Jay Asher's Blog, page 6
April 25, 2016
One Week in Kentucky
A great week speaking in Kentucky began with an airport run-in with Cliff from Cheers. I mean, Hamm from Toy Story and Mack from Cars. I mean, John Ratzenberger!
In my li'l rental car, in which I swoop through areas where I'm speaking to see as many local oddities as I can, I caught a distant ark being built. This isn't being built for a flood, but as a duplicate to one used during a well-known Biblical flood in an attraction called . Still, if it starts raining a lot, I know where I'm heading!
But I was brought into Kentucky to speak, so I headed to the Grant County Public Library in Williamstown and was given one of the coolest handmade gifts!
Some attendees were in their seats long before I was scheduled to begin. And if you really want an author to feel special, that is precisely how you do it!
As the following road sign proves, if there's anything Kentucky is known for besides horse racing, it's bourbon.
Every few years, I'll take a sip from a shotglass to see if I've finally acquired the taste buds for "adult" beverages. The answer is always an instantaneous "No!" Still, I wanted to check out some of the nearby distilleries due to regional curiosity. But before driving out to any of them, I did more of what I was there for. This time, the seats were filled at Bardstown Middle School.
Their questions were great, which is always the sign of a school that encourages students to think for themselves and think outside the box. Although, when I was leaving, I did catch a couple students trying to escape.
The coolest distillery I visited while in Kentucky was for Maker's Mark. They do everything by hand here, including printing their labels on this press.
If you've ever seen their bottles, they're distinctive because of the dripping red wax on the neck. I learned that those drips are trademarked! Here's what it looks like when the wax-less bottles arrive, get dipped, and then set back on the conveyor belt.
Before my talk at the Nelson County Public Library that evening, I had dinner with a few librarians. Joining us was the mother of a girl who ended her life last year as a seventh grader. This bracelet remains on my wrist as I type this, and will remain here until it wears out.
Then it was time to do my speaking thing!
The next day, I began my journey to Bowling Green, which should have taken an hour and a half. It turned into an all-day adventure as I kept finding road signs luring me to amazing destinations. For example, by the following family.
The Lincoln's lived here for the first two years of Abraham's life. They drew their water from this very spring!
Another stop brought me to . The next tour didn't leave for a couple hours...unless I didn't mind tagging along with a class of fifth graders. Of course I didn't mind! They made the whole experience much more interesting. And loud! But interesting.
When I arrived in Bowling Green, all of the teen and children's authors who had arrived for the following day's Southern Kentucky Book Festival were hanging out and having a grand ol' time. But I didn't join them. Why? Because I didn't know about it. Why? Because I wasn't invited. Why? Because the event organizers were told I wasn't into that sort of thing. What? Why? Because that's what the person who arranged my visit told them!
What!?!?
For most events I attend, the organizers approach me directly, and sometimes my publisher arranges events. Other times, a booking agency will contact me to see if I'd like to do an event they're working on. Often times, I say yes. The agency takes 20% of whatever I make, as they should. After the event, they'll usually tempt me to sign with them exclusively in exchange for more gigs. Every time, I say no because I like working directly with the venues, and I don't mind making less money per visit if that means I get to meet more readers.
If you've ever contacted me directly about setting up a visit, you know that if you hire me, I'm yours for the entire day. If you want me to speak four four times during the day, plus have lunch with select students, and then speak at a library in the evening, that's great. That's why I'm there.
But at this event, apparently the Book Fest was told I would only speak one hour on Friday and then I would sign for only one hour on Saturday. Meanwhile, the rest of the authors spoke several times throughout the two days, and when they weren't speaking, they were sitting with their books from 9am to 3pm to autograph books for any readers who wanted them.
And I, apparently, don't go for that sort of thing.
Why was this said by the booking agency? Maybe they thought it made me ("their" author) seem important. Maybe one of the other authors brought to the festival by this agency (there were three of us) had demanded this in their contract, and maybe the agency didn't want to make that author look bad. I don't know! Yet...
Either way, I didn't know about any of this at the time, so while the other authors gathered to hang out, I was probably watching YouTube videos in my hotel room. And then, later in the evening, when my friend arrived, we attended a delicious event called . Local restaurants showed off their edibles, and a kick-ass band played. We also stepped into a photobooth to document the evening. Do either one of us look like author divas? I don't think so!
#SOKY #YA
The next morning, I arrived at the festival at 9:30am, That's thirty minutes after they opened, which was thirty minutes before my presentation. That's when I noticed all the other authors sitting at tables, ready to sign their books. And that's when I began to question why I wasn't invited to sign books throughout the entire festival. And that's when my jaw began to drop.
So I went and gave my presentation...
,,,and afterwards, I promptly went to the table where my books were stacked and I sat there until 3pm like the good author that I am.
You know who has great readers? I do! You know who else has great readers? . One of her readers brought a lot homemade cookies based on her books.
Who's that making a face at my cookies? Another author who has amazing readers, . One of her readers brought her senior portraits to the festival, and each picture included books by her favorite author: Ms. Whitaker. While this was my first time meeting Alecia, I had so much fun with her as my seatmate that I will now refer to her as my Sister-From-Another-Mister. The first book I bought at the festival was Wildflower. And yes, of course I had it signed!
An author I'm always happy to see and hang out with while traveling is . His shirt, in Arabic, reads "Love Conquers Hate". That matched perfectly with my purple shirt, worn in tribute to Prince, who passed away the day before.
I got to meet author , and found out that he's the husband of the person at Penguin who organized last school year's 貹.
A book I've been looking forward to reading, The Serpent King, was written by . And now, I own a signed copy! Even better than that, Jeff taught me a new way to eat apples, from the top down, which makes it possible to devour core-and-all. So weird! And so cool!
I also had a great time discussing the fun of co-authoring books with the co-authors of the , Lorie Langdon and Carey Corp.
The second day of the conference, the organizers were able to squeeze me onto an author panel discussion, which is something I love to do (despite what they had been told). I even got to pose for my first selfie-stick photo with many of my fellow .
Thanks for a great week, Kentucky!
In my li'l rental car, in which I swoop through areas where I'm speaking to see as many local oddities as I can, I caught a distant ark being built. This isn't being built for a flood, but as a duplicate to one used during a well-known Biblical flood in an attraction called . Still, if it starts raining a lot, I know where I'm heading!
But I was brought into Kentucky to speak, so I headed to the Grant County Public Library in Williamstown and was given one of the coolest handmade gifts!
Some attendees were in their seats long before I was scheduled to begin. And if you really want an author to feel special, that is precisely how you do it!
As the following road sign proves, if there's anything Kentucky is known for besides horse racing, it's bourbon.
Every few years, I'll take a sip from a shotglass to see if I've finally acquired the taste buds for "adult" beverages. The answer is always an instantaneous "No!" Still, I wanted to check out some of the nearby distilleries due to regional curiosity. But before driving out to any of them, I did more of what I was there for. This time, the seats were filled at Bardstown Middle School.
Their questions were great, which is always the sign of a school that encourages students to think for themselves and think outside the box. Although, when I was leaving, I did catch a couple students trying to escape.
The coolest distillery I visited while in Kentucky was for Maker's Mark. They do everything by hand here, including printing their labels on this press.
If you've ever seen their bottles, they're distinctive because of the dripping red wax on the neck. I learned that those drips are trademarked! Here's what it looks like when the wax-less bottles arrive, get dipped, and then set back on the conveyor belt.
