his sheer cuteness just sets my inner subwoofer pounding.

I picture him at the Homecoming dance in full tuxedo gear. He’s spotlighted from above, and I join him in the middle of the gym. He gives me his goofy grin as he crowns me Homecoming Queen, and I serenade him.

Before I can stop it, Sarah’s song escapes my mouth. "I wish...I wish to go to the festival."

My stomach plummets to the soles of my gum-ridden Converse. Oh, my god. That was out loud. Undo! Undo! Control-Z!

And my voice bounces off every hard surface in the hallway—the linoleum tile, the rusted metal lockers, the steely glares from the popular kids. Stupid, stupid earworm.

Ridiculous, foolish imagination.

Of course Austin just breezes by, no eye contact, like I'm invisible, like I’m not even alive. Which is normal for me, I guess.

The hall fills with the sound of snickers and backslaps. And I'm dead, burning up inside, my cheeks buzzing with the stings of a thousand hornets, and I wish I fit into my locker like I did in middle school. I wish.

I press my palms to my eyes, willing the song back into my head.

“Abby,” Sarah’s whisper says it all, her face twisted with pity. “We’re late for drama.”

Yeah. I’ve had my fill of drama for the day, thanks.

Long brown legs sporting huge Vans stalk towards me, squeaking against the polished floor. Khaki shorts. His FREE KITTEH shirt. Shame turns to rage as I realize Javi’s wearing Khaki. Freaking. Shorts. NOT the bottoms of my skeleton pajamas, as pinkie promised.

Javi stops in front of me and addresses the milling crowd. “What? Go find your own train wreck.”

He’s so, so dead to me. But, it works.

Javi’s long arm snakes around my shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you? No singing in the hallway.” His hair flops into his eyes. “No singing, period.” He looks at Sarah and pretends to slit his throat.

I push him off, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and stalk towards the theater.

Javi and Sarah follow me, and he grabs my arm. “Hey.”

I shake him off. “I thought we were dressing up together.”

Javi snorts and covers his mouth. “I didn’t think you were actually listening. You never follow my fashion advice.”

He’s right. And for good reason too. His fashion blog is more like a fashion pile-up, full of crashes and drunk styling near misses, with a total audience of eight including our moms.

“Whatever.” I head into the carpeted theater. It’s new and way too nice for our school. “By the way, you’ve been downgraded. I’m taking an F off of BFF.” 

“You mean I’m the BEST. FOREVER?” Javi flops into a seat. “Don’t be mad. It’s not good when one half of the Olsen twins is upset.”

Such a ludicrous statement, cause I’m short-ish and redheaded while Sarah is tall with glossy black locks.

He runs his fingers through his hair and looks at Sarah. “Seriously…what happened? It was like Abs had just declared war. Or farted.”

Sarah bites her bottom lip and looks at me. “It was kinda funny.”

"Details. Now." Javi's hands are so animated I think they’re about to turn into birds and take flight.

"Calm down, jazz hands." I dump my bag in a seat. "I..." I look at Sarah, who’s bouncing on the balls of her feet. I give up. "Fine. You tell him."

"Abby went into her I’m-in-a-Glee-daydream mode and sang Into the Woods to Austin.” Sarah breaks into song. “I wish... I wish to go to the festival." The acoustics of the room amplify her enchanting voice, and I half expect forest creatures to start gathering. So unlike how my version sounded.

Javi gathers my hands into his, looking deep into my eyes. “Abby. Let’s be real. You do realize that you’ll never be America’s Next Top Hallway Singer?”

“I hate you sometimes.” I pull away.

“She’d probably make the Top Ten,” says Sarah.

Finally. Someone sticks up for me.

“You love me always.” Javi waves me off. "Anyway. What did Austin say?"

I shake my head. "Nothing but snickers, and I don’t mean chocolate."

Javi sits forward and rests his chin on his hands. "Did he look good at least?"

"Like an angel." I slump into the chair next to him. We ache for the same person. But Austin isn’t gay, and he doesn’t date non-cheerleaders. Maybe that's why Javi's my best friend forever. We bonded over our obsession two years ago. And ever since, the couple most unlikely to attend a football game has done just that.

“Going out tonight?” asks Sarah.

“Can’t.” I tug the zipper on my backpack. “I have a hot date with dead Scottish warriors.”

Sarah blinks.

“The extra credit report for Mr.—for your Dad?” I’m never really sure what to call him.

“Oh, that.” Sarah twirls her hair.

“Such a study freak,” says Javi.

I look at him, eyes wide. “Javi…” Dad’s been grumbling about Mom letting me run wild. One more slipup—grades or otherwise—and I’m on the next plane to Cincinnati, playing babysitter for Dad and the Stepmomster’s new spawn.