Our Third Baker's Dozen Success Story

It's true!  Mid-January, and I'm announcing the third success story from the 2014 Baker's Dozen  I'd call this a successful auction!  Here's the story, in the author's words:

Dear Authoress,

Thanks so much for running your Baker's Dozen contest once more. I am so pleased to report that I signed with Tamar Rydzinski of the Laura Dail Agency in December. She won my contemporary middle grade manuscript (#53 - Last Chance) in the contest and offered rep on the 7th day of her exclusive. My manuscript was already out with a number of other agents, who, when I informed them of Tamar's offer of rep, asked for a chance to consider it. After a nail-biting couple of weeks and a flurry of e-mails and phone calls (and a few FABULOUS rejections), I remained convinced by Tamar's passion for my characters that she was the agent for me. After a long writerly journey, it's lovely to begin 2015 in the next phase of my career.

Thank you again for all of your encouragement and the many opportunities you offer to new writers. You are the Agent Fairy Godmother.

All the best,

Juniper Ekman

Our Second 2014 Baker's Dozen Success Story

They're coming in fast and furious this year!

I'm pleased to announce that Alexandra Ballard has signed with (the admittedly adorable) Kent D. Wolf of Lippincott Massie McQuilkin.  Here is Alexandra's story:

Thanks to Baker’s Dozen, I am starting 2015 with an agent! When I first submitted my YA contemporary entry (#47—Stick Figure), I assumed that, best case scenario, I'd get some helpful feedback on my first 250. Much to my shock and excitement, I ended up receiving three offers of representation from agents participating in the contest! It was all a whirlwind and, after careful consideration, I happily signed with Kent D. Wolf at Lippincott Massie McQuilkin. I am so excited and thankful to everybody who helped make Baker's Dozen possible. Authoress, thanks for having the guts to be Miss Snark's first victim and for picking up when she left off. Your blog helps writers succeed.

Our Fastest Baker's Dozen Success Story Ever!

Just in time for Christmas--our first success story from the 2014 Baker's Dozen Agent Auction.  Who'd've thunk?  Hearty congratulations to Susan Mann and Rena Rossner.  Here's the story in their own words:

SUSAN:

Oh my gosh! I'm so excited. Thank you for everything you and Jodi and all the agents and everyone involved in Baker's Dozen. In just a few weeks, I went from hoping to be picked as a finalist in Baker's Dozen to being signed by an agent. I'm floored and thrilled and so very grateful. Thank you.

I was entry number 7, the librarian spy story called FRAME OF REFERENCE.  Rena won the full manuscript, read it, and loved it. She offered to represent me and I didn't hesitate to accept. She's been fantastic to work with and I know we'll make a great team. I'm already making some revisions she suggested to make the story even stronger.

Again, I'm so grateful to you for doing Baker's Dozen. You made my connection with Rena possible.

RENA:

I was attracted to Susan's pitch and excerpt from the start. It was one of my top choices, and I intended to bid, and bid hard, for it. In the end it was the only one of my top choices that I won, so I got started on it right away. (I mean, who doesn't love bookish wannabe-super-spy librarian?) 

I was hooked by Susan's pages on the blog, and the rest of the novel didn't disappoint. While it still needs a bit of work, I shared my thoughts about the manuscript with Susan on the phone and I think our visions for the project really meshed. Having said that, I told her I was completely okay with her giving others the chance to read, and that I'd wait for her to get back to me, but to my great surprise (and joy!) Susan accepted my offer of representation on the spot. 

There are some really fantastic moments in this novel, including a scene at Oxford's famed Eagle and Child (Bird and Baby) pub, which won me over, and the banter and chemistry between the two main characters is witty and charming. There's great series potential here, too, and I know Susan is already at work on book two. So excited to work with Susan on this, and I can't wait to share it with the publishing world, and then the rest of the world!

The 2014 Baker's Dozen Agent Auction Winners

Another fine auction!  If you didn't get a chance to follow along during that fiery first hour-or-so yesterday, head over to #BakersDozen2014 on Twitter and scroll through the fun.  My Tweet Divas did a great job tweeting the bids!  (Better than I did, for sure--what was I thinking, trying to tweet and moderate the auction simultaneously??)

