Welcome to the Summer Scavenger Hunt!
It's that time again...I'm thrilled to be participating in this summer's YA Scavenger Hunt!
If you're looking for MY bonus content -- which lets you see what Luc was up to during the wait between TANGLED and BOUND -- you'll need to visit the other stops on the hunt. Good luck!
On this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from each participating YA author, you also get a secret number. Add up the numbers, and enter it for a chance to win a major prize--one lucky winner will receive at least one signed book from each author on the hunt in my team! But play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online until noon PST on Sunday August 5th!
You can start right here or you can also go to the YA Scavenger Hunt homepage to find out all about the hunt. There are TWO contests going on simultaneously, and you can enter one or both! I am a part of the BLUE TEAM--but there is also a red team and if you do the red hunt you'll have a chance to win a whole different set of signed books!
If you'd like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, see the full list of prizes up for grabs, or if you get lost along the way, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt homepage.
SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE
Directions: Below, you'll notice that I've listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the blue team, and then add them up (don't worry, you can use a calculator!). Hint: the secret number is highlighted in RED.
Entry Form: Once you've added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.
Rules: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian's permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by August 5, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.
Now that all the technical stuff is out of the way, I'd like you to meet the amazing Denise Jaden!
Denise Jaden spent her high school lunch hours trying to tame her frizzy/curly hair in the bathroom, or playing freeze tag in the drama room. She attended the theater program at college, and then enjoyed a variety of occupations, including stage production, mushroom farming, and Polynesian dancing. The first draft of her debut novel, Losing Faith, was written in 21 days during National Novel Writing Month. Never Enough, her second novel for teens, was released in summer, 2012. She lives just outside Vancouver, Canada with her husband and son.
Find out more online at www.denisejaden.com
or on Twitter: @denisejaden
And here's a little bit about Denise's book, NEVER ENOUGH:
Loann’s always wanted to be popular and pretty like her sister, Claire. So when Claire’s ex-boyfriend starts flirting with her, Loann is willing to do whatever it takes to feel special…even if that means betraying her sister.
But as Loann slips inside Claire’s world, she discovers that everything is not as it seems. Claire’s quest for perfection is all-consuming, and comes at a dangerous price. As Claire increasingly withdraws from friends and family, Loann struggles to understand her and make amends. Can she heal their relationship—and her sister—before it’s too late?
Doesn't it sound fabulous? Click here to order a copy. Better yet, order 5!
Denise's bonus content is an alternate, deleted first chapter for NEVER ENOUGH.
Chapter One
There are plenty of ways of telling this story and no shortage of people who could tell it. If Beth told it, the motherly bias would be overwhelming. She’d flit all over the place and I doubt you would have any kind of clear picture by the end. If Claire told it, it would be full of flowery words like incandescent and mystique and trousseau. It would center on everyone except herself and thus, again, you would not get an adequate view. Marcus could tell it. Of course he would say the whole thing solely by the look in his eyes, so I guess it depends on how perceptive you are if you would want his version. And then there's always Darren. Dad, if you could call him that. He could tell it, but what would he say? Repeat a list of events, