Word Count: 50,000
Pitch: The spring musical ended in bloodshed, but four theater kids in their senior year still hope their road trip will give them answers, and great selfie opportunities
If the MC was an Easter Egg, what flavor would they be and why?
Swirled, because all four of them are a little confused right now.
Excerpt: (300 words)
It’s incredibly hard to take someone seriously when they’re wearing a toga. I guess it would have worked in ancient Rome, when all the cool Chariot racers were wearing them. But in the 21st century, especially in 3rd period Chemistry, it kind of undermines whatever you’re saying. Which is only one of the reasons I couldn’t take Rob’s profession of love too seriously.
“You don’t understand. We’re meant to be!” he whispered desperately across the table and his unlit Bunsen burner (while Mr. Lee conceded he hadn’t explicitly said no togas in his lab safety handout, he felt it fell in with baggy sweatshirts). “I just have to find the right way to tell him!”
“Have you thought about passing him a scroll?” asked Melanie.
I elbowed her hard but Rob just continued to stare wistfully at the giant periodic table projected on the white board. Zack, who had been carving some kind of doodle into the desk with a safety pin, looked up at Rob, who now had his face on the desk and was rocking it slowly side to side.
“Dude, come in tomorrow wearing pants and a shirt, and go from there.”
I wish I could say I’ve known Rob his entire life, because that seems to validate a friendship in a way nothing else can. Like having memories of someone’s play-dough creations gives you an unparalleled bond. I’ve actually only know Rob since 7th grade, when he transferred out of Mountain Woods Junior High to Red Brook Middle School; and almost as soon as we met we were dating, or going out, or whatever you call it when twelve-year-olds hold hands and have their parents drive them to the movies.
He came out to me the last day of school.