Ever since she survived the accident that killed her mother, seventeen-year-old Friday has felt stuck. She’s lost her only parent, she’s living in a town where dreams go to die and, strangely, even her hair and nails have stopped growing. Her only hope for getting out is earning enough money for college tuition, so when a mysterious ad appears in the local paper for a job assisting a rock band, Friday jumps at the opportunity.
Spending time with the gorgeous guitarist, Craig, certainly beats baling hay, but there’s something odd about the four young musicians, who spend most of their time bickering while their instruments gather dust. When Friday overhears a hushed conversation behind closed doors, she finally learns the truth: the band members are Athanatos, immortals trapped somewhere between life and death. Not only is Friday one of them, she’s the only immortal capable of killing another, and it’s up to the others to keep Friday from becoming a deadly weapon in the world’s oldest blood feud. Between magic rings, ancient curses, and the fact that Friday’s going to have to live with the same haircut for the rest of her life, it’s definitely going to take some time getting used to this whole “undead” thing.
Forever should just about do it.
Forever Friday is an 85,000-word YA urban fantasy. I have written and edited professionally for two magazines as well as several newspapers and websites. I am a member of SCBWI and I have a Master’s degree from the University of London. Recently, I contributed guest blog posts for the Veterans Administration and Do What You Love (dowhatyouloveforlife.com).
Thank you for your time and consideration.
First 500 words:
Un milagro, they called me. A miracle. I heard the nurses whisper it to each other as they passed my hospital room. I saw it on the news for three days before my story was overshadowed by celebrity gossip and political scandals. And it was the first thing the Chilean doctor said to me when my scan results came back normal.
But I didn’t believe in miracles.
“Good morning, señorita,” the nurse said as she pulled back the curtains. “You are going home today, no?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what “home” meant anymore.
“Muy bien. The doctor will be in to release you soon.”
It had already been a week since the accident, but I still felt like if I tried hard enough I could wake myself up from this nightmare. Surely the real me was sitting in a café in Paris, the place I’d dreamed of going since I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor over a year ago. But instead of sending Mom and me to France, the wish foundation had called six weeks ago to tell me I’d been granted an all-expenses-paid vacation to Chile. Chile.
My mom said it must have been some kind of computer mix-up, or maybe a trip to Chile had just been more affordable than Paris, and that I shouldn’t complain about a free vacation. On the one hand, I knew she had a point. There were certainly worse places to spend two weeks than Chile. But it was literally my dying wish. You’d think they could at least get the country right.
Just in case Chile wasn’t quite far enough away from Paris, Mom had insisted we take another flight to Easter Island to view the upcoming solar eclipse. “We’ve come this far,” she said with a hopeful smile, and because I knew this trip wasn’t just about me, I said yes.
Easter Island was crawling with crazy umbraphiles -- eclipse-chasing psychos who had come all the way to the middle of nowhere just to view a five-minute total solar eclipse -- but even I had to concede it wasn’t nearly as crowded as Paris would have been. And the maoi statues, while not exactly the Eiffel Tower, were kind of awesome.
But the morning of the accident, my mom was acting as weird as the eclipse fanatics. “Hurry up, Friday,” she called from the hotel bedroom. “We’re going to miss it.”
“It’s an eclipse, Mom. We’d have to be blind to miss it.”
My mom poked her head into the bathroom and frowned. “I want to get a good spot before it’s too late. Totality is only going to last for five minutes, tops.”
I learned way more about eclipses than I ever wanted to that week. I figured it would be kind of cool to see one before I died, but probably not cooler than Notre Dame. Or kissing a hot French guy.