TITLE: The Milliner's Son
GENRE: YA Magical Realism
Without love from his family, sixteen-year-old Theo hides himself in his music. When a series of thefts rock his Parisian neighborhood and leave the father of the girl he loves dead, Theo must step into reality. But reality isn't full of love—it's full of magic, dark magic connected to the thefts and deadly magic his parents may be using themselves.
Thursday after school, and Theophilus Chapelier, with a black leather bag slung over his shoulder, meandered through the same narrow, winding cobbled streets, humming along to a favorite tune on his iPhone. He knew by heart every chapel and convent he passed, every mansion converted into a hotel, every jewelry shop and chic boutique, every tearoom and upscale brasserie.
Parisians showed off their hats—cloche felt hats, cadet caps, berets, and fedoras. How many were made with his father’s own hands? He could guess if he wanted to, but he didn’t care to know. Not today. Maybe not ever?
A hat maker deserved respect locals would say. The craftsmanship deserved respect. However, one could easily go mad, making hats all day and night.
Under a clear sky and warm light, a pleasant breeze flirted with Theo’s dark hair. He pulled down his headphones. The main streets buzzed with locals and tourists.
Theo stopped at a local patisserie and ordered a slice of wood-fired pizza, his favorite. This was the first café his parents had taken him to for a family brunch out. He couldn’t help but wish to share a meal with his parents rather than eat alone. He wanted his parents to know how much he needed them. He let himself dream about this for a moment.
The honk of a car horn pulled him out his thoughts. As he devoured his slice of pizza in three bites, he glanced at the old man holding a newspaper in front of him. The headline read: LOCAL GOLDSMITH MURDERED.
An intense curiosity came over Theo.
Miss Snark's First Victim
Friday, November 29, 2013
(55) YA Contemporary: REVISING THE CATCH-UP PLAN
TITLE: Revising the Catch-Up Plan
GENRE: YA Contemporary
When her younger brother’s drug addiction escalates to violence, seventeen-year-old MacKayla is sent to live with relatives in the deep South. She’s beginning to adjust to her new life when tragedy strikes twice: a hurricane hits town and her brother, back home, disappears. Mac must choose between leaving to search for her runaway brother or staying to assist the storm-ravaged community – and family – she’s grown to love.
Five days in Alabama and I’d already discovered three undeniable truths:
1. Pale Minnesota skin was not made for Southern sun. Two minutes in direct light and I was as pink and sticky as State Fair cotton candy.
2. “Sweet Tea” would be better named “Sugary, Delicious Goodness.” How had I gone seventeen years without this amazing beverage?
3. One week and a thousand miles was not enough time or space to erase an unwelcome memory.
I pushed my legs fiercely against the front porch, propelling the old rocking chair into a creaky sway of motion as I tried, once again, to forget that night. My glass of Sugary, Delicious Goodness was sweating against my palm, forcing me to grip it tightly as I took an oversized gulp. I closed my eyes and imagined I was sitting on our deck back home, my long-anticipated summer plans still awaiting me.
The sound of a truck crunching onto the gravel driveway pulled me into the present. I was not at home. I was in po-dunk Alabama, staying with my Great Aunt and Uncle who I hadn’t seen since I was a toddler.
“Hi there, MacKayla,” Aunt Shirley called, smiling and scooting her plump body out the truck’s passenger door. Uncle Joe turned off the engine and nodded a silent greeting, the large bald strip across his head shiny as he unloaded several large bags. I scurried to help, the former Girl Scout in me unable to stand by and let a seventy-five-year-old haul groceries on his own.
GENRE: YA Contemporary
When her younger brother’s drug addiction escalates to violence, seventeen-year-old MacKayla is sent to live with relatives in the deep South. She’s beginning to adjust to her new life when tragedy strikes twice: a hurricane hits town and her brother, back home, disappears. Mac must choose between leaving to search for her runaway brother or staying to assist the storm-ravaged community – and family – she’s grown to love.
Five days in Alabama and I’d already discovered three undeniable truths:
1. Pale Minnesota skin was not made for Southern sun. Two minutes in direct light and I was as pink and sticky as State Fair cotton candy.
2. “Sweet Tea” would be better named “Sugary, Delicious Goodness.” How had I gone seventeen years without this amazing beverage?
3. One week and a thousand miles was not enough time or space to erase an unwelcome memory.
I pushed my legs fiercely against the front porch, propelling the old rocking chair into a creaky sway of motion as I tried, once again, to forget that night. My glass of Sugary, Delicious Goodness was sweating against my palm, forcing me to grip it tightly as I took an oversized gulp. I closed my eyes and imagined I was sitting on our deck back home, my long-anticipated summer plans still awaiting me.
The sound of a truck crunching onto the gravel driveway pulled me into the present. I was not at home. I was in po-dunk Alabama, staying with my Great Aunt and Uncle who I hadn’t seen since I was a toddler.
