GENRE: YA Suspense
Alone in the kitchen at two a.m., six hours before his first day at
Harding High, Sam Newman dropped a jar of grape jelly and let out a
He whirled around, every muscle taut. His eyes darted from the
partially open pantry door to the shadowed area under the table.
The jar rolled to a stop. He breathed.
Had he really caught movement from the corner of his eye? Couldn't
be. Who else would be walking around the house at this hour?
Abandoning his half-made sandwich on the counter, he eased his way
around the center island. He nudged the pantry door open with one
A faint rustling sound issued from the next room.
Heart hammering in his chest, Sam stepped into the doorway and
surveyed the living room. Darkness pooled in the corners out of reach
of the lone reading lamp on the end table. The curtain danced in
front of an open window.
Was that all I heard? he wondered.
Sam crossed the living room, skin prickling on the back of his
neck, and shut the window. He noticed he still carried his spoon,
thick with jelly, a mockery of a weapon. Great. If attacked, he
could slather the intruder's shirt to leave a clue for the police. He
imagined them finding his body sprawled out on the carpet next to a
big purple stain. What a pathetic way to go. And if there were some
spark of life left in his body, his mom would finish him off for
ruining the carpet.