70% of the entries received bids in the auction; 28 of these were fulls. Good stuff!

Anyway, HERE ARE THE WINNING BIDS:

1 DONOVAN -- 25 pages to TAMAR RYDZINSKI
2 MRS. PETERMAN'S BENTLEY -- Full to STEFANIE LIEBERMAN
4 DOWN INTO DARKNESS -- 10 page to SALLY APOKEDAK
5 BLOOD AND SALT --  Full to JENNIFER UDDEN
6 THE WILDFLOWER SEASON -- Full to CARLIE WEBBER
7 FRAME OF REFERENCE -- Full to RENA ROSSNER
15 THE CAT'S MEOW -- 10 pages to SALLY APOKEDAK
16 BLOODBIRD -- 25 pages to JOSH GETZLER
17 THE SWORD AND THE SKULL -- Full to DANIELLE BURBY
21 TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE -- Full to TAMAR RYDZINSKI
22 HOT FLASHES FROM HELL -- Full to STEFANIE LIEBERMAN
25 GRANDMA'S GOT MURDER ON HER MIND -- Full to STEFANIE LIEBERMAN
26 MECHANIC -- 75 pages to SARAH NEGOVATICH
27 ESTER, CALLED MARIA -- Full to JOAN PAQUETTE
30 WHERE ALL THE MISSING PIECES GO -- Full to CARLIE WEBBER
31 PHOENIX RISING -- 75 pages to SARAH NEGOVATICH
32 THE DIASPORA -- Full to JENNIFER UDDEN
33 LITTLE DO YOU KNOW -- Full to SARAH LAPOLLA
34 THE FAN GENE -- Full to MICHELLE WOLFSON
35 CHASING A STARLIGHT -- 30 pages to LAURA BRADFORD
36 THIRD TIME'S A CURSE -- 100 pages to DANIELLE BURBY
37 FIX YOUR LIFE! -- Full to JOSH GETZLER
39 DARK CORE -- 25 pages to RENA ROSSNER
40 THE LAPRAN LINK -- Full to STEFANIE LIEBERMAN
41 THE MEMORY THIEF -- Full to SALLY APOKEDAK
43 DEAD SILENCE -- 115 pages to SARAH NEGOVATICH
44 NIXIE IN THE CENTER -- Full to MELISSA JEGLINSKI
46 THE MIND TAMER -- 5 pages to SALLY APOKEDAK
47 STICK FIGURE -- Full to CARLIE WEBBER
48 THE DEMON PRINCE -- Full to RENA ROSSNER
49 THE TASTE OF LIGHTENING --Full to JOSH GETZLER
50 SUBMERGED -- 50 pages to SARAH NEGOVATICH
51 LOOKING FOR STARDUST -- Full to SUSAN HAWK
52 NOWHERE TO BELONG -- 30 pages to LAURA BRADFORD
53 LAST CHANCE -- Full to TAMAR RYDZINSKI
54 THE VIRTUE OF SIN -- Full to TAMAR RYDZINKSI
55 AGE OF THE GIFT -- Full to DANIELLE BURBY
56 ROOT BEER CANDY AND OTHER MIRACLES -- Full to CARYN WISEMAN
57 MONSTERS OF WINTERVAST ISLAND -- Full to SARAH NEGOVATICH
58 THE ADVENTURES OF RATBOY -- 150 pages to PAM VAN HYLCKAMA VLIEG
59 TRACKER 220 -- Full to SARAH LAPOLLA
60 CATCH HIM BY DISGUISE -- Full to CARLIE WEBBER

Congratulations, all!

Winners:  Please email me at facelesswords(at)gmail.com with the following:  Your post number, title, the agent who won you, and the amount of the request.  This will facilitate my getting you the correct submission information quickly and easily.

IMPORTANT:  Do not query the agents who bid on your work but did not win.  After a 1-week exclusive with your winning agent, the non-winners will have the opportunity to request your work.  In fact, some have already done so.  So please sit tight!  I've got your back.

A huge THANK YOU to absolutely everybody.  This was a smashing success.

Bidding is Now Closed

Thanks for another wonderful auction!

AND THE GAVEL DROPS -- The 2014 Baker's Dozen Agent Auction is Live!

Welcome to the 5th Annual Baker's Dozen Agent Auction!

Please STOP CRITIQUING at this time.  Bidding is now LIVE.

HOW IT WORKS:

* Agents will open bidding with a minimum bid of 5 pages.
* A total of 5 bids must be made on an item before agents are allowed to bid the full.
* The full bid trumps all. Once an item receives a full bid, bidding for that item is closed, and the agent who bid the full wins it.
*At the close of the auction tonight (at 11:00 pm EST), all high bids win the items.

TO THE ENTRANTS:

Dear Ones:

Not everyone will receive bids.  I know you know this, but I wanted to point it out again.  Because IT DOESN'T MEAN YOUR WORK STINKS.  Keep writing.  Keep querying widely.  Keep believing.

TO EVERYONE:

Follow along on Twitter at #BakersDozen2014 starting NOW!  We're live tweeting the bids this morning (to the best of our ability--because they come in VERY FAST at first!).  Grab your seat and get in on the adrenaline rush!

Baker's Dozen Agent Auction: Critique Guidelines

Finally -- we're LIVE!

Here are the official critiquing guidelines:

• Please use a screen name instead of "Anonymous".  Using a screen name does not require that you have a Blogger account, or any other account.  Simply choose the "Name/URL" option for signing in, and type whatever screen name you'd like to use.  The URL part isn't necessary.
• While it's fine to comment on whether or not the logline worked for you, the main thrust of your critique should focus on the actual writing.  
• As always, a mixture of tact and honesty is the best approach.
• Hundreds of critiques will be flooding my inbox, and I won't be able to police them (unless I stop the rest of life for the next four days).  If you see something that is VERY SNARKY, please let me know.  (By "very snarky", I mean "completely inappropriate".  This does not include comments on your own work that may have hurt your feelings because they've pointed out some flaws.  I will not delete legitimate critique.)
• IMPORTANT:  Please DO NOT CRITIQUE during the auction (Tuesday, December 2, 11 am to 11 pm EST).  I have encouraged the agents to subscribe to the comments of the posts they're bidding on, and they don't need to be bombarded with critiques while they're trying to win something.  THANK YOU FOR ABIDING BY THIS.
• ENTRANTS:  Please critique a minimum of 5 of the entries.  Also, please refrain from commenting on the comments on your own work.  For one thing, most people will not return to a comment box they've already left a critique in.  For another, it's not a good idea to try to justify/explain/defend your work to those who are critiquing.  Read quietly, sift through, keep what's golden and reject what doesn't work for you.

Questions?  Leave them below!  Happy critting, everyone!

(60) YA Contemporary: CATCH HIM BY DISGUISE

TITLE: CATCH HIM BY DISGUISE
GENRE: YA Contemporary

To catch the boy who put her younger brother in a coma, sixteen-year-old Hannah trails him to summer camp as a boy. It’s the perfect plan—as long as no one catches Hannah first.

Mattie Matt,

1.4 seconds. I looked up a velocity formula online, so I know that’s how long it took you to hit the dumpster. 1.4 seconds. Less time than it takes the average person to be thrown from a mechanical bull—which would have been a smarter stunt.

You do these stupid things without considering the consequences. You think you’re invincible. Well, you’re not. You might never wake up, and it’ll be all your fault.

And mine. Because I should have

The doorbell rang, and I jerked, leaving a blue streak across the page.

“Hannah! Could you come down here, please?” Mom called, her voice muffled through my bedroom door.

Probably another church member with a foil-covered casserole dish. Except Mom didn’t need me for that. Maybe it was Lena. She’d been bugging me to go out with her this weekend.

I snapped my notebook closed and flicked a glance in the mirror to make sure I was decent—not a sure thing lately. I’d greeted the youth minister the other day in skimpy pajama shorts and a cami with no bra. He’d stared over my shoulder while he asked how I was holding up. Talk about awkward.

