Friday, March 6, 2015


93,000 words
YA Dark Comedy


Mashup: Tina Fey's MEAN GIRLS/Meg Cabot's MEDIATOR/Lauren Oliver's ROOMS. On the night she’s crowned queen of the junior homecoming dance, sixteen-year-old Bethany Sultry crashes into a car full of jellybeans. Now she’s not only dead, she’s a laughingstock living a nightmare. To make matters worse, her high school nemesis is claiming all the empty spots Bethany leaves behind when she dies. She takes over as co-captain of the dance team, becomes her boyfriend’s new girlfriend, and even becomes the new junior homecoming queen. Enough is enough. Bethany can’t rest in peace with that bitch wearing her bling! With the help of the boy who killed her, Bethany mounts a campaign to reclaim her former glory, and her crown. But how far will she go to defeat her rival when the price of victory is damning her own soul to hell?


When I die, I don’t so much go into the light as have the light suck me up like a dust bunny in a cosmic vacuum cleaner. I zoom skyward, headfirst through a translucent tunnel. A hum loud as a jet engine presses against my inner ear. Ozone pinches my nasal cavities. Veils of colored air blow through my scalp and exit cold through the soles of my bare feet. At last, I burst into a stark white room and land, muscles tensed, in crouched position. The floor is solid and warm. I am nervous as hell.

“Hi, Bethany.” My only dead friend waves at me. Her name is Moon. She’s sucking on a lollipop, the big kind with the swirls. Her hair’s done up in three ponytails. I’m pretty sure she has a glitter tattoo on her cheek but it’s hard to see against the pale blue tint of her skin.

I straighten up and ask, “Is this heaven?”

Moon shakes her head no. She pulls the lollipop from her mouth and points it at the only other living being in the room. “But Cal’s an angel.”

After the havoc I caused, being in the presence of an angel is awesome, especially when that angel smells like warm apple pie. His cheekbones are higher than mine. I want to lick one and see if it tastes like cinnamon crumb topping.

Cal narrows his eyes at me. “I’m your celestial probation officer.”

I resolve not to lick any part of him.

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