YA SCAVENGER HUNT- Jessica Shirvington

Welcome! I am so happy to be hosting Jessica Shirvington and her AMAZING book Embrace Series: EMBRACE

http://jessicashirvington.com

You are following TEAM BLUE so your clue letter will be in BLUE below.

It starts with a whisper: “It’s time for you to know who you are…”

Violet Eden dreads her seventeenth birthday. After all, it’s hard to get too excited about the day that marks the anniversary of your mother’s death. As if that wasn’t enough, disturbing dreams haunt her sleep and leave her with very real injuries. There’s a dark tattoo weaving its way up her arms that wasn’t there before.

Violet is determined to get some answers, but nothing could have prepared her for the truth. The guy she thought she could fall in love with has been keeping his identity a secret: he’s only half-human—oh, and same goes for her.

A centuries-old battle between fallen angels and the protectors of humanity has chosen its new warrior. It’s a fight Violet doesn’t want, but she lives her life by two rules: don’t run and don’t quit. When angels seek vengeance and humans are the warriors, you could do a lot worse than betting on Violet Eden…

BUY IT

Jessica Shirvington is the author of THE VIOLET EDEN CHAPTERS also known as THE EMBRACE SERIES. An entrepreneur, author, and mother living in Sydney, Australia, Jessica is a 2011 finalist for Cosmopolitan’s annual Fun, Fearless Female Award. She’s also one of the lucky few who met the love of her life at age seventeen: Matt Shirvington, a former Olympian and current sports broadcaster for FOXTEL and Sky News. Married for almost eleven years with two beautiful daughters, Sienna and Winter, Jessica knows her early age romance and its longevity has definitely contributed to how she tackles relationships in her YA novels. Previously, she founded a coffee distribution company, Stella Imports, in London, and before that was involved in the management of restaurants Fuel Bistro and MG Garage in Sydney. Jessica is now a full-time novelist and living her dream.

EMBRACE: DELETED SCENE FROM CHAPTER 4

Lincoln pulled up across the road from my apartment building and cut the engine. He hadn’t spoken on the trip home and I’d appreciated it. I’d already rehashed more of my past than I thought I’d ever be able to. And now…well, it was like ripping off a bandage and finding the wound was still there.

Lincoln unbuckled his seat belt and turned to me.

“I’m okay,” I said before he could ask.

He nodded, but his smile was grim and he looked at me knowingly. I struggled not to wriggle in my seat, feeling too exposed for comfort. Suddenly, his attention moved beyond me to my passenger seat window and the park behind me. Using his distraction, I decided to make a quick exit to avoid any more awkward moments. I jumped out of the car without looking and spun right into a guy dressed in a hard wall of black leather. The moment I bumped into his shoulder he reacted. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared like he recognized me.

And really didn’t like me.

Though he was dressed like a biker, it didn’t fully hide his soft boyish features. He had pale skin with rose patches marking his cheeks and full feminine lips. But when I saw his violent pale eyes, I knew – there was nothing gentle about him.

I swallowed and started to take a step back toward the car, but my foot barely found ground before Lincoln was there, pulling me behind him with winding force.

“Run!” he yelled, pushing me.

I stumbled but couldn’t take my eyes off Lincoln. Everything felt like it was happening in fast-forward. The biker struck out. Lincoln dodged and threw his shoulder into the stranger. Impossibly, they almost took flight for a few meters before tumbling into the dark park with a thud. My mind went into a kind of process-failure. I was shocked at Lincoln’s aggressive attack, but on some level I instinctively knew how savage his opponent was.

The fight continued, fast and violent, biker guy was relentless and even as Lincoln landed hits to his face and body, he just kept coming back for more. Neither one showed signs of tiring.

Lincoln kept looking over his shoulder at me, yelling for me to go. But my feet were glued and there was no way I was leaving him behind. A solid kick landed in Lincoln’s gut but he barely swayed with the movement, which had me shaking my head and squinting to get a better view in the dark.