Satisfied I was fully dressed, I slipped out of my room. Multiple voices mingled in the foyer, including, I realized with a start, Dad’s. He usually only left Matt’s room in the trauma ward for work or sleep.

I peered around the corner down the stairs. Two strangers, a man and a woman, stood just inside the door. Well-dressed and with the kind of proper posture that made my shoulders ache.

“Thank you for seeing us, Reverend and Mrs. Davies,” the man said. “William felt strongly

(59) YA Science Fiction: TRACKER 220

TITLE: TRACKER220
GENRE: YA Science Fiction

When everyone has a tracking chip in their brain, one glitch threatens the safety and knowledge the network provides. As sixteen-year-old Kaya becomes that glitch, she must choose between life as a lab rat, or a rogue movement that plans on using her to destroy the tracker network.

We were going to get caught. No question about it. Masking your tracker signal got you a date with the authorities at best, and at worst… I didn’t want to think about it. I wasn’t lucky enough to get away with this. I was never that lucky.

Troy grinned and held out the radio wave generator. “Come on, Kaya. You know you want to.”

I shook my head. A few minutes of freedom from the tracker network wasn’t worth the risk. The authorities would brain probe us to check our chips for glitches if they showed up. Not if—when.

Troy waved the box in my face. “You sure? It’s such a rush!”

I shivered despite the blazing bonfire in front of us. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

That little box was trouble. Worse than Pandora’s. My muscles tensed. At least if I refused to disrupt my tracker signal, then I wouldn’t have to lie about breaking the law.

I snuggled up to Harlow, and he put his arm around me. I liked some of Harlow’s friends. But trekking into the woods to watch them attempt to beat his record for longest signal disruption was insanity. Why couldn’t we hang out at the fly-in theater instead? Anything other than pursuing a one-way ticket to tracker juvie.

But they loved the thrill of tempting fate—the ultimate game of chicken. At best, they had about five minutes of interrupted tracker signals before the network alerted the authorities. They’d show up and we’d scatter.

Troy glared at Harlow. “Looks like your girlfriend’s afraid of getting caught.”

(58) Adventure: MG THE ADVENTURES OF RATBOY

TITLE: The Adventures of Ratboy
GENRE: MG Adventure

When a twelve-year-old aspiring comic book artist accidentally brings his own characters to life, he has to team up with the hero to defeat the evil villain, Dastard Lee.

I stood in the entrance of the cafeteria and twirled my Green Lantern ring around my finger. It was the first day of seventh grade, and I didn’t have anyone to eat lunch with. Not that I wasn’t fun. I was a lot of fun, even if I did say so myself. And it wasn’t that I didn’t have any friends. I had one friend, my next door neighbor, Peyton. We’d started hanging out together right after my family moved here last spring. But I couldn’t see her anywhere, even when I craned my neck around the doorframe. Maybe she didn’t want to eat with me.

Someone bumped my shoulder, and I stumbled past the doorway into the actual cafeteria. It was super noisy and echoey, and it smelled like spaghetti. A couple of kids from my street glanced at me and then away again. A girl from my morning math class waved and then pulled her hand down really fast. A guy from last summer’s art camp looked right at me and opened his mouth, but then the kid next to him said something, so he closed it again.

I swallowed my disappointment. Obviously everyone was still thinking about the incident from sixth grade. That’s okay. I could eat alone. I had my comic book, and someday when I was rich and famous they’d wish they had been nicer to me.

I scurried along the wall until I found a mostly empty table in the back. A skinny kid with dark frizzy hair was already there. He was so thin and his hair was so big he reminded me of a dandelion. As he tapped furiously on a tablet computer, I could hear beeping and twerping amid the occasional explosion.

(57) YA Magical Realism: MONSTERS OF WINTERVAST ISLAND

TITLE: Monsters of Wintervast Island
GENRE: YA Magical Realism

A ’90s-obsessed gamer girl, still an outsider even to her unlikely group of friends, struggles to find a missing boy on an island where H. P. Lovecraft-esque occurrences are a regular part of the day.

I slid the knife into my skin, cold metal seeking warmth against the snow falling endlessly around me. The scent of my blood spread into the storm, wind-thrown away from me like a fishing lure. I removed the knife, pain not even crossing my mind, and waited.

As if I had summoned it, an equinocus, or snow pony, appeared twenty yards away.

I held my breath, shutting out the chill, and absorbed the sight of it. Someone from the mainland might have marveled, starry-eyed, at the part-horse, part-apparition like it was miracle. But for me, someone who knew the tales of the equinocus, I saw it for what it truly was.

A killer.

The Fat Man stood beside me, squinting through his facemask until he saw it, too. He muttered into his earpiece, “Snow pony, ten o’ clock from my position. Move in.”

Two ghost-like puffs of breath escaped the equinocus’s nostrils as it watched us. Its powdery ears, seemingly made of fine snow, twitched toward the Fat Man’s gruff voice.

“Earn your pay, girl,” he grunted, raising his rifle loaded with lard-filled bullets. I knew what he wanted, but my legs refused to move. For a moment, we stood at an impasse, none of us breaking the frozen spell.

He jerked the gun barrel toward the equinocus and barked, “Now, Stacie.”

For the money, we need the money, I chanted to myself, shutting down the small voice in my mind that wondered how the Fat Man knew my name.

(56) MG Contemporary (verse): ROOT BEER CANDY AND OTHER MIRACLES

TITLE: ROOT BEER CANDY AND OTHER MIRACLES
GENRE: MG Contemporary (verse)

When her parents enroll in marriage camp, Bailey and her brother spend August on an island with a grandmother they barely know. With the help of a driftwood mermaid, mysterious ice-cream vendor, and new best friend, Bailey learns how everyday miracles can change lives.

After the storm

Felicity Bay is washed clean—

cottage roofs rain-fresh,

gleaming

in the morning sun.

I lean over the porch railing,

scan the ribbon

of wet sand.

Last night’s wind rearranged driftwood

along the beach

like my mother scrubbing,

dusting,

moving furniture around

after she and Dad fight.

My brother couldn’t sleep.

This morning I found him

on Nana Marie’s ocean-blue couch,

wrapped in a sheet.

.

Nana Marie calls me inside

before I can explore.

.

Bailey, she hollers. Pancakes.

.       

I kick off my flip-flops,

dash in,

plop down across from Kevin

at the kitchen table.

.

Don’t just stare at them, Nana Marie says.

Eat, Chickadee.

.

She has to check them first, says Kevin.

.

He thinks it’s dumb

that I study the gold and white designs

fried into flapjacks,

searching

for the face of God.

He was only little

when Aunt Debbie discovered Tom Hanks

staring at her

from her breakfast plate.

She watched every one of his movies

after that,

said it changed her life.

So I say, You never know,

and I check for God.

.

Later that morning

I find Daniel outside,

peering at things

through his camera.

.

Beep

click

beep.

.

He turns on the camera,

snaps a picture,

turns it off.

.

Daniel’s eleven,

same as me.

He stays in the cottage

next to Nana Marie’s

and takes pictures

of everything.

.

Where ya going? Daniel says.

.

Nowhere, I say,

and we start going there

together.

.

A short trail cuts through beach grass—

grey-green blades

as long as my legs,

dancing

in the breeze.

(55) YA Fantasy: AGE OF THE GIFTED

TITLE: Age of the Gifted
GENRE: Young Adult Fantasy

With her newfound power, fifteen-year-old Shyla summons rains and saves her desert village. She ages five years overnight. Horrified, she vows never to use her power again. But she can’t keep it a secret. Soon she’s hunted by a king who wants to control her, rebels who plan to use her, and sick and dying people who long to be healed. When war breaks out, Shyla must decide if growing old is too high a price for peace.

Clutching a large water jar to my chest, I raced down Shalot’s dusty streets.

The twin suns’ blazing heat scorched my skin. Sweat soaked my kaftan. But still I ran, skirting people and skidding around corners. Finally, I stumbled out of the last twisty side street into the village’s largest bazaar. Ancient limestone shops surrounded the market. The mingled scents of curry, garlic, and hot pepper clogged the air.

People milled around the bazaar, but the area surrounding Shalot’s only well was empty. A warder in a stained white robe was moving a wooden lid back over the rock-rimmed structure.

I was too late.

“Wait!” I shifted my jar to the crook of my arm, ran forward, and grabbed the lid.

The warder pushed my hand aside. “Come back tomorrow, girl.”

“My family’s out of water.”

“Not my problem.”

“But our camels are dying.”

“If I don’t do my job, people die.” The warder slammed the lid in place.

I felt myself slump. I could still see our camel lying doubled over and twisted, her mouth gaping at the cloudless sky. Above her emaciated body, shadows had seemed to flicker like ominous flames. The odd vision should’ve scared me, but in some strange way, it had compelled me to try to save her. I’d spent the morning dribbling the last of our water down her throat and trying to make her stand.

But nothing had helped. I had to make the warder change his mind.

(54) YA Romance: THE VIRTUE OF SIN

TITLE: The Virtue of Sin
GENRE: YA Romance

When her cult leader forces 16-year-old Miriam into marriage with a stranger, she's faced with an impossible decision: renounce her faith and her family or lose her one true love.

The girls never get a choice. This has always been the way in New Jerusalem, for as long as I've been alive and longer. My father chose my mother, a fact he seldom lets her forget. Now that I am sixteen, tonight it is my turn to be chosen. And though the very thought turns my insides liquid, it’s more from anticipation than fear.

My mother perches beside me on one of the low, hand-carved juniper benches the men have dragged from the Chapel out into the Mojave Desert. Tonight—and tonight only—we are allowed outside the high, concrete walls of the city. She holds out a plate piled with sticky rice, some slices of roast lamb, and a crumbling chunk of bread.

“You need to eat something.” She raises her voice to be heard above the music booming from big speakers into the open air; the same sound system that in less than an hour will be used to announce my future.

The smell of the charred meat churns my stomach. This is a feast compared to our daily meals, but I push it away.

“Ruth is over by the food station with Leah.” She points through the crowd, toward the fire in the distance. “They look as nervous as you. Perhaps more.”

“I’m not nervous.” My best friends are terrified of what tonight will bring. They don’t know who will choose them. But I have no reason to share their fear.

Still, my stomach lurches again as I turn away from my mother’s finger, toward the cave opening in the steep red rocks to our right. I’ve never been inside. Like most of our rituals, the men are free to attend, while the girls go only once, on their wedding night.

(53) MG Contemporary: LAST CHANCE

TITLE: Last Chance
GENRE: MG Contemporary

Twelve year-old Journey and her rootless mama have only ever had each other and the open road. When their Winnebago breaks down in a dying town, Journey makes her first ever friend: a forgotten shut-in whose home stands in the way of the town’s only shot at survival. With her own future at stake, Journey has two choices: Save the house and kill the town, or save the town and destroy a life.

Weeds.

Weeds.

Weeds.

Roadkill!

I craned my neck to see what had died, but it was gone. I flung off my seatbelt, ignoring Mama’s “Hey now!” and raced through our Winnebago to peer out the back window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the corpse at the side of the road.

“Slow down!” I hollered. Mama obliged, stomping on the brake and sending me sprawling. The Ford that had been trying to pass us all morning swerved and kept going, horn wailing all the way. Mama let the engine die, then twisted in her seat to give me her Behave look.

“Journey Jones, what’d I say about running around in Born Free while we’re driving?”

“Don’t,” we said together.

“Sorry.” I scrambled to my feet and pressed my forehead against the rear window. Through the dust clouding the glass, I made out a small brown shape about fifty yards behind us.

“Can we back up a little?” I asked.

“No.”

“Just fifty feet?”

“Sit down, darlin’.”

I squinted hard as the wind from passing cars made a flattened, bottlebrush tail flap limply against the road. Satisfied, I made my way back to my seat, where Mama sat with her arms folded across the steering wheel.

“Can we go now?” Mama asked as I strapped myself in.

“Can we go back to Nashville instead?” I countered.