Before my talk at the Nelson County Public Library that evening, I had dinner with a few librarians. Joining us was the mother of a girl who ended her life last year as a seventh grader. This bracelet remains on my wrist as I type this, and will remain here until it wears out.
Then it was time to do my speaking thing!
The next day, I began my journey to Bowling Green, which should have taken an hour and a half. It turned into an all-day adventure as I kept finding road signs luring me to amazing destinations. For example, by the following family.
The Lincoln's lived here for the first two years of Abraham's life. They drew their water from this very spring!
Another stop brought me to . The next tour didn't leave for a couple hours...unless I didn't mind tagging along with a class of fifth graders. Of course I didn't mind! They made the whole experience much more interesting. And loud! But interesting.
When I arrived in Bowling Green, all of the teen and children's authors who had arrived for the following day's Southern Kentucky Book Festival were hanging out and having a grand ol' time. But I didn't join them. Why? Because I didn't know about it. Why? Because I wasn't invited. Why? Because the event organizers were told I wasn't into that sort of thing. What? Why? Because that's what the person who arranged my visit told them!
What!?!?
For most events I attend, the organizers approach me directly, and sometimes my publisher arranges events. Other times, a booking agency will contact me to see if I'd like to do an event they're working on. Often times, I say yes. The agency takes 20% of whatever I make, as they should. After the event, they'll usually tempt me to sign with them exclusively in exchange for more gigs. Every time, I say no because I like working directly with the venues, and I don't mind making less money per visit if that means I get to meet more readers.
If you've ever contacted me directly about setting up a visit, you know that if you hire me, I'm yours for the entire day. If you want me to speak four four times during the day, plus have lunch with select students, and then speak at a library in the evening, that's great. That's why I'm there.
But at this event, apparently the Book Fest was told I would only speak one hour on Friday and then I would sign for only one hour on Saturday. Meanwhile, the rest of the authors spoke several times throughout the two days, and when they weren't speaking, they were sitting with their books from 9am to 3pm to autograph books for any readers who wanted them.
And I, apparently, don't go for that sort of thing.
Why was this said by the booking agency? Maybe they thought it made me ("their" author) seem important. Maybe one of the other authors brought to the festival by this agency (there were three of us) had demanded this in their contract, and maybe the agency didn't want to make that author look bad. I don't know! Yet...
Either way, I didn't know about any of this at the time, so while the other authors gathered to hang out, I was probably watching YouTube videos in my hotel room. And then, later in the evening, when my friend arrived, we attended a delicious event called . Local restaurants showed off their edibles, and a kick-ass band played. We also stepped into a photobooth to document the evening. Do either one of us look like author divas? I don't think so!
#SOKY #YA
The next morning, I arrived at the festival at 9:30am, That's thirty minutes after they opened, which was thirty minutes before my presentation. That's when I noticed all the other authors sitting at tables, ready to sign their books. And that's when I began to question why I wasn't invited to sign books throughout the entire festival. And that's when my jaw began to drop.
So I went and gave my presentation...
,,,and afterwards, I promptly went to the table where my books were stacked and I sat there until 3pm like the good author that I am.
You know who has great readers? I do! You know who else has great readers? . One of her readers brought a lot homemade cookies based on her books.
Who's that making a face at my cookies? Another author who has amazing readers, . One of her readers brought her senior portraits to the festival, and each picture included books by her favorite author: Ms. Whitaker. While this was my first time meeting Alecia, I had so much fun with her as my seatmate that I will now refer to her as my Sister-From-Another-Mister. The first book I bought at the festival was Wildflower. And yes, of course I had it signed!
An author I'm always happy to see and hang out with while traveling is . His shirt, in Arabic, reads "Love Conquers Hate". That matched perfectly with my purple shirt, worn in tribute to Prince, who passed away the day before.
I got to meet author , and found out that he's the husband of the person at Penguin who organized last school year's 貹.
A book I've been looking forward to reading, The Serpent King, was written by . And now, I own a signed copy! Even better than that, Jeff taught me a new way to eat apples, from the top down, which makes it possible to devour core-and-all. So weird! And so cool!
I also had a great time discussing the fun of co-authoring books with the co-authors of the , Lorie Langdon and Carey Corp.
The second day of the conference, the organizers were able to squeeze me onto an author panel discussion, which is something I love to do (despite what they had been told). I even got to pose for my first selfie-stick photo with many of my fellow .
Thanks for a great week, Kentucky!
April 11, 2016
The Doors of Perception
Last week, I spoke at Royal Palm Beach High School in Florida. (I know, sometimes being an author requires you to drag yourself to a place called Royal Palm Beach.) RPBHS was in the midst of week-long events and discussions based around Thirteen Reasons Why. So I'm guessing that's why they invited me!
One student asked me, "Is it weird to think that a whole school is doing this around something you wrote?" Yes, it is. It's very weird!
And it's one of the most amazing things an author can experience.
Students designed book-specific bookmarks, which I've already given a prime spot in my office. But I'm going to assume none of the students ever used the bookmarks while reading 13RW...because they couldn't stop reading it!
Another student designed this poster in the library.
The office door in the library was full of positive notes left by students and faculty.
Then it was time to speak to an audience where so many of the students had already read my book.
During lunch, I dined on Chipotle (they donated everything!) with a group of students wearing shirts designed for this week. These students were chosen from a larger group of students who had created projects--posters, displays, wordles...--dealing with my book.
Then...time to speak again!
Before I left, I was taken on a tour of decorated classroom doors that won a school-wide contest.
Doors, man! I've never been so emotionally moved by...doors!!!
One student asked me, "Is it weird to think that a whole school is doing this around something you wrote?" Yes, it is. It's very weird!
And it's one of the most amazing things an author can experience.
Students designed book-specific bookmarks, which I've already given a prime spot in my office. But I'm going to assume none of the students ever used the bookmarks while reading 13RW...because they couldn't stop reading it!
Another student designed this poster in the library.
The office door in the library was full of positive notes left by students and faculty.
Then it was time to speak to an audience where so many of the students had already read my book.
During lunch, I dined on Chipotle (they donated everything!) with a group of students wearing shirts designed for this week. These students were chosen from a larger group of students who had created projects--posters, displays, wordles...--dealing with my book.
Then...time to speak again!
Before I left, I was taken on a tour of decorated classroom doors that won a school-wide contest.
Doors, man! I've never been so emotionally moved by...doors!!!
April 3, 2016
Between 2 Holidays: ILLINOIS
I usually do a lot of travelling around Easter, though I would never miss being home on that special morning. Like most years, this Easter began with an egg hunt, followed by a hike up Terrace Hill with JoanMarie and Isaiah for a hilltop service.
The next morning, I flew to Illinois to do my part in two week-long high school events. But when I got to my hotel that night, it was being evacuated. The police officer told me it was for "hazmat issues." If you care to know what that issue was, you can .
So that's a new travel experience that may find its way into a story one day...
The first school I visited, Lakes Community High School, was in the midst of . Obviously, I'm very pleased with how my author career has unfolded, but I've attended enough events similar to this one to wonder where my interests may have turned if I'd been introduced to so many different types of writing careers.
Swag!
The one speaker I got to hear, , had a crazy story about how she found her way to crime fiction, It involved dead bodies being brought to her home as a child, and a photo of her Barbie doll in a bodybag.
I shared my author experience with two groups of students in the theater, and led a workshop on writing suspense to a smaller group of writers.
The "green room" was backstage, where departing theater students had left messages on the walls for future students. I love the sentiment below.
The next day, I spoke at Grayslake North High School's Spark Week. Here, many types of arts are explored with many speakers and performers.
At one of my presentations, I was introduced by two students who sang while one of them played the ukulele. I love ukulele! I own a ukulele! This student, though, played her ukulele much better than me. And both students sang much better than me. But, whatever...
Another one of my presentations had me introduced by an accordion and singing pirates. In this case, I have no relation to either the accordion or pirates.
I'm seeing these Writers Week and Spark Week ideas pop up more and more throughout the country, and I really hope it keeps growing. And I hope they keep inviting me!
The next day, I returned home. And I made it home in time to celebrate another beautiful holiday: April Fools' Day!
This year, my son and I made his likeness using a wig, Charlie Brown, and footie pajamas. In the morning, Isaiah told JoanMarie he was going out back to play, and when she and I opened the curtains a few minutes later, "Isaiah" was holding on by one arm to the roof's rain gutter.
Next year's prank is already being planned.
The next morning, I flew to Illinois to do my part in two week-long high school events. But when I got to my hotel that night, it was being evacuated. The police officer told me it was for "hazmat issues." If you care to know what that issue was, you can .
So that's a new travel experience that may find its way into a story one day...
The first school I visited, Lakes Community High School, was in the midst of . Obviously, I'm very pleased with how my author career has unfolded, but I've attended enough events similar to this one to wonder where my interests may have turned if I'd been introduced to so many different types of writing careers.
Swag!
The one speaker I got to hear, , had a crazy story about how she found her way to crime fiction, It involved dead bodies being brought to her home as a child, and a photo of her Barbie doll in a bodybag.
I shared my author experience with two groups of students in the theater, and led a workshop on writing suspense to a smaller group of writers.
The "green room" was backstage, where departing theater students had left messages on the walls for future students. I love the sentiment below.
The next day, I spoke at Grayslake North High School's Spark Week. Here, many types of arts are explored with many speakers and performers.
At one of my presentations, I was introduced by two students who sang while one of them played the ukulele. I love ukulele! I own a ukulele! This student, though, played her ukulele much better than me. And both students sang much better than me. But, whatever...
Another one of my presentations had me introduced by an accordion and singing pirates. In this case, I have no relation to either the accordion or pirates.
I'm seeing these Writers Week and Spark Week ideas pop up more and more throughout the country, and I really hope it keeps growing. And I hope they keep inviting me!
The next day, I returned home. And I made it home in time to celebrate another beautiful holiday: April Fools' Day!
This year, my son and I made his likeness using a wig, Charlie Brown, and footie pajamas. In the morning, Isaiah told JoanMarie he was going out back to play, and when she and I opened the curtains a few minutes later, "Isaiah" was holding on by one arm to the roof's rain gutter.
Next year's prank is already being planned.
March 27, 2016
Happy Easter!
The following is my annual Easter re-post.
Every so often, a reader tells me their impression of something I wrote in a way that deepens my own understanding of my own words. Someone in Florida once told me how a decision one of my characters made helped her illustrate a sentiment she'd been trying to get across to her friends.
Here's what she told me:
When I read that, my heart leapt! Since there was no way I could say it any better, I immediately knew I'd be using her words in future speeches...and blog posts.
So what does this have to do with Easter?
One of the most beautiful ideas surrounding this holiday is that we're all given an opportunity to make corrections if we find ourselves traveling down a road we don't want to (or shouldn't) be on. In fact, we're given this opportunity to change every day. Every second! But sometimes we need a calendar to remind us.
Refresh. Repair. Rebirth. Whatever you want to call it...
Renewal is a wonderful blessing!
Easter 2016
Every so often, a reader tells me their impression of something I wrote in a way that deepens my own understanding of my own words. Someone in Florida once told me how a decision one of my characters made helped her illustrate a sentiment she'd been trying to get across to her friends.
Here's what she told me:
In the past, I've had to help friends realize that life goes on even after you've made a poor decision. Not because you move on or get over it, but because you grow as a result of it. You build something new, something with a higher purpose, using what you've learned as one of your bricks.
When I read that, my heart leapt! Since there was no way I could say it any better, I immediately knew I'd be using her words in future speeches...and blog posts.
So what does this have to do with Easter?
One of the most beautiful ideas surrounding this holiday is that we're all given an opportunity to make corrections if we find ourselves traveling down a road we don't want to (or shouldn't) be on. In fact, we're given this opportunity to change every day. Every second! But sometimes we need a calendar to remind us.
Refresh. Repair. Rebirth. Whatever you want to call it...
Renewal is a wonderful blessing!
Easter 2016
March 23, 2016
10th Anniversary Edition: THIRTEEN REASONS WHY
hardcover anniversary editionincludes special additional content
On sale: December 27, 2016
Thirteen Reasons Why up-to-date:#1 New York Times bestsellerover 2.5 million copies in print in the U.S.translated into 35 languages worldwidein production as a 13-episode series for Netflix (Tom McCarthy, director of Spotlight, recipient of the Academy Award for Best Picture, will direct the first two episodes; Brian Yorkey, Pulitzer Prize winning writer of Next to Normal, is the series creator and lead writer; executive producers: Steve Golin, Selena Gomez, Kristil Laiblin, Tom McCarthy, Diana Son, Michael Sugar, Kristen Teefey, Mandy Teefey, Joy Gorman Wettels, Brian Yorkey)
On sale: December 27, 2016
Thirteen Reasons Why up-to-date:#1 New York Times bestsellerover 2.5 million copies in print in the U.S.translated into 35 languages worldwidein production as a 13-episode series for Netflix (Tom McCarthy, director of Spotlight, recipient of the Academy Award for Best Picture, will direct the first two episodes; Brian Yorkey, Pulitzer Prize winning writer of Next to Normal, is the series creator and lead writer; executive producers: Steve Golin, Selena Gomez, Kristil Laiblin, Tom McCarthy, Diana Son, Michael Sugar, Kristen Teefey, Mandy Teefey, Joy Gorman Wettels, Brian Yorkey)
March 13, 2016
Ontario Teen Book Fest: Part 2
There's something going on in Ontario!
I was all set to proclaim yesterday's visit to the one of my best days as an author, but then I reviewed the post about my in 2012. Apparently (and now I fully remember), that was also one of my best days as an author.
Yesterday began when I woke up at 3am, and then drove to family friend (oh, and amazing author) 's to begin a 4-hour car ride. Sitting behind Mary in the photo below is her daughter, Rilian. Behind me is Rilian's friend, Jenna. Despite what our faces say, the coffee was delicious and necessary.
The book festival has grown a lot since my visit four years ago. For example, hashtags and selfies are much more common. In fact, many of the pics I'll post below were found using #OntarioTBF. And if you were a reader attending the festival who wanted selfies with authors, even if they were speaking you could get one!
A few times, unlike the photo above, actual versions of the authors could also be found in the same place.
, , , me, ,, , , , ,
, , ,
, ,
The organizer of the event was the extraordinary Courtney Saldana. Any continuing awesomeness of this festival is due to her work, and the volunteers she brings aboard.
The conference began with keynotes by me, Marissa, and then Andrew.
And I think we did rather well!
There were three panels that attendees could attend in the morning. Unfortunately, I only got to attend one. Fortunately, I got to be on it!
Lunch, which followed this panel, was provided by Panera. And I was happy to find no onions on my sandwich! Thank you, Panera.
Full bellies make authors very happy.
Not an accurate depiction of our height difference.
Not an accurate depiction of the hair on Jessica's chin.(She doesn't have any.)
Unfortunately, I could only attend one of the afternoon's three panels. Fortunately, I was on that one, too!
During the massive book signing, Mary and I had the chance to sign another author's book...and it wasn't even vandalism!
Bonus material from Cress by Marissa Meyer.
And look at this reader's homemade shirt!!!
Thank you, OTBF, for another wonderful festival. And thank you for this wonderful tag, which featured the cover of my next book. (A copy of is headed your way, Courtney!)
I was all set to proclaim yesterday's visit to the one of my best days as an author, but then I reviewed the post about my in 2012. Apparently (and now I fully remember), that was also one of my best days as an author.
Yesterday began when I woke up at 3am, and then drove to family friend (oh, and amazing author) 's to begin a 4-hour car ride. Sitting behind Mary in the photo below is her daughter, Rilian. Behind me is Rilian's friend, Jenna. Despite what our faces say, the coffee was delicious and necessary.
The book festival has grown a lot since my visit four years ago. For example, hashtags and selfies are much more common. In fact, many of the pics I'll post below were found using #OntarioTBF. And if you were a reader attending the festival who wanted selfies with authors, even if they were speaking you could get one!
A few times, unlike the photo above, actual versions of the authors could also be found in the same place.
, , , me, ,, , , , ,
, , ,
, ,
The organizer of the event was the extraordinary Courtney Saldana. Any continuing awesomeness of this festival is due to her work, and the volunteers she brings aboard.
The conference began with keynotes by me, Marissa, and then Andrew.
And I think we did rather well!
There were three panels that attendees could attend in the morning. Unfortunately, I only got to attend one. Fortunately, I got to be on it!
Lunch, which followed this panel, was provided by Panera. And I was happy to find no onions on my sandwich! Thank you, Panera.
Full bellies make authors very happy.
Not an accurate depiction of our height difference.
Not an accurate depiction of the hair on Jessica's chin.(She doesn't have any.)
Unfortunately, I could only attend one of the afternoon's three panels. Fortunately, I was on that one, too!
During the massive book signing, Mary and I had the chance to sign another author's book...and it wasn't even vandalism!
Bonus material from Cress by Marissa Meyer.
And look at this reader's homemade shirt!!!
Thank you, OTBF, for another wonderful festival. And thank you for this wonderful tag, which featured the cover of my next book. (A copy of is headed your way, Courtney!)
March 9, 2016
Spring 2016 Children's Books
Browsing through the Spring 2016 Children’s Books issue of Publishers Weekly, these are the recently released (or soon-to-be released) middle-grade and teen novels that most grabbed my attention:
The Head of the Saintby Socorro Acioli, trans. by Daniel Hahn. A Brazilian boy who lives in a giant, hollow, concrete head of St. Anthony can hear people’s prayers—and decides to answer them.
The Leaving by Tara Altebrando. Eleven years after six kindergartners went missing without a trace, five of them return—not knowing where they’ve been.
The Way Back to Youby Michelle Andreani and Mindi Scott. Two teens take a road trip to meet three people who received their late best friend’s organs.
The Parent Agencyby David Baddiel. Tired of his strict parents, Barry makes a wish that transports him to a world where kids choose their own parents.
Some of the Partsby Hannah Barnaby. Grieving her older brother’s death, Tallie tries to track down the recipients of his donated organs.
Nine, Ten: A September 11 Story by Nora Raleigh Baskin offers a look at the days leading up to the tragic events and how that day impacted the lives of four middle schoolers in different part of the country.
Scarlett Epstein Hates It Here by Anna Breslaw. A teen finds an outlet for her fanfic writing by posting a fanfiction narrative about her schoolmates online.
The Classy Crooks Club by Alison Cherry. AJ discovers that her strict grandmother’s “bridge group� is actually a club of crooks.
The Season of You and Me by Robin Constantine. After her boyfriend breaks up with her, Cassidy falls for a paralyzed fellow counselor at a summer camp.
Sticks and Stonesby Abby Cooper. A girl who has a rare disorder that makes words people say about her appear on her body finds ways to accept who she is.
Hot Pterodactyl Boyfriend by Alan Cumyn. Shiels falls for the first-ever interspecies transfer student at her school.
Breaker by Kat Ellis. The death count on campus rises after Kyle, son of an executed serial killer, arrives at his new school.
The Secret Destiny of Pixie Piper by Annabelle Fisher, illus. by Natalie Andrewson is the first of a duology about a girl descended from Mother Goose.
Cleo Edison Oliver, Playground Millionaire by Sundee T. Frazier. Inspired by a woman entrepreneur on TV, Cleo launches a tooth-pulling business at school.
Twisted by Hannah Jayne. When her father is accused of being a serial killer, Bex becomes the ultimate bait in a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
The Deadly 7 by Garth Jennings. An ancient machine pulls the seven deadly sins from a boy’s soul, turning them into creatures who help find his missing sister.
Dreamology by Lucy Keating. After Alice falls in love with the boy who has long appeared in her dreams, he shows up at her new school.
The Museum of Heartbreak by Meg Leder, photos by Jill Wachter. Penelope curates a mini-museum dedicated to all the different heartbreaks—love and friendship� in her life.
The Sleepover by Jen Malone. Three friends try to piece together the evidently outrageous antics of their sleepover the night before, when they may have been hypnotized.
Save Me, Kurt Cobainby Jenny Manzer. A girl who’s been adrift since her mother vanished suspects that Kurt Cobain is still alive—and that he’s her father.
How to Hang a Witchby Adriana Mather. Sam discovers she’s at the center of a centuries-old curse affecting anyone with ties to the Salem witch trials.
Nowhere Boys by Elise McCredie. After four boys spend a stormy night in the bush, they return home to discover that no one knows them.
26 Kisses by Anna Michels. After a break-up, Veda finds the perfect solution to heal her heartbreak by embarking on a summer-long quest to kiss 26 boys—one for every letter of the alphabet.
Gemini by Sonya Mukherjee. The story of 17-year-old conjoined twins is told in alternating perspectives, marking Mukherjee’s debut.
The Greatest Zombie Movie Ever by Jeff Strand. Justin and his filmmaking buddies decide it’s time to make the greatest zombie movie ever.
The Last Boy and Girl in the World by Siobhan Vivian. Keeley and her friends make the most of their remaining time together after a storm floods their hometown and everyone is ordered to pack up and leave.
Demon Dentist by David Walliams, illus. by Tony Ross. Is the new dentist in town responsible for the creepy crawlies appearing under kids� pillows in place of coins from the tooth fairy?
Dreamers Often Lieby Jacqueline West. After a high-school actress fractures her skull, she’s afraid to admit that she’s hallucinating about Shakespeare.
The Head of the Saintby Socorro Acioli, trans. by Daniel Hahn. A Brazilian boy who lives in a giant, hollow, concrete head of St. Anthony can hear people’s prayers—and decides to answer them.
The Leaving by Tara Altebrando. Eleven years after six kindergartners went missing without a trace, five of them return—not knowing where they’ve been.
The Way Back to Youby Michelle Andreani and Mindi Scott. Two teens take a road trip to meet three people who received their late best friend’s organs.
The Parent Agencyby David Baddiel. Tired of his strict parents, Barry makes a wish that transports him to a world where kids choose their own parents.
Some of the Partsby Hannah Barnaby. Grieving her older brother’s death, Tallie tries to track down the recipients of his donated organs.
Nine, Ten: A September 11 Story by Nora Raleigh Baskin offers a look at the days leading up to the tragic events and how that day impacted the lives of four middle schoolers in different part of the country.
Scarlett Epstein Hates It Here by Anna Breslaw. A teen finds an outlet for her fanfic writing by posting a fanfiction narrative about her schoolmates online.
The Classy Crooks Club by Alison Cherry. AJ discovers that her strict grandmother’s “bridge group� is actually a club of crooks.
The Season of You and Me by Robin Constantine. After her boyfriend breaks up with her, Cassidy falls for a paralyzed fellow counselor at a summer camp.
Sticks and Stonesby Abby Cooper. A girl who has a rare disorder that makes words people say about her appear on her body finds ways to accept who she is.
Hot Pterodactyl Boyfriend by Alan Cumyn. Shiels falls for the first-ever interspecies transfer student at her school.
Breaker by Kat Ellis. The death count on campus rises after Kyle, son of an executed serial killer, arrives at his new school.
The Secret Destiny of Pixie Piper by Annabelle Fisher, illus. by Natalie Andrewson is the first of a duology about a girl descended from Mother Goose.
Cleo Edison Oliver, Playground Millionaire by Sundee T. Frazier. Inspired by a woman entrepreneur on TV, Cleo launches a tooth-pulling business at school.
Twisted by Hannah Jayne. When her father is accused of being a serial killer, Bex becomes the ultimate bait in a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
The Deadly 7 by Garth Jennings. An ancient machine pulls the seven deadly sins from a boy’s soul, turning them into creatures who help find his missing sister.
Dreamology by Lucy Keating. After Alice falls in love with the boy who has long appeared in her dreams, he shows up at her new school.
The Museum of Heartbreak by Meg Leder, photos by Jill Wachter. Penelope curates a mini-museum dedicated to all the different heartbreaks—love and friendship� in her life.
The Sleepover by Jen Malone. Three friends try to piece together the evidently outrageous antics of their sleepover the night before, when they may have been hypnotized.
Save Me, Kurt Cobainby Jenny Manzer. A girl who’s been adrift since her mother vanished suspects that Kurt Cobain is still alive—and that he’s her father.
How to Hang a Witchby Adriana Mather. Sam discovers she’s at the center of a centuries-old curse affecting anyone with ties to the Salem witch trials.
Nowhere Boys by Elise McCredie. After four boys spend a stormy night in the bush, they return home to discover that no one knows them.
26 Kisses by Anna Michels. After a break-up, Veda finds the perfect solution to heal her heartbreak by embarking on a summer-long quest to kiss 26 boys—one for every letter of the alphabet.
Gemini by Sonya Mukherjee. The story of 17-year-old conjoined twins is told in alternating perspectives, marking Mukherjee’s debut.
The Greatest Zombie Movie Ever by Jeff Strand. Justin and his filmmaking buddies decide it’s time to make the greatest zombie movie ever.
The Last Boy and Girl in the World by Siobhan Vivian. Keeley and her friends make the most of their remaining time together after a storm floods their hometown and everyone is ordered to pack up and leave.
Demon Dentist by David Walliams, illus. by Tony Ross. Is the new dentist in town responsible for the creepy crawlies appearing under kids� pillows in place of coins from the tooth fairy?
Dreamers Often Lieby Jacqueline West. After a high-school actress fractures her skull, she’s afraid to admit that she’s hallucinating about Shakespeare.
March 1, 2016
Back At It: YORBA LINDA
Last week I spoke at the Yorba Linda Public Library. It was my first author talk since before Thanksgiving, so my nerves were hitting hard. But I knew it was friendly territory because Amy, the teen librarian who set this up, used to work at the San Luis Obispo Public Library. And that's where I used to work!
So we're basically family.
I love seeing book displays at libraries and bookstores based around topics. Or, if there's an author visit, a display of books that touch on similar themes.
I gave my first author talk eight-and-a-half years ago, so it's rare to see something done for the very first time. But at this library, they labeled the refreshment stations after places in Thirteen Reasons Why! The coffee table became Monet's Garden...
...and if you wanted a root beer float, you went to Rosie's Diner.
The audience was great, which isn't unusual...thankfully!
But I was especially grateful to have such a good audience for this visit. This was my first talk where I was able to mention two exciting career developments. As you can see by the screen behind me, I can now talk about three Ǵǰ:Thirteen Reasons Why, The Future of Us, and , which comes out this October!
It takes a long time for me to figure out the best way to describe a book, so this was my test audience for What Light. And I totally messed it up! But like I said, I was happy they were a great audience.
Here are members of the library's book group, as well as Amy on the far left.
The second development I was finally able to discuss publicly was the upcoming Thirteen Reasons Why Netflix series. The lucky audience in Yorba Linda also had the chance to meet, get pictures with, and speak to some of its producers and writers, who came out from Los Angeles to attend the event.
Maybe the next time I speak I'll have even more news to share!
So we're basically family.
I love seeing book displays at libraries and bookstores based around topics. Or, if there's an author visit, a display of books that touch on similar themes.
I gave my first author talk eight-and-a-half years ago, so it's rare to see something done for the very first time. But at this library, they labeled the refreshment stations after places in Thirteen Reasons Why! The coffee table became Monet's Garden...
...and if you wanted a root beer float, you went to Rosie's Diner.
The audience was great, which isn't unusual...thankfully!
But I was especially grateful to have such a good audience for this visit. This was my first talk where I was able to mention two exciting career developments. As you can see by the screen behind me, I can now talk about three Ǵǰ:Thirteen Reasons Why, The Future of Us, and , which comes out this October!
It takes a long time for me to figure out the best way to describe a book, so this was my test audience for What Light. And I totally messed it up! But like I said, I was happy they were a great audience.
Here are members of the library's book group, as well as Amy on the far left.
The second development I was finally able to discuss publicly was the upcoming Thirteen Reasons Why Netflix series. The lucky audience in Yorba Linda also had the chance to meet, get pictures with, and speak to some of its producers and writers, who came out from Los Angeles to attend the event.
Maybe the next time I speak I'll have even more news to share!
February 29, 2016
LEAP DAY by Jay Asher
Before becoming published as a YA author, I wrote--and unsuccessfully attempted to publish--novels for young children. One of those books almost sold. Set in the fourth grade, it was originally called The ChocoBarn Cow, and it won me a wonderful award from the . The Sue Alexander Award earned me a free trip to New York City where I met with several editors. One of those editors even wanted to buy it! But his publisher said, "Nope." I later changed the name of that book to My Udder Life, which didn't help it. But I still think it's a cool story!
And I moved on.
I began work on another book set in the fourth grade. At a national conference put on by SCBWI, I had the first few chapters critiqued by an editor at a major publishing house. She loved it! She asked to see the rest of it when I was finished. I said, "Okay!" And when I finished it, I sent it to her, and she said, "Nope."
So I moved on and I wrote Thirteen Reasons Why. (That got a whole lot of nopes, too. Thankfully, it only takes one yep!)
Since today is Leap Day, I thought I'd finally share the opening two chapters of that second novel with all of you. While this has never been professionally edited, I still think it's pretty dang cool.
It's called...
Leap Day by Jay Asher
30 days has September
April, June, and November
All the rest have 31
But February �
That one's fun!
Chapter 1
Tomorrow, my parents celebrate their tenth birthday. That’s right, tenth. A 1 followed by a 0. Here’s how it works:Mom and Dad were born on Leap Day—February 29th. Their birth certificates may say they were born forty years ago, but since February 29th comes around once every four years, tomorrow will only be the tenth time they’ve seen their actual birth date.I once figured it out, and there’s a 1 in 365 chance of being born on any normal day of the year, but a 1 in 1,461 chance of being born on Leap Day. But don’t even ask me the odds of two Leap Babies falling in love.When I get home from school tomorrow, they’re taking me to our town’s Leap Day Festival. Most towns don’t have Leap Day Festivals, but that’s because most towns aren’t boring enough to need one. Years before I was born, the mayor decided we should create a one-of-a-kind festival that would draw people from miles around. A Leap Day Festival won the most votes before anyone realized they’d have to wait another three years to throw one.But back to today—or Leap Day Eve, as my parents call it.Dad sits on the corner of my bed fiddling with a plastic rooster alarm clock. Normally, Mom would wake me up before leaving for work in the morning, but tomorrow my parents are going out for a birthday breakfast. So Dad bought me this rooster so I can get up on my own. It’s supposed to cock-a-doodle-doo and flap its wings, but one of its wings has something more like a nervous twitch than a flap.“That’s okay,� I say. “As long as it crows, I’ll get up.”“Jacob, if one part is broken, there’s usually something else broken, too,� Dad says.I lay back and pull the blanket over my head. Dad is notMr. Fix-It and I do not want to see what’s about to happen.“Don’t you want the rooster to flap its wings like it’s supposed to?� he asks. “Right now, it looks more like it’s waving.”“Whatever you do,� I say, my voice muffled by the blanket, “just make it quick…and painless.”“All I need to do is add a little pressure to the—�Snap!I throw the blanket to my waist and sit up. “What was that?”In one hand, Dad holds the rooster. In the other, he holds a wing. “Although,� he says, “a waving rooster is a nice thing to wake up to.”I hold out my hands and ask him to give me the injured bird before he does any more damage to it. Then I place the rooster on my nightstand, out of his reach.“You know,� he says, patting my leg, “you’re lucky. Being ten years old is a blast. It’s probably the most fun you’ll have in your whole life—and it lasts an entire year!”What a weird thing to say. First of all, luck has nothing to do with it. No one gets to be eleven without being ten years old first. And second of all, Dad hated being ten.For example, hanging at the top of our stairs are three picture frames. One for me, one for Mom, and one for Dad. Mom and Dad’s frames each hold twelve pictures, from first grade through high school. Mine shows first, second, and third grades, with nine spaces left to fill. I sincerely hope the fourth grade photo I took earlier this year looks nothing like Dad’s. In his photo, he has one cowlick at the top of his head, and another over his left ear. His glasses tilt to the right and his smile has a large gap in the middle of his teeth. The funniest thing about all of his pictures, though, are the eyes. In half of them his eyes are open. In the other half, they’re closed. If you look from one picture to the next real fast, it looks like he’s blinking.The front door shuts and I hear Mom drop her heels onto the tile and then walk upstairs. It was another late night at work. Dad gets up and opens my bedroom door, greeting Mom with a dozen chicken-peck kisses. They’re always doing silly stuff like that.Mom tickles Dad’s mustache with her fingernails. “No more pricklies tomorrow,� she says. “I can’t wait.”“Are you shaving off your mustache?� I ask. I’ve never seen Dad’s upper lip before. I wonder if it’ll look pale compared to the rest of his face since it’s been out of the sun for years.He smiles at Mom, and then looks at me. “You’ll have to wait until after school to find out.”“Oh, let’s not wait that long,� Mom says. “Let’s show him first thing in the morning!”“But we won’t be here when he wakes up,� Dad says. “Remember? We’re going out for breakfast.”The way he looks at Mom, I know there’s more to this breakfast thing than they’re letting on. It’s that look you give a friend who isn’t sticking to the story.“But it’ll be fun to wake him up,� Mom says.That’s the kind of weird stuff they’ve been saying all week. Why should it be fun to wake me up? Every morning, I do the same things. I stretch. I yawn. Sometimes I rub my eyes. And then I go to the bathroom. How exciting is that?Dad cocks his eyebrow and looks at the ceiling. A silly grin creeps onto his face. “Maybe you’re right,� he says. “Waking him up would be fun.”Enough! “What are you talking about?”“Nothing,� Dad says. He reaches over and messes up my hair. “Goodnight, Jacob.”Mom leans down and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, sugar dimples.� She shuts off my light, and when I hear their door close, I flip on my desk lamp.For the next forty-five minutes (according to my one-winged rooster), I sit in bed trying to read. In that time, I don’t flip a single page. I can hear Mom and Dad walking around their bedroom, talking. Usually, they’re asleep within a half hour after leaving my room.I creep out of bed, tiptoe to my door, and peek down the hall. It’s dark except for a thin sliver of light around their bedroom door. They have a rule about bedroom doors. If they’re shut all the way, you’d better knock before entering. But if it’s cracked even a little it might as well be wide open. I tiptoe down the hall and stand outside their door to listen.“I’m having second thoughts,� Dad says. “If we tell him before school, he’ll flip out and won’t be able to focus all day.”“We need to tell him before school,� Mom says. “I can’t wait any longer!”“Believe me, I want to tell him just as badly as you,� Dad says. “Do you remember how much he used to whine about being the only child in the house?”They both laugh and tell each other to keep it down or they’ll wake me. But it’s too late. The secret is out. I’m going to be a big brother!“I remember that whining,� Mom says. “These two will definitely solve that.”Twins? I’m going to be a big brother to twins?I can’t stand it any longer, so I burst into the room and throw my arms open wide. “Congratulations!”They both stand in front of their dresser mirror holding clothes up to their bodies as if modeling. But the clothes aren’t big enough for them, nor are they small enough for newborn twins. They’re my-size clothes.“Jacob!� Mom says. “What are you doing up?”They scramble to bury the clothes into dresser drawers. Dad shoves a pair of jeans and a green hooded sweater into his underwear drawer. Mom stuffs a red sweater and a black skirt into her sock drawer.“Were you eavesdropping?� Dad asks, finally getting his drawer to shut.“No,� I lie.Mom closes her drawer. “Then what were you doing out there?”“Listening…very quietly,� I say. “What were youdoing?”“Nothing,� Mom says, leaning against the drawer. “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”“First tell me whose clothes those are.”“They’re ours,� Dad says.“They are not,� I say. “They’re too small for you.”After they exchange awkward stares, I can tell the conversation is over. But before shutting the door all the way, I poke my head back in and say, “Don’t think I don’t know,� and I watch their eyes grow wide. It can be nice to catch parents in a lie. The next time they catch me in a lie I can say, “But I learned it from watching you.� Sometimes that works. Other times I lose a week’s allowance.So they aren’t having twins after all, because the clothes are too big for that. Instead, they must be adopting, which is great except for the fact that—based on the clothes—they’re adopting a boy and girl who are the same age as me. And the two of them will probably gang up on me because they’re probably already brother and sister.I mean, what else could it be?
Chapter 2
I’m laying on the dirty, stinky floor of a monkey cage with banana peels and monkey poop all around me. Two hyper monkeys squeal and jump around my body, high-fiving each other every time they crisscross over me.The monkey squeals soon fade into children laughing, and I wake up from a dream to find two kids I’ve never seen before bouncing on my bed. The mattress bobbles my head from side to side, and with the window shade down, I can’t tell if it’s two boys or two girls or one boy and one girl or what.“Get off—get off�get off!� I shout.They continue leaping and laughing and crisscrossing my body. Every time they land, my blanket pulls further and further down the bed.“Help!� I scream, trying to wake Mom and Dad. The bouncing kids laugh even harder. “Help!� I scream again.But no one comes to my rescue.I watch the feet of the giggling bouncers and, when they land at the same time, I yank up hard on the blanket. Their legs whip skyward, their bottoms land on the edge of the bed, and they bounce clumsy backward somersaults to the floor.Thump-thump!Followed by silence.Followed by more laughter as they spring up from the floor, run through my open door, and skitter down the hall. “Outta my way! Outta my way!� I can hear them push each other against the walls and laugh the entire time they chase each other downstairs.From my bed, I whisper, “Mom? Dad?� Again, no one answers.I creep out of bed, tiptoe across my floor, and peek down the hall. I can still hear the two kids monkeying around downstairs, this time using the couch as a trampoline. Whoever they are, my parents are going to make their parents ground them for life.On the top of my dresser, I always keep my clothes for the next day. Dad says that if you ever need to leave in a hurry, it’s best to be wearing more than your underwear. I slip into my shirt and pants and socks and shoes in under thirty seconds.I sprint out my door and down the hall into Mom and Dad’s room. I slam shut their door and fall back against it. In their room, the bed isn’t made, which is unusual, and the underwear and sock drawers hang open.Slamming the door must have caught the gigglers� attention because downstairs goes quiet. The silence feels more disturbing than the running and laughing…until that silence is broken by a girl’s voice.“Jacob,� she says, “would you mind coming downstairs?”I see three clear choices before me. I can go downstairs and face them. I can wait for them to come up here. Or I can jump from the second-story window into a rosebush that needs pruning.I slowly turn the doorknob, ease open the door, and step into the hall.My heart thump-thump-thumps in my chest and my breathing is quick. My eyes stare hypnotized at the approaching stairs. In a few short steps, I’ll be peering over the edge at the two intruders.And there they are, smiling up at me. A boy and a girl.He’s wearing jeans and a green hooded sweater. But his face…I recognize his face! I look over at Dad’s pictures hanging on the wall and scan from first grade to the fourth. No! I look down at the girl. She’s wearing a red sweater with a black skirt. Then I look at Mom’s fourth grade picture. No way!Behind me, the plastic rooster crows. Cock-a-doodle-doo!The girl stretches out her arms to me. “Good morning, sugar dimples.”My head feels light, like I’m about to pass out. My knees collapse, and I tumble down the stairs.
And I moved on.
I began work on another book set in the fourth grade. At a national conference put on by SCBWI, I had the first few chapters critiqued by an editor at a major publishing house. She loved it! She asked to see the rest of it when I was finished. I said, "Okay!" And when I finished it, I sent it to her, and she said, "Nope."
So I moved on and I wrote Thirteen Reasons Why. (That got a whole lot of nopes, too. Thankfully, it only takes one yep!)
Since today is Leap Day, I thought I'd finally share the opening two chapters of that second novel with all of you. While this has never been professionally edited, I still think it's pretty dang cool.
It's called...
Leap Day by Jay Asher
30 days has September
April, June, and November
All the rest have 31
But February �
That one's fun!
Chapter 1
Tomorrow, my parents celebrate their tenth birthday. That’s right, tenth. A 1 followed by a 0. Here’s how it works:Mom and Dad were born on Leap Day—February 29th. Their birth certificates may say they were born forty years ago, but since February 29th comes around once every four years, tomorrow will only be the tenth time they’ve seen their actual birth date.I once figured it out, and there’s a 1 in 365 chance of being born on any normal day of the year, but a 1 in 1,461 chance of being born on Leap Day. But don’t even ask me the odds of two Leap Babies falling in love.When I get home from school tomorrow, they’re taking me to our town’s Leap Day Festival. Most towns don’t have Leap Day Festivals, but that’s because most towns aren’t boring enough to need one. Years before I was born, the mayor decided we should create a one-of-a-kind festival that would draw people from miles around. A Leap Day Festival won the most votes before anyone realized they’d have to wait another three years to throw one.But back to today—or Leap Day Eve, as my parents call it.Dad sits on the corner of my bed fiddling with a plastic rooster alarm clock. Normally, Mom would wake me up before leaving for work in the morning, but tomorrow my parents are going out for a birthday breakfast. So Dad bought me this rooster so I can get up on my own. It’s supposed to cock-a-doodle-doo and flap its wings, but one of its wings has something more like a nervous twitch than a flap.“That’s okay,� I say. “As long as it crows, I’ll get up.”“Jacob, if one part is broken, there’s usually something else broken, too,� Dad says.I lay back and pull the blanket over my head. Dad is notMr. Fix-It and I do not want to see what’s about to happen.“Don’t you want the rooster to flap its wings like it’s supposed to?� he asks. “Right now, it looks more like it’s waving.”“Whatever you do,� I say, my voice muffled by the blanket, “just make it quick…and painless.”“All I need to do is add a little pressure to the—�Snap!I throw the blanket to my waist and sit up. “What was that?”In one hand, Dad holds the rooster. In the other, he holds a wing. “Although,� he says, “a waving rooster is a nice thing to wake up to.”I hold out my hands and ask him to give me the injured bird before he does any more damage to it. Then I place the rooster on my nightstand, out of his reach.“You know,� he says, patting my leg, “you’re lucky. Being ten years old is a blast. It’s probably the most fun you’ll have in your whole life—and it lasts an entire year!”What a weird thing to say. First of all, luck has nothing to do with it. No one gets to be eleven without being ten years old first. And second of all, Dad hated being ten.For example, hanging at the top of our stairs are three picture frames. One for me, one for Mom, and one for Dad. Mom and Dad’s frames each hold twelve pictures, from first grade through high school. Mine shows first, second, and third grades, with nine spaces left to fill. I sincerely hope the fourth grade photo I took earlier this year looks nothing like Dad’s. In his photo, he has one cowlick at the top of his head, and another over his left ear. His glasses tilt to the right and his smile has a large gap in the middle of his teeth. The funniest thing about all of his pictures, though, are the eyes. In half of them his eyes are open. In the other half, they’re closed. If you look from one picture to the next real fast, it looks like he’s blinking.The front door shuts and I hear Mom drop her heels onto the tile and then walk upstairs. It was another late night at work. Dad gets up and opens my bedroom door, greeting Mom with a dozen chicken-peck kisses. They’re always doing silly stuff like that.Mom tickles Dad’s mustache with her fingernails. “No more pricklies tomorrow,� she says. “I can’t wait.”“Are you shaving off your mustache?� I ask. I’ve never seen Dad’s upper lip before. I wonder if it’ll look pale compared to the rest of his face since it’s been out of the sun for years.He smiles at Mom, and then looks at me. “You’ll have to wait until after school to find out.”“Oh, let’s not wait that long,� Mom says. “Let’s show him first thing in the morning!”“But we won’t be here when he wakes up,� Dad says. “Remember? We’re going out for breakfast.”The way he looks at Mom, I know there’s more to this breakfast thing than they’re letting on. It’s that look you give a friend who isn’t sticking to the story.“But it’ll be fun to wake him up,� Mom says.That’s the kind of weird stuff they’ve been saying all week. Why should it be fun to wake me up? Every morning, I do the same things. I stretch. I yawn. Sometimes I rub my eyes. And then I go to the bathroom. How exciting is that?Dad cocks his eyebrow and looks at the ceiling. A silly grin creeps onto his face. “Maybe you’re right,� he says. “Waking him up would be fun.”Enough! “What are you talking about?”“Nothing,� Dad says. He reaches over and messes up my hair. “Goodnight, Jacob.”Mom leans down and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, sugar dimples.� She shuts off my light, and when I hear their door close, I flip on my desk lamp.For the next forty-five minutes (according to my one-winged rooster), I sit in bed trying to read. In that time, I don’t flip a single page. I can hear Mom and Dad walking around their bedroom, talking. Usually, they’re asleep within a half hour after leaving my room.I creep out of bed, tiptoe to my door, and peek down the hall. It’s dark except for a thin sliver of light around their bedroom door. They have a rule about bedroom doors. If they’re shut all the way, you’d better knock before entering. But if it’s cracked even a little it might as well be wide open. I tiptoe down the hall and stand outside their door to listen.“I’m having second thoughts,� Dad says. “If we tell him before school, he’ll flip out and won’t be able to focus all day.”“We need to tell him before school,� Mom says. “I can’t wait any longer!”“Believe me, I want to tell him just as badly as you,� Dad says. “Do you remember how much he used to whine about being the only child in the house?”They both laugh and tell each other to keep it down or they’ll wake me. But it’s too late. The secret is out. I’m going to be a big brother!“I remember that whining,� Mom says. “These two will definitely solve that.”Twins? I’m going to be a big brother to twins?I can’t stand it any longer, so I burst into the room and throw my arms open wide. “Congratulations!”They both stand in front of their dresser mirror holding clothes up to their bodies as if modeling. But the clothes aren’t big enough for them, nor are they small enough for newborn twins. They’re my-size clothes.“Jacob!� Mom says. “What are you doing up?”They scramble to bury the clothes into dresser drawers. Dad shoves a pair of jeans and a green hooded sweater into his underwear drawer. Mom stuffs a red sweater and a black skirt into her sock drawer.“Were you eavesdropping?� Dad asks, finally getting his drawer to shut.“No,� I lie.Mom closes her drawer. “Then what were you doing out there?”“Listening…very quietly,� I say. “What were youdoing?”“Nothing,� Mom says, leaning against the drawer. “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”“First tell me whose clothes those are.”“They’re ours,� Dad says.“They are not,� I say. “They’re too small for you.”After they exchange awkward stares, I can tell the conversation is over. But before shutting the door all the way, I poke my head back in and say, “Don’t think I don’t know,� and I watch their eyes grow wide. It can be nice to catch parents in a lie. The next time they catch me in a lie I can say, “But I learned it from watching you.� Sometimes that works. Other times I lose a week’s allowance.So they aren’t having twins after all, because the clothes are too big for that. Instead, they must be adopting, which is great except for the fact that—based on the clothes—they’re adopting a boy and girl who are the same age as me. And the two of them will probably gang up on me because they’re probably already brother and sister.I mean, what else could it be?
Chapter 2
I’m laying on the dirty, stinky floor of a monkey cage with banana peels and monkey poop all around me. Two hyper monkeys squeal and jump around my body, high-fiving each other every time they crisscross over me.The monkey squeals soon fade into children laughing, and I wake up from a dream to find two kids I’ve never seen before bouncing on my bed. The mattress bobbles my head from side to side, and with the window shade down, I can’t tell if it’s two boys or two girls or one boy and one girl or what.“Get off—get off�get off!� I shout.They continue leaping and laughing and crisscrossing my body. Every time they land, my blanket pulls further and further down the bed.“Help!� I scream, trying to wake Mom and Dad. The bouncing kids laugh even harder. “Help!� I scream again.But no one comes to my rescue.I watch the feet of the giggling bouncers and, when they land at the same time, I yank up hard on the blanket. Their legs whip skyward, their bottoms land on the edge of the bed, and they bounce clumsy backward somersaults to the floor.Thump-thump!Followed by silence.Followed by more laughter as they spring up from the floor, run through my open door, and skitter down the hall. “Outta my way! Outta my way!� I can hear them push each other against the walls and laugh the entire time they chase each other downstairs.From my bed, I whisper, “Mom? Dad?� Again, no one answers.I creep out of bed, tiptoe across my floor, and peek down the hall. I can still hear the two kids monkeying around downstairs, this time using the couch as a trampoline. Whoever they are, my parents are going to make their parents ground them for life.On the top of my dresser, I always keep my clothes for the next day. Dad says that if you ever need to leave in a hurry, it’s best to be wearing more than your underwear. I slip into my shirt and pants and socks and shoes in under thirty seconds.I sprint out my door and down the hall into Mom and Dad’s room. I slam shut their door and fall back against it. In their room, the bed isn’t made, which is unusual, and the underwear and sock drawers hang open.Slamming the door must have caught the gigglers� attention because downstairs goes quiet. The silence feels more disturbing than the running and laughing…until that silence is broken by a girl’s voice.“Jacob,� she says, “would you mind coming downstairs?”I see three clear choices before me. I can go downstairs and face them. I can wait for them to come up here. Or I can jump from the second-story window into a rosebush that needs pruning.I slowly turn the doorknob, ease open the door, and step into the hall.My heart thump-thump-thumps in my chest and my breathing is quick. My eyes stare hypnotized at the approaching stairs. In a few short steps, I’ll be peering over the edge at the two intruders.And there they are, smiling up at me. A boy and a girl.He’s wearing jeans and a green hooded sweater. But his face…I recognize his face! I look over at Dad’s pictures hanging on the wall and scan from first grade to the fourth. No! I look down at the girl. She’s wearing a red sweater with a black skirt. Then I look at Mom’s fourth grade picture. No way!Behind me, the plastic rooster crows. Cock-a-doodle-doo!The girl stretches out her arms to me. “Good morning, sugar dimples.”My head feels light, like I’m about to pass out. My knees collapse, and I tumble down the stairs.
February 28, 2016
Red Carpet Fantasies: Part IV
If you , you already know that I get very excited to watch the Academy Awards each year. Not just because I get to eat my traditional pint of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby, but because I'm also a movie freak!
One of my not-so-secret fantasies is to one day write an Oscar-nominated screenplay. If that happens, and I get the chance to walk the red carpet, the question then becomes What will I wear?What shall I do with my hair?
So, with the help of InStyle's , I decided to try on some hairdos of the nominated actresses of 2016...
Cate Blanchett for Carol:
Jennifer Lawrence for Joy:
Rachel McAdams for Spotlight:
Kate Winslet for Steve Jobs:
One of my not-so-secret fantasies is to one day write an Oscar-nominated screenplay. If that happens, and I get the chance to walk the red carpet, the question then becomes What will I wear?What shall I do with my hair?
So, with the help of InStyle's , I decided to try on some hairdos of the nominated actresses of 2016...
Cate Blanchett for Carol:
Jennifer Lawrence for Joy:
Rachel McAdams for Spotlight:
Kate Winslet for Steve Jobs:
