The Final Countdown Begins...with an Excerpt!

First, thank you SO much to everyone who stopped by and said hi at BEA last month. I had such a great time and hope you all did, too!

In addition to making my day, those who visited at BEA also picked up a copy of Undercurrent. And with its official release only weeks away (July 12!), I wanted to share a sneak peek with everyone else. The first two pages are below, and I'll post more soon.

I hope you enjoy!

@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }It was September first. The day my older sister Justine should have been starting classes. Buying textbooks. Thinking about her future. The day she should have been doing all the things freshmen do but wasn't, because her future had been decided the second she jumped off a cliff in the middle of the night three months earlier.

On this day, I walked a college campus instead.

"That's Parker Hall," my tour guide said. "And there's Hathorn Hall and the chapel."

I smiled politely and followed him through the main quad. The pretty, parklike square was surrounded by redbrick buildings and filled with kids talking, laughing, and comparing schedules.

"That's Coram Library," he continued, pointing. "And right behind it is Ladd Library, the one-hundred-twelve-thousand-square-foot Mecca of learning."

"Impressive," I said, thinking the same thing about him. His brown eyes were warm, his dark hair slightly messy, like he'd fallen asleep on an open textbook before meeting me. His toned arms shone bronze against the sharp white of his crew team T-shirt. If Bates strived to appeal to teenage girls' romantic aspirations in addition to their academic ones, they'd picked a good representative.

"And comfortable. Trust me, I should know." He stopped, took my sweatshirt sleeve in one hand, and tugged. As I stepped toward him, a Frisbee sliced through the empty air space my head had just occupied.

"I do," I said.

We stood so close I could hear his quick intake of breath. His fingers tightened on my sweatshirt, and his arm tensed. After a few seconds, he released me and grabbed the backpack straps near his shoulders.

"What's that?" I asked.

He followed my nod to a tall building next to the libraries. "That is the deciding factor," he said, starting down the sidewalk. When he reached the building's front steps, he turned toward me and grinned. "Behold Carnegie Science Hall."

I covered my chest with one hand. "The Carnegie Science Hall? Where some of the world's most brilliant, forward-thinking scientists conduct groundbreaking research that continues to shape the landscape of modern science as we know it today?"

He paused. "Yes?"

"Hang on. I have to get a picture."

"If you're familiar with the building," he said as I rummaged through my purse for my digital camera, "then you know the work it houses sets this college apart from the rest. Even if you're not a science major, I think that alone warrants the hefty two-hundred-thousand-dollar price tag."

Vox clamantis in deserto.

I stared at the digital camera screen and my mind filled with images of green key chains. Coffee mugs. A sweatshirt and an umbrella. All bearing the familiar Dartmouth shield.

"Vanessa?"

"Sorry." I shook my head once and held up the camera. "Say lobster."