“You know I hate going back,” Mama said, and I sighed, ‘cause it was true. In my twelve years on the road, we’d only ever gone forward.

(52) YA Contemporary: NOWHERE TO BELONG

TITLE: Nowhere to Belong
GENRE: YA Contemporary

Recently orphaned Bailey Scott sucks at lying and has always been protected by her older brothers. Devastated when they're separated, she must now protect them by lying convincingly about the dangers she faces in her foster home, or risk permanent separation when the oldest turns eighteen: her ticket out.

I'd still be standing on the other side of the fence if Jake hadn't raced out of his doghouse, begging me to open the gate. Well, that and the fact that I was out of clean underwear.

After I grabbed our key from under the rock, my trembling hand stopped in front of the keyhole. Jake barked with anticipation, prancing back and forth behind me. I pushed the key into the hole, but couldn't bring myself to open the door.

Frozen in place, I pictured my mom on the other side. What would she be doing at this exact moment if she were here? I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the frosty door, imagining her emptying the dishwasher, wiping down the table and doing a hundred other insignificant things.

Jake whined, bringing me back to the present. Unclenching my fingers from the ice cold doorknob, I yanked the key out of the hole. I was not going into my house without my parents waiting on the other side of that door. Jake and I settled on the cold ground leaning against the porch steps--well, I leaned against the steps and Jake leaned against me.

"Jake, they're not here," I choked out.

He stiffened, looking up at me with anticipation.

"Buddy, you've g-got to understand," I sputtered. "Mom and Dad aren't coming back."

At the mention of their names, Jake bolted up the stairs and eagerly stared at the door, wagging his tail.

(51) MG Contemporary: LOOKING FOR STARDUST

TITLE: Looking for Stardust
GENRE: MG Contemporary

While following a clue to find her missing dad, a twelve-year-old homeless girl, Sofia, and her momma end up in the desert. When Momma falls ill, Sofia believes it’s up to her to finish the search no matter the result, but in order to succeed, she’ll have to travel two hundred miles with little more than the survival skills Momma taught her.

Living in a hearse is just asking for trouble. It’s the reason Momma lost her job over at Vinnie’s Pizzeria. Seems folks didn’t like the idea of a hearse delivering their food. At least the car is roomy enough for Momma and me to stretch out in the back to sleep on account it’s made for carrying coffins. In the way, way back it’s got these curtains that can be pulled shut over the windows so it’s really dark, and there’s this stuff called crushed velvet covering the part they used to put the coffins on.

At first it was kind of creepy, sleeping in the same space where dead bodies once were. But then I told myself, “Sofia, it’s okay. You and those dead people aren’t much different.” I’m just as smelly as one of them. Truth is, sometimes I think those dead people are luckier than me. They don’t worry ’bout having enough to eat, how they’ll live the next day, or where they’ll sleep. Momma and me sleep in the back of the hearse, but I don’t sleep there every night. Momma and me trade off. Last night was her turn.

Normally she’s up by now, but for some reason she’s still asleep, even though the sun’s nearly all the way up. It’s too hot on mornings like this to hang around inside the hearse, so I pop open a can of beans and climb on top of the hood. Pity follows me, wagging his tail.

(49) YA Contemporary Fantasy: THE TASTE OF LIGHTNING

TITLE: THE TASTE OF LIGHTNING
GENRE: YA Contemporary Fantasy

Seventeen-year-old Pia Xun is so over being called spoiled brat and ching chong and psycho stalker. That last one’s thanks to the deity living in her body, who insists she follow around stupid Lauchlan McCrea for his protection or whatever. But when she learns what happens when Lauchlan's gone, she finally starts to take things seriously, nicknames be damned. Because Hell on Earth? Kind of a big deal.

I was standing in the newsagency pretending to browse a stack of glossy magazines when this middle-aged woman wandered up to me.

“Hello,” she said, loud and slow. “Can you –” she pointed at me, “– please help me?” She pointed at herself.

Possibly a few k’s short of a marathon.

I gave her my most patient smile. When she was sure she had my attention, she gestured out to the city street. People hurried past, not bothering to wait for the crosswalk signals as they ducked between cars and buses, their business outfits and school uniforms already sticky from the Australian summer heat. The scent of pastries and coffee wafted from the adjoining café, where Lauchy was downing an iced coffee with his precious posse. Dear old Metal Mouth was the reason I was stuck here this morning thumbing through magazines rather than lounging in bed.

“Can you tell me how to get to Raine Square?” the lady said. Still loud. Still slow. She was drawing attention. Soon Lauchy and his friends would notice me, and if that happened I would never shake the “psycho stalker” tag.

I set down my magazines and took her outside. “It’s a bit of a walk.” Didn’t think she got most of the instructions, but I tried anyway.

She beamed. “Thank you.” This time she spoke normally. “I didn’t realise you’d be so good at English until you opened your mouth.”

Wait.

What.

What the actual hell?

(48) YA High Fantasy: THE DEMON PRINCE

TITLE: The Demon Prince
GENRE: YA High Fantasy

Ashira wishes for love, excitement, and adventure far from her desert village. When her coming-of-age prophecy states she will “live a life of no renown,” she becomes determined to change it, utilizing a lazy and cynical djinni. Her errant wishes trigger demon outbreaks and darker prophecies. Now, Ashira must contain the magic she unleashed before it destroys her world.

Ashira stared down the dirt road, longing for a glimpse of her future to form in the horizon like a heat vision. Instead of the endless sand of Saban, she would sail oceans. She would bask in the luxury of the northern kingdoms and master the magic there—fight past drakes and any other beast she could imagine with a brave and handsome man at her side. Find the forest fairies and even taste snow.

Camel groans and the stench of sweat reached her first. With her prophecy still days away, Ashira had to settle for dreams and vicarious adventures. She held the skirt of her sari away from her sandals as she moved from the village gate, weaving around the returning caravan. She tried to guess at their last stop, but nothing stood out among the cloth bags and worn baskets until she found Vaslin, the merchant’s daughter.

The girl had a light in her brown eyes that said she had a secret—a secret Ashira would have to spend most of the evening wheedling out of her.

Ashira swallowed past the dust in her throat. “Do you have a letter?”

“Let me think.” Vaslin pushed a stray lock of hair under her veil and sorted through her satchel with agonizing deliberation. “You’re expecting to hear from Isila?”

“Isila, Liaha, Jalila—it doesn’t matter. Do you have a letter or not?”

“Yes, I think . . . Jalila. That’s her mark, isn’t it?” She held a bundle of parchment just out of reach.

(47) YA Contemporary: STICK FIGURE

TITLE: Stick Figure
GENRE: YA Contemporary

When 16-year-old Elizabeth lands in an eating disorder clinic, she's determined to get out and win back her ex. But when anonymous gifts arrive in the mail, she’s forced to question everything she believes.

No one told me that when I got skinny I’d grow fur. Tiny translucent hairs, fine like white mink, appeared on my arms, legs, and face, giving me soft blond sideburns no girl should have. When I looked it up, the fur turned out to have a name—lanugo. Babies are born with it. Anorexics grow it.

My first thought? What a pain in the ass.

My second thought? So far, so good.

After all, I knew I had to suffer to be beautiful. Of all the things Mom said to me, I understood that this was true. If you wanted people to notice you, want you, admire you, envy you, want to be you, you had to sacrifice. Easy? No. But that’s why people called it suffering.

And even if all your suffering seemed to get you nowhere—well, nowhere except the Wallingfield Psychiatric Facility’s Residential Treatment Center, remember this: There is always success hidden in failure. After all, you might be locked away, but you’re still a size zero.

“I hate this hair.” I’d been at Wallingfield for exactly 21 days when I brought up my fur in group therapy. I don’t know why I chose that moment; maybe it was because the circle felt cozy that day, with the chairs pulled into a tight circle and our knees curled up to our chests to stay warm even though the baseboard heaters creaked and groaned all day.

Or maybe it was because I’d followed the rules, eaten my meals, and they were still there. I wanted to shave every single disgusting one off, except that a razor was sharp, and they didn’t let us have anything sharp at Wallingfield.