Monday, December 12, 2011


So you all need to go check out the awesome giveaways going on at the YA Highway blog! Tons of great stuff...

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Can We Guess Your Character's Age?

**WINNER!! (3rd place!)

So the lovely and fab Brenda Drake is hosting a really fun contest! It's all about guessing your MC's age after reading the first 250! Sounds fun, right? Of course, I had to participate! Check out her blog and contest info here.

She's also got Gabriela Lessa as a guest judge, which is awesome and special because one of Gabriela's contests was what got me starting this blog with my very first blog entry. Check out Gabriela's website, too!

Directions say to leave out any information like title and genre so I'm just posting the first 250...

...Enjoy and thanks for reading...

My knuckles slam into the head cheerleader’s perfect little nose. It feels great. Real great. Well, inside it does. My hand burns like hell.

It’s halftime, and the gym reeks of boy—sweat, bad breath, and cheap cologne. Silence drums in my ear so loud it hurts. There are hundreds of faces on the bleachers, and then there’s the basketball team. All staring. At me. Oh, God.

The fluorescent lights buzz, telling me to run, but I can’t. Not yet. Instead, I admire how the blood drips from her nostril, over her ivory skin, and soaks circles into her uniform. It looks great next to the matching red stripe crossing her chest. The white stripe matches her pale face. And the blue matches the developing bruise.

My fist aches like broken bones, and my heart pounds hard enough to bust ribs. But who cares? I may have ruined Cambelle’s face. Completely worth it.

The other cheerleaders freeze—something that doesn’t happen very often. Half of them awed, half angered. Probably fake anger, though. Even her clones have got to hate her, right?

“Eeak!” Cambelle shrieks, shaking everyone back to life. Now, there is noise, and it’s even louder than silence. With one last glare, I turn and bolt, my ponytail bouncing like my skirt and automatically making me appear one hundred percent peppy.

So not me.

I shake my tail better than I walk, but all this cheerleader crap really bugs. It’s shamefully lame, but here I am.


Thanks again for reading! All comments welcome!

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