Shatterproof (17 page)

(Hyperion 2008)

Fifteen year old Luisa Perez is not going to win any awards for school spirit. In fact, she and her friends make it a point to avoid all activities considered "extracurricular." So when her English teacher volunteers her to be an anonymous columnist for the school paper, Luisa's first impulse is to run. But, unlike her high-school dropout sister, Luisa does want to go to college—it may be her only ticket out of a life spent working at the cowboy-themed diner where she waitresses part time—and it would be nice to have something to put on her applications.

Her first assignment is to cover her high school's latest fund-raiser, which pits the girls against the boys. Luisa will cover the events from the female point of view, while another anonymous writer provides the male perspective—or, at least, that's how it begins. The two columnists soon find themselves engaged in an epic battle of the sexes—a battle that Luisa is determined to win, even if it means risking the best relationship she's ever had.

Excerpt

"Slow down!" Russ yells, running after me down the sidewalk as Betty Boop, his favorite skateboard, sees her chance and goes for it.

"I can't!" I scream, careening toward the intersection. It seemed so far off when we started, but a couple of really good kicks and a slight incline have brought me here very quickly.

"Drag your foot!" Russ yells.

"I can't!" I scream again. I'm barely balanced now. My knees are locked into the bent position Russ showed me when I boarded this rocket. If I move one iota, I'll veer into either traffic or a brick wall. I'd rather take my chances on hitting a green light at the intersection.

A cluster of school boys stops at the corner to watch. One reaches out to stop me and misses by a fraction of an inch.

Ahead of us a lady pulls her toddler out of my path. "Sorry," I call.

Look out!" Russ's voice is fainter now.

As if I can't see the intersection looming 30—25—20 feet before me. "Stay green, stay green, stay green," I chant at the light. Otherwise, I'll run full tilt into that city bus as it pulls out.

"Drag your foot!" Russ yells again.

The light turns yellow and terror brings the feeling back to my legs. I propel myself off the board and continue to run for a few yards. At the crosswalk, I grab a pole to slow down and tumble off the curb and into the gutter. Three lanes of traffic are revving for takeoff.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!" Russ is shrieking hysterically now, and he sounds a lot closer.

A taxi swerves to avoid me and I clamber back onto the sidewalk on my hands and knees.

"Oh my God!" Russ screams one more time as he arrives at my side.

"It's okay," I say, reaching out to pat his pant leg. I'm touched at how concerned he is, considering we've only known each other a couple of weeks. I'm glad I gave him another chance. "Russ, I'm fine."

He's looking not at me, but out into the intersection. "Betty!" he wails, as the bus moves past its splintered remains.

I drop my head onto the sidewalk. "I'm sorry."

"I told you to slow down," he says, jerking his pant cuff out of my hand.

"You sent me down a hill. I didn't know what I was doing."

His voice drops to a whisper. "She was a limited edition Stacy Peralta board. Signed by Stacy himself."

He darts into traffic and grabs a wheel. Stroking it with one finger, he mutters, "She's irreplaceable."

Something tells me the same cannot be said of me.

© Yvonne Collins & Sandy Rideout

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(Hyperion 2007)

Fed up with her parents and all their ridiculous rules (they keep a binder full of them), fifteen-year-old Kendra Bishop writes away to
The Black Sheep
, a reality TV show that offers the chance to swap families with another teen. But when the camera crew, led by brash TV producer Judy Greenberg, shows up at her Manhattan apartment, Kendra starts to have second thoughts.

Too late. Kendra is whisked away to Monterey, California, to live with the Mulligan family in a household that couldn't be more different from her own—complete with hippie parents, their five kids and a pet ferret. Of course, when Kendra falls for Mitch, the Mulligans' seventeen-year-old son, it only complicates things further, especially since Mitch despises the reality TV show and everything it stands for. But given the chance, Kendra might just be able to juggle first love, her new stardom, and a pushy producer who will stop at nothing for higher ratings.

In this hilarious and touching novel, Kendra learns to live under a new roof but finds true refuge in the unlikeliest of places—her own family.

Excerpt

I'm barely out of the shower when Mona knocks on the door. "Kendra? I hate to rush you, but Max needs to get into the bathroom. He's going to be late."

"Could he use another one?" I ask, toweling off. "I just got started here." Judging from the fur growing on her legs, Mona has no clue how long it takes to pull a polished look together.

"There's only one, and it's a popular place in the morning," she says. "Remember I pointed out the roster! Everyone gets fifteen minutes. I'm afraid you're running over."

"Sorry," I call to Mona. "I'll be right out." I hope I didn't sound all uptown-snob there, but it never occurred to me they'd only have one bathroom. Max is a plumber: he should spend less time Saving Our Sea Otters and more on the bathroom crisis in his own home. Had I realized, I wouldn't have wasted half my allotted time on a security sweep to see if Judy had installed tiny cameras in the showerhead or toilet tissue roll.

Throwing my pajamas back on, I hurry down the hall to the bedroom. Though Meadow was sound asleep when I left, she managed to get up and out while I was gone. At ten, I probably wasn't concerned about personal grooming either. Now, as Maya's mirror verifies, I need to be concerned. My limp, lifeless locks can only be salvaged with volumizer and a blow dryer, both of which I left behind in the bathroom.

Limp hair isn't my only challenge. I have my parents' dull gray eyes (although theirs are beady and mine are normal-size), and I'm prone to breaking out at the worst possible times, such as after learning that I'm starring in a reality show. Fortunately, I also have good bone structure and a nice smile. My parents came through, there.

I wait a full twenty minutes before skulking back down the hall to the bathroom. The door is closed, but when I call Max's name, there's no answer.

I push the door open, step into the bathroom, and freeze. Standing in front of the sink brushing his teeth is a naked man. It isn't Max, unless Max has lost forty pounds and gained a full head of hair overnight. Nor is Max likely to have such pronounced tan lines.

By the time my eyes make the long climb from the guy's hip to his face, he's turned his to stare at me in the mirror, toothbrush suspended in mid air. It must be Mitch, I realize, because he's not much older than I am.

"Excuse me," I say, still frozen to the spot.

"Do you mind?" he asks through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Keeping my eyes well above sea level, I reverse course until something blocks my exit. Make that someone: Judy, the show's producer.

"Morning, KB!" she says, flashing me a grin as she steps aside to give Bob a clear shot with his camera. "I see you've met Mitch."

"Not exactly."

She grabs a towel off the rack and tosses it to Mitch. "Put something on, cutie, this is a G-rated show."

He rinses his mouth before putting the towel on, and I sneak another look at the tan lines. I've never had the opportunity to examine the male form at such close range before, unless you count the marble sculptures at the Met.

"Bob, zoom in on Mitch, but stay off Kendra. She looks pretty rough today."