How?

Standing there, watching the most brutal fight I’d ever witnessed, I couldn’t take my eyes off Lincoln. He was so controlled, and warrior-strong. It was like seeing him for the first time.

Somehow, the biker managed to get past Lincoln and he lunged in my direction. I was ready to fight. Subconsciously my feet had moved into position and my arms were ready. I mean, this was why I trained every day with Linc and even though I was out of my league, running wasn’t an option. He moved closer. I waited, timed my movement, then jumped and struck out with my right foot. I hit the biker square in the chest. His body was so solid the shock reverberated through my body, throwing me to the ground. I scrambled to get back on my feet. He was impossibly strong. I’d barely made in into a crouch when he stepped towards me, grinning. I braced, my mind racing through defensive maneuvers, but before I got a chance to do anything Lincoln was back between us and in a split second, he’d kicked out the biker’s knees.

It’s the move he’d always told me you reserved for times of absolute must. People don’t come back from having their knees blown out like that. The biker went down screaming and Lincoln, not pausing for a moment, grabbed my hand and pulled.

He was breathing hard, dragging me across the road. It wasn’t until we were at the back entrance of my building that he slowed down. I was dazed but I also understood that he was worried the biker could have friends nearby. But during the ‘drag home’ my shock had morphed into utter confusion.

“Are you okay?” I said, out of breath.

Lincoln nodded. “I’m fine.” And surprisingly he was, not a mark on him.

“What was that?” I said with a bite in my tone, now pulling my hand out of his. Because one thing was absolutely certain – Lincoln had reacted like someone ready for a fight. Like someone who’d expected it. And for some reason, that guy had been trying to get to me.

“You need to be more careful,” Lincoln snapped, as if it had all been my fault, as if my very existence had created the confrontation. “Next time I tell you to run, you run!”

I bristled at the dressing down. “I wasn’t about to just leave you. And I could’ve helped!” I was shaking, but still, a part of me had wanted to have my chance to defend myself. The whole reason I did all of this training was so that I could stand and fight. I was embarrassed that I’d had to be pushed to the side.

“No. You couldn’t.” He shook his head. “Not yet.”

It was true, and that made it worse. I couldn’t believe how bad this night had turned out.

“Are you okay?” he said, calming down.

“Fine,” I replied, also retreating. “Who was that guy?”

“I don’t know. But he would’ve hurt you if I hadn’t stepped in.” He watched me carefully. When he was satisfied I understood the gravity of his words, he started to glance around. “Go straight inside, Vi. Don’t come back out tonight.” …

Wasn’t that awesome?

In addition to giving away a signed copy of my debut novel PRETTY AMY for the hunt, I will also be giving away a signed copy, bookmark and bracelet to one lucky Facebook follower. Simply Like my page to be entered!https://www.facebook.com/LisaBursteinAuthor

Amy is fine living in the shadows of beautiful Lila and uber-cool Cassie, because at least she’s somewhat beautiful and uber-cool by association. But when their dates stand them up for prom, and the girls take matters into their own hands—earning them a night in jail outfitted in satin, stilettos, and Spanx—Amy discovers even a prom spent in handcuffs might be better than the humiliating “rehabilitation techniques” now filling up her summer. Worse, with Lila and Cassie parentally banned, Amy feels like she has nothing—like she is nothing.

Navigating unlikely alliances with her new coworker, two very different boys, and possibly even her parents, Amy struggles to decide if it’s worth being a best friend when it makes you a public enemy. Bringing readers along on an often hilarious and heartwarming journey, Amy finds that maybe getting a life only happens once you think your life is over.

Next stop: http://www.jusaccardo.com/category/blog/

A pre-peek of PRETTY AMY chapter 1

Hey Guys!

In honor of the YA scavenger hunt this week, I will be posting a link of ALL of chapter one of PRETTY AMY on my FB page. Here’s sneak peek of the first section of chapter one edited to PG-13 for the hunt.

Unfortunately, I am only myself. I am only Amy Fleishman.

I am one of the legions of middle-class white girls who

search malls for jeans that make them look thinner, who

search drugstores for makeup to wear as a second skin, who

are as sexy and exotic as blueberry muffins.

I am a walking, talking True Life episode. Your highschool

guidance counselor’s wet dream, and one of the only

girls I know to get arrested on prom night.

When my mother dropped me off at Lila’s, rather than

running like hell the way I usually did, I sat next to her in our

minivan and waited for a speech. The speech mothers give to

their only daughters on nights when those daughters are all

dressed up and the mothers look all wistful and teary.

I assumed she was building up to it, was working through

exactly what she was going to say so it would be perfect. I

knew from TV that she must have practiced in the mirror, but

maybe, faced with having to say all those things to me, she’d

frozen up. I could understand that.

When I saw Lila peek out to see who was sitting in her

driveway, and then felt my phone vibrate with a text that I

knew must say, WTF R U DOIN?, I figured I had waited long

enough.

“So this is it…,” I said. My mother stared at Lila’s small,

birdsh*t-gray house and bit at what was left of her nails. After

I’d started hanging out with Lila and Cassie, my mother

gnawed at her nails the way a baby sucked her thumb. “…my

senior prom,” I continued.

Maybe she was overwhelmed. Her little girl was all grown

up. Her ugly duckling had finally become a swan.

“I don’t want to ruin this for you, so I’m choosing to hold

my tongue.”

My mother loved using old-time folksy sayings. Hold your

horses. The early bird catches the worm. The penis with two

holes puts out the fire faster.

All right, fine, I made up that last one.

She had been holding her tongue for a while now. When

yelling at me about my “degenerate” friends hadn’t helped,

she went for the semi-silent treatment.

Stupid me for trying to get her to talk.

“There’s something very wrong with this, Amy,” she said.

She meant that Lila’s boyfriend, Brian, had arranged a

date for me. My mother had never met this boy. I had never

met this boy. It may have seemed wrong to her, but I was used

to Lila bringing the boys. And, it was still my senior prom. It

was still my night, and she couldn’t even have a special, sappy

moment with me.

“I want to tell you to have a good time, to enjoy every

moment, to be safe, but I know you won’t listen anyway. I

know you’ll do what you want to do.”

She was talking to herself again.

My mother’s favorite hobbies were talking to herself

and bitching. Though I suppose those were hobbies for most

mothers, my mother honed them like skills. If bitching were

karate, my mother would be a black belt.

I looked down at my dress. It was strapless and light blue

to bring out my eyes, which weren’t blue, but raccoon gray,

and picked up whatever color I put next to them. The bodice

was tight and shiny, like what a superhero might wear, and the

skirt flared out and fell just below my knees. When my mother

had seen it hanging on the bathroom door earlier tonight,

she’d said it looked trampy, which made me even happier that

she hadn’t been there when I picked it out.

She also hadn’t been there when I got my shoes and clutch

purse dyed to match. Sure, she had given me money, but she

hadn’t been there. Not like I would have asked her to be there,

but she hadn’t offered, either.

“Thanks for the memories,” I said, opening the door.

Her only job tonight was to tell me I was beautiful, that I

was her beautiful baby girl all grown up, but she couldn’t even

do that.

“I can’t help the way I feel,” she said, like some self-helpbook

junkie. Well, not like one—she was one. For Chanukah

last year she had gotten me an itchy sweater and Chicken

Soup for the Daughter’s Soul. The inscription had read, FYI.

Seriously.

 

In addition to giving away a signed copy of PRETTY AMY for the hunt, I will also be giving away a signed copy, bookmark and bracelet to one lucky Facebook follower. I’ll also be posting a link to the WHOLE first chapter on Thursday! Simply Like my page to be entered!https://www.facebook.com/LisaBursteinAuthor

 

PRETTY AMY soundtrack

So one of the things I think about sometimes is the song that I would want people to hear before they read PRETTY AMY. Kind of like the song that plays at the beginning of a movie when the opening credits and title rolls.

Yes, I’m weird.

See I can’t listen to music while I write. I know a lot of authors have playlists, but my playlist is the purr of my cat on my lap and the tip-tap of keyboard keys. That said, I still have “songs” that I attribute to my books, and for PRETTY AMY there is no doubt.

I know this song. I love this song. And here it is…

(skip the ad as soon as you can it definitely doesn’t “help” with the feeling)

Add it: Goodreads

You can preorder PRETTY AMY at:
Barnes & Noble  |  Book Depository  |  Amazon

 

LUCKY SEVEN-Peek at a new manuscript…

Thanks Tiffany Truitt for tagging me. This is too fun!

The Rules:

1. Go to page 77 of your current MS.
2. Go to line 7.
3. Copy down the next 7 lines/sentences, and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 other victims …er, authors.

When my aunt finally woke up she chewed on a handful of Advil like they were peanuts and sipped a cup of coffee.

I couldn’t blame her for sleeping the day away. Here, especially now, I woke up into my life and wondered if the most exciting thing that might have happened to me that day vanished with my eyes opening.

I didn’t used to feel that way. Before Brett, I was a happy, well-adjusted teenage girl. I was excited to put on my new jeans and turn on my pink phone and blow dry my hair and go to school. But after, I felt like I was in this weird contract with everyone else around me, where as long as I acted normal and looked normal and showered every so often they would do their best not to rip my heart out and stomp on it.

It didn’t usually matter if I showered.

My Lucky Seven is from one of my current works in progress: My Teenage Mid-Life Crisis

I’m tagging some of my cyber-pals from Absolute Write!

Tina Moss @Tina_Moss

Kell Andrews @kellandrewsPA

Tracey Martin @TA_Martin

Sara Leigh Walsh @SaraLeighWalsh

Emily Murdoch @LeftyWritey

Steve Cordero @SteveCordero

Lisa Brackman @otherlisa

SPRING YA SCAVENGER HUNT INFO

You guys I am so excited to be a part of the Spring YA Scavenger Hunt.

This year it will be bigger and badder than ever before with 60 count ‘em 60 YA authors! With fabulous prizes around every corner you DO NOT want to miss this!

In addition to giving away a signed copy of PRETTY AMY for the hunt, I will also be giving away a signed copy, bookmark and bracelet to one lucky Facebook follower. Simply Like my page to be entered! https://www.facebook.com/LisaBursteinAuthor

Below is your sneak preview of the authors and the books they will be featuring on the hunt.

JUS ACCARDO

AMBER ARGYLE

LISA T. BERGREN

LISA BURSTEIN

SOFIE COUCH

KIMBERLY DERTING

LAURA A.H. ELLIOTT

CHRISTINE FONSECA

ABBI GLINES

CYNTHIA HAND

KAREN AMANDA HOOPER

S.R. JOHANNES

GINA LINKO

GRETCHEN MCNEIL

MIKE MULLIN

ERICA O’ROURKE

JOY PREBLE

JESSICA SHIRVINGTON

TIFFANY TRUITT

DEBBIE VIGUIE

ANN AGUIRRE

JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT

LEAH BOBET

TERA LYNN CHILDS

WILLOW CROSS

DJ DESMYTER

LEIGH FALLON

TARA FULLER

JANET GURTLER

CINDY HOGAN

COLLEEN HOUCK

ELANA JOHNSON

JAMIE MANNING

CLAIRE MERLE

S.L. NAEOLE

GREGG OLSEN

LISA & LAURA ROECKER

JERI SMITH-READY

CAT KALEN

LANI WOODLAND

JOSEPHINE ANGELINI

BRODI ASHTON

CK BRYANT

ANGELA CORBETT

GINA DAMICO

BREE DESPAIN

BETH FANTASKEY

MARLEY GIBSON

RAE HACHTON

NANCY HOLDER

TARA HUDSON

SUZANNE LAZEAR

MYRA MCENTIRE

ALEXANDRA MONIR

LISA NOWAK

AMY PLUM

INARA SCOTT

TISH THAWER

MAGAN VERNON

RASHELLE WORKMAN

 

 

 

 
 
 

 

Did you see mine there- SQUEE!

Author Beth Revis has created a website just for our Scavenger Hunts! Click on the YA Scavenger Hunt image below to be redirected there. Because we have so many authors this time we are breaking into three groups. We have  RED TEAM, BLUE TEAM and YELLOW TEAM!

Each group is made up of 20 authors and I am on BLUE TEAM

This means that my bonus material will be found on the blue team. IT WILL BE THE WHOLE FIRST CHAPTER OF PRETTY AMY! If you get lost on the hunt simply return to the hunt website and pick up where you left off. While you check out the website, don’t forget to vote on the polls, follow the site, and check out all the prizes. You can even tweet from there too!

My MFA- I couldn’t be a writer without it

I know for some writers MFA is a dirty word. Some people look at them as programs that just churn out writers that all write the same way and that are run by professors who would be publishing full-time if they could- they teach because they need the money. In my case this couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The story of how I got to my MFA program is probably as important as what I got from it. I was two years out of college with a degree in Writing for Television and Film (what?) that’s an actual degree and I was working at Dell publishing as a Marketing Assistant. I loved working with books, but marketing them was NOT my strong suit. I knew and had always known I wanted to write them. I knew I needed guidance to do this. I found it in my MFA program.

Basically for me an MFA gave me two years to focus on nothing but craft. To focus on nothing but writing and reading and talking about books(and of course a little drinking in bars with other writers spattered in between)- it was heaven. Like this perfect space and time where everything I was doing was exactly what I wanted to be doing. Unlike college where I had to take science and math and other crap to be a writer, here I got to take whatever I wanted and it was all about books and writing! And I needed that two years, I needed MORE than that two years- as my first novel wasn’t acquired until I was out of the program another 8(!). But, I know I couldn’t have done it without that foundation.

My MFA taught me the rules of writing and allowed me to break them. Taught me how to be supportive and helpful to other writers(key in making it in this biz) taught me how to critique work, how to read like a writer and write like a reader. It helped me decide that YES, I did want to be a writer. Making that decision and taking yourself seriously are one of the hardest things a writer can do.

My MFA gave me that.

I want to note that I certainly don’t think an MFA is necessary to be a writer, but for me it helped .

Blog visitors- Please share the first time you really felt like a writer.

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13375237-pretty-amy

Amazon pre-order: http://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Amy-Lisa-Burstein/dp/1620611198/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330534300&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble pre-order: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pretty-amy-lisa-burstein/1108930786?ean=9781620611197&itm=1&usri=pretty+amy

PRETTY AMY TEASER TUESDAY- the winner!

Well guys, here’s the teaser for this week. The girls won by almost double in the poll. Enjoy!

This is from prom night while they are getting ready at Lila’s house.

“You need more eye shadow.” Lila pushed me down into her seat. Once she got going it was hard to stop her, and before I knew it, she had redone my whole face.

Rather than the soft, natural effect I’d had when I arrived, after Lila was done I looked like I was ready to go up onstage. Not the way people onstage look when they’re actually onstage, but the way they look when you see them close up before or afterward.

“Much better,” she said, stepping back to appraise her work. I knew how I wanted to respond, but instead, I responded how I usually did when it came to something I didn’t agree with. I said nothing.

I wondered if she had done this on purpose, like some bride/bridesmaid thing. Lila did act like a bride at a wedding that never ended. She always had to be the most beautiful, the most interesting, and in this case, the least likely to be mistaken for a blind prostitute.

Cassie threw open the bedroom door and entered the room looking like the photo on a slutty Halloween Devil costume, all fire-engine red and skin and cleavage.

“Wow,” we both said. Well, really I said it, but I could see Lila’s mouth open to make a word and stop in a perfect O. I’d never seen Cassie in anything other than an oversize flannel shirt and cargo pants. She usually dressed like a lumberjack— it might have been part of the reason Lila put up with her.

That night, it was obvious that Cassie was far too attractive to be as crabby as she was. Maybe that was why she always tried so hard to hide it.

She lit a cigarette. “I know, I know,” she said, exhaling, “I look like the lead singer of a Vegas lounge act. My brother already told me.”

“Not at all,” Lila said, looking to me like a combination of shocked and jealous. I nodded in agreement. I was shocked and jealous. At Brian’s house later, two boys would have two girls to choose from. The way Cassie looked that night, she would be chosen first. I would be the one who was left, as usual, but that is the arithmetic that equals love in high school.

“Turn around,” Lila said, walking toward her and reaching for her dress.

“Fuck off,” Cassie said, pushing her away. “You can see my ass on the way out.”

Cassie pointed at me with the tip of her cigarette. “What the hell did you do to her face?”

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13375237-pretty-amy

Amazon pre-order: http://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Amy-Lisa-Burstein/dp/1620611198/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330534300&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble pre-order: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pretty-amy-lisa-burstein/1108930786?ean=9781620611197&itm=1&usri=pretty+amy

COVER REVEAL MY SUPER SWEET 16TH CENTURY

On the precipice of her sixteenth birthday, the last thing lone wolf Cat Crawford wants is an extravagant gala thrown by her bubbly stepmother and well-meaning father. So even though Cat knows the family’s trip to Florence, Italy, is a peace offering, she embraces the magical city and all it offers. But when her curiosity leads her to an unusual gypsy tent, she exits . . . right into Renaissance Firenze.
Thrust into the sixteenth century armed with only a backpack full of contraband future items, Cat joins up with her ancestors, the sweet Alessandra and protective Cipriano, and soon falls for the gorgeous aspiring artist Lorenzo. But when the much-older Niccolo starts sniffing around, Cat realizes that an unwanted birthday party is nothing compared to an unwanted suitor full of creeptastic amore.
Can she find her way back to modern times before her Italian adventure turns into an Italian forever?

Exclusive Excerpt:

I hear their muffled whispers and understand every Italian word. Every witty comment made at my expense.

It’s like my brain is automatically translating.

I bunch the soft fabric of the dress in my hand and then reach up to feel the ribbon in my hair. I lightly skim my fingers over my chin and feel my lack of zit. I take in the costumes of the crowd, the stench of the animals, and the Italian I can now speak and understand. And suddenly it hits me.

Reyna must have pulled some kind of gypsy mojo.

Maybe this is one of those nifty “change your life” magic scenarios like in the movies. I mean, mostly I’m still expecting to blink and be right back in the midst of overpriced, gaudy tourism, but for now, the gypsy-time-warp explanation is infinitely better than thinking I’ve lost my mind. As I decide to go with that option, I feel my frantic tension melt away.

The growing crowd seems to notice my change in demeanor and begins shooting one another amused looks, but I don’t care anymore. A smile stretches across my face. Evidently, I was wrong earlier; Reyna is a psychic mind reader, because if this is her special brand of bibbity-bobbity-boo, then she made my exact daydream from earlier in the courtyard come to life.

The long red gown, the braided hair, the Italian merchant’s daughter, the time period. I am in Renaissance Florence.

I stare dumbly at the ground, the words and reality sinking in.

I’m in Renaissance Florence!

My Super Sweet 16th Century, by Rachel Harris is available for pre-order on: Amazon | Barnes & Noble Be sure to add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads!

Teaser Tuesday Reader Choice- please vote!

Hey guys!

As a thank you for being so awesome this week, I have decided to let YOU decide which type of teaser you want to see on Tuesday. Vote for Joe, Aaron, or one with Cassie and Lila and I will post it mid-day Tuesday.

Thanks!

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13375237-pretty-amy

THANK YOU FOR AN AMAZING COVER REVEAL

So yesterday was awesome! I mean like jumping up and down awesome! THANK YOU to all the bloggers who participated. THANK YOU to everyone who pre-ordered PRETTY AMY and STILL is . THANK YOU to everyone who added PRETTY AMY on Goodreads and STILL is .

It was a dream-come-true-day for a girl who has been working for longer than I want to admit for this dream-come-true-day.

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13375237-pretty-amy

Amazon pre-order: http://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Amy-Lisa-Burstein/dp/1620611198/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330534300&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble pre-order: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pretty-amy-lisa-burstein/1108930786?ean=9781620611197&itm=1&usri=pretty+amy

If you missed the Aaron excerpt find it below. You’ll find the Joe excerpt on the prev post.

I was just about to put out my cigarette and go back inside when I heard a skateboard coming down the street. It sounded like waves, like a conch shell against your ear. That full, empty sound.

Maybe it was Aaron. I conjured up my stupid daydream, the one I used to fill my head when I couldn’t deal with any of the other stuff in there—that he would find me, that he would apologize, that he would tell me that prom night hadn’t been his fault.

The difference this time was that when I looked toward the sound, he really was there.

It was him.

Aaron.

He was skateboarding down the sidewalk like it was made of water, wearing the same loose, worn jeans from his Facebook picture. He carried a backpack, like he might have been coming from the library, but I doubted he ever went to the library.

I lit another cigarette with the end of my last one; any excuse to stay put. Then I remembered I was wearing a suit.

“You got another one of those?” he asked. His eyes were blue. I hadn’t noticed that in his picture.

My hands shook as I gave him a cigarette. He brought a silver-and-black Zippo to his mouth, flipped it open with one hand, lit his cigarette, and slapped it shut. The whole thing took seconds, but it felt like he was doing it in slow motion. “Thanks,” he said.

Maybe he had just stopped to get a cigarette. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.

It probably had nothing to do with me.

“I know you,” he said. “Where do I know you from?”

I couldn’t tell him. Telling him that he’d stood me up for my own prom would have been way too embarrassing. It would tell him that I still cared enough to remember.

“I’m friends with Lila and Cassie,” I said, wishing that my hair wasn’t pulled back in a headband like I was a nun.

“What are you all dressed up for?” he asked.

Of course he didn’t know me. If he had, he would have known that I’d just come from court and that I was trying to do everything I could to forget it.

“I work here,” I said, thinking fast. “I’m supposed to be a librarian.”

“You don’t have to lie,” he said, laughing. “I’m Aaron.”

“Amy,” I said, waving hello with the cigarette in my hand.

He smiled. “Though you do make a cute librarian.”

I tried to keep myself from coughing. “This suit sucks,” I said. It seemed cooler than saying thank you. It seemed cooler than getting all squishy over what he said, even though that was how I felt.

I looked at his skateboard. “You wanna try it out?” he asked.

The deck had a mural of blue sky and white-capped mountains hand-painted on it. The wheels were covered with stop-motion birds, so that when they spun it must have looked like the birds were flying.

There was more to this boy. More that I wanted to know.

“I guess I could,” I said, but then I remembered my mother. She would come looking for me soon.

I shook my head. “I should go.”

“You got a cell phone?” he asked.

“Not that I’m allowed to use anymore.”

“Parents,” he said. He pulled a sketchbook from his backpack. Maybe he had painted that beautiful mural. He ripped out a piece of paper, wrote something down, and handed it to me.

It was his phone number.

I tried not to act surprised, tried to act like boys gave me their numbers all the time, especially when I hadn’t asked for them.

“See you around, Amy,” he said. He dropped the skateboard next to him. It landed perfectly on its wheels like a cat would on its legs.

As he skated away, I looked at his number; the paper was as soft as fabric. I folded it smaller and smaller and hid it in my bra. Maybe he hadn’t said what I wanted him to say, but he had found me.

He had found me.