Category/Genre: YA/ Contemporary
Word Count: 61,000
35 Word Pitch: After the cook’s beat down and the mess hall's incineration, Megan, shoplifter extraordinaire, must learn to trust her posse of unlikely new friends. It’s that, or rot in juvie for something they didn’t do.
If your MC was an Easter egg, what flavor would she be?
Caramel—nice and sticky, just like my shoplifting fingers!
Excerpt (first 300 words):
Diamond studded perfection is why I’m here. They were beautiful, tempting, and worth enough to pay more than one utility bill. But definitely not worth the twenty-thousand questions cranking from this shrink’s mouth.
She doesn’t look like any mother I’ve ever seen, although she insists I speak freely, consider her a mother figure. It’s the lack of wrinkles around her eyes and the way her teeth click that annoying stick of gum in her mouth that give her away. She’s not old enough to be someone’s mother. Definitely not a mom, not that I have much to compare her to.
“Megan,” she says, twisting the black ball-point pen between her finger and thumb. “If you don’t talk to me, then there’s nothing I can do for you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Part of me wants to talk, tell her I only pocketed the diamond earrings to pay the light bill and put some groceries in the cabinets. But I know better than to say that. Hinting at Mom’s unfitness will only land me a cozy foster family. No thanks. I’ve kept my life a secret for the last four years, since Dad died when I was twelve. And that’s exactly how I intend for it to stay.
My eyes lock on my fidgeting hands. The pretty, non-mom scratches her pen across the notebook on her fancy desk, and I really hope she’s no mind reader, filling that paper with all my secrets. She can write whatever she wants about me, it won’t change who I am, or what I have to do to survive. That part of my brain has already adjusted to the choices I make, choices that keep me alive, Mom alive. No amount of words in a file can change that.