“Hi there, MacKayla,” Aunt Shirley called, smiling and scooting her plump body out the truck’s passenger door. Uncle Joe turned off the engine and nodded a silent greeting, the large bald strip across his head shiny as he unloaded several large bags. I scurried to help, the former Girl Scout in me unable to stand by and let a seventy-five-year-old haul groceries on his own.
(54) MG Contemporary : SAY MY NAME
TITLE: Say My Name
GENRE: MG Contemporary
Not being able to say his own name was 12-year-old Rory’s biggest problem, until his former friend Brent’s brain injury forces them together in the close quarters of the speech therapy room. Now Rory must deal with Brent’s unpredictable behaviors and struggle to forgive hurtful memories, or be forced to find out which is worse: being the target of bullying, or becoming one himself.
I can’t tell you my first name. It’s not that I don’t want you to know who I am. It’s just that, literally, I can’t tell you. All my life I’ve been wishing I had a nice short name with a sharp, hard sound to start it off, like Cam, or Tim. But that’s not what I got. My name is full of R’s. That’s the problem right there. R is not one of my sounds. I have more sounds now than I used to, but R is still not one of them. Figures.
My least favorite thing is meeting new people. Everybody asks, What’s your name? Then it’s all, What? What did you say? Can you repeat that? But it doesn’t matter if I repeat it, because it always comes out the same way. Wrong. Introducing myself is supreme torture and guaranteed embarrassment. Which is why I’m lying here awake, dreading the first day of sixth grade tomorrow.
Sure, there’ll be people from my old school, but we’ll be all mixed in with the four other elementary schools in town. And I know some of those kids will ask me my name. Because that’s what normal kids do.
I wish I could be normal, too. Then I could be more like my friends, who are all excited about going to a new school with fresh teachers to annoy and a whole different level of freedom. Not me. Thinking about what’s coming my way mostly makes me feel sick.
GENRE: MG Contemporary
Not being able to say his own name was 12-year-old Rory’s biggest problem, until his former friend Brent’s brain injury forces them together in the close quarters of the speech therapy room. Now Rory must deal with Brent’s unpredictable behaviors and struggle to forgive hurtful memories, or be forced to find out which is worse: being the target of bullying, or becoming one himself.
I can’t tell you my first name. It’s not that I don’t want you to know who I am. It’s just that, literally, I can’t tell you. All my life I’ve been wishing I had a nice short name with a sharp, hard sound to start it off, like Cam, or Tim. But that’s not what I got. My name is full of R’s. That’s the problem right there. R is not one of my sounds. I have more sounds now than I used to, but R is still not one of them. Figures.
My least favorite thing is meeting new people. Everybody asks, What’s your name? Then it’s all, What? What did you say? Can you repeat that? But it doesn’t matter if I repeat it, because it always comes out the same way. Wrong. Introducing myself is supreme torture and guaranteed embarrassment. Which is why I’m lying here awake, dreading the first day of sixth grade tomorrow.
Sure, there’ll be people from my old school, but we’ll be all mixed in with the four other elementary schools in town. And I know some of those kids will ask me my name. Because that’s what normal kids do.
I wish I could be normal, too. Then I could be more like my friends, who are all excited about going to a new school with fresh teachers to annoy and a whole different level of freedom. Not me. Thinking about what’s coming my way mostly makes me feel sick.
(53) MG Contemporary: CLEMENTINE
TITLE: Clementine
GENRE: Contemporary Middle Grade
Fourteen-year-old Clementine is only allowed to leave the cabin she shares with Mama and Daddy when she helps bury the bodies of Mama’s many miscarried babies. A tumor takes root in Mama’s belly and after Clementine helps place Mama next to the dead babies, she’s left alone with Daddy. Alone, until Daddy brings a new sister to live with them.
I don’t have much that is just mine.
I have a rag doll in a yellow dress that
Mama made for me when I was small.
The doll, Annie, has blue eyes and brown hair,
just like me.
Her face is smudged with dirt,
but my face is clean.
I don’t go outside much.
It isn’t safe, and Daddy gets angry.
I have a belt made from leather that
Daddy gave me when I was small.
The belt is dark brown with little flowers
carved into it.
Mama makes most of my clothes,
so the belt is something special,
but I don’t like it.
If I go outside without permission,
Daddy hits me with that belt.
I am Clementine.
The only people I know are Mama and Daddy
and some people from books.
Mama has a trunk full of books.
She calls them peace-offering books.
For every fight, every raised fist, every flowering bruise,
Daddy presents Mama with a book.
Those little paper apologies crowd her trunk,
Whispering the words that Daddy will never speak.
Sorry.
My mama’s young
Said she was about 13 when she had me; that makes her 27 or so now.
A baby having a baby,
she said.
Told me she didn’t know what to do with me.
Hadn’t ever been around any other babies.
For a long, long time, hadn’t been around anyone except Daddy,
she whispered.
Daddy is older
Tall, covered in ropy muscle
Strong, leaving bruises on mama’s face and body
Quiet, saying things only once, and you’d better listen when he talks.
Listen hard.
GENRE: Contemporary Middle Grade
Fourteen-year-old Clementine is only allowed to leave the cabin she shares with Mama and Daddy when she helps bury the bodies of Mama’s many miscarried babies. A tumor takes root in Mama’s belly and after Clementine helps place Mama next to the dead babies, she’s left alone with Daddy. Alone, until Daddy brings a new sister to live with them.
I don’t have much that is just mine.
I have a rag doll in a yellow dress that
Mama made for me when I was small.
The doll, Annie, has blue eyes and brown hair,
just like me.
Her face is smudged with dirt,
but my face is clean.
I don’t go outside much.
It isn’t safe, and Daddy gets angry.
I have a belt made from leather that
Daddy gave me when I was small.
The belt is dark brown with little flowers
carved into it.
Mama makes most of my clothes,
so the belt is something special,
but I don’t like it.
If I go outside without permission,
Daddy hits me with that belt.
I am Clementine.
The only people I know are Mama and Daddy
and some people from books.
Mama has a trunk full of books.
She calls them peace-offering books.
For every fight, every raised fist, every flowering bruise,
Daddy presents Mama with a book.
Those little paper apologies crowd her trunk,
Whispering the words that Daddy will never speak.
Sorry.
My mama’s young
Said she was about 13 when she had me; that makes her 27 or so now.
A baby having a baby,
she said.
Told me she didn’t know what to do with me.
Hadn’t ever been around any other babies.
For a long, long time, hadn’t been around anyone except Daddy,
she whispered.
Daddy is older
Tall, covered in ropy muscle
Strong, leaving bruises on mama’s face and body
Quiet, saying things only once, and you’d better listen when he talks.
Listen hard.
(52) YA Fantasy: ENERGY BENDER
TITLE: Energy Bender
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Growing up in an agrarian, intolerant village is difficult for Adelaide who doesn’t understand why she can feel and harness the emotions of others. She guards her sickness, afraid that if anyone found out she would be sent to the Cradle Grave prison camps. When a girl her age goes missing, the Elders have questions for Adelaide that probe too far into memories of her own kidnapping years ago and threaten to expose her secret.
Adelaide felt the grief before she heard the wailing. She was walking to the schoolhouse when a heaviness settled in her feet and then lodged in her chest. Every breath hurt, her limbs ached. She wondered if she was ill. Then she heard the crying. It came from inside the house she was passing, its dirt yard swept clean with a broom. Someone in that house, a woman by the sound of it, was in so much pain that her emotion radiated all the way outside to Adelaide. She stood rooted to the ground, confused and afraid of what she was feeling.
“Skunk, what are you doing?”
Adelaide cringed at the voice behind her. She turned and saw Billy Blount approaching.
“Nothing, I just…do you hear that?” A high shriek punctuated the crying.
Billy spat on the ground. “Dirty blood in that house. Best stay away ‘til they re-sanctify the place.”
“What happened?”
“Baby came in the night. Harelip. The Elders took it.”
“Took it where?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? It was different-blooded.” Billy appraised her. “What are you, soft?”
He smiled in the hard way he reserved especially for her. Most people wouldn’t look her full in the face for so long. Adelaide covered the right side of her face with her hand.
Billy sneered. “I guess you would be soft. You’re practically different-blooded yourself, aren’t you, Skunk?”
He reached out and pulled her long braid, hard. Adelaide knocked his hand away.
Billy laughed. “Could have been you, Skunk.”
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Growing up in an agrarian, intolerant village is difficult for Adelaide who doesn’t understand why she can feel and harness the emotions of others. She guards her sickness, afraid that if anyone found out she would be sent to the Cradle Grave prison camps. When a girl her age goes missing, the Elders have questions for Adelaide that probe too far into memories of her own kidnapping years ago and threaten to expose her secret.
Adelaide felt the grief before she heard the wailing. She was walking to the schoolhouse when a heaviness settled in her feet and then lodged in her chest. Every breath hurt, her limbs ached. She wondered if she was ill. Then she heard the crying. It came from inside the house she was passing, its dirt yard swept clean with a broom. Someone in that house, a woman by the sound of it, was in so much pain that her emotion radiated all the way outside to Adelaide. She stood rooted to the ground, confused and afraid of what she was feeling.
“Skunk, what are you doing?”
Adelaide cringed at the voice behind her. She turned and saw Billy Blount approaching.
“Nothing, I just…do you hear that?” A high shriek punctuated the crying.
Billy spat on the ground. “Dirty blood in that house. Best stay away ‘til they re-sanctify the place.”
“What happened?”
“Baby came in the night. Harelip. The Elders took it.”
“Took it where?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? It was different-blooded.” Billy appraised her. “What are you, soft?”
He smiled in the hard way he reserved especially for her. Most people wouldn’t look her full in the face for so long. Adelaide covered the right side of her face with her hand.
Billy sneered. “I guess you would be soft. You’re practically different-blooded yourself, aren’t you, Skunk?”
He reached out and pulled her long braid, hard. Adelaide knocked his hand away.
Billy laughed. “Could have been you, Skunk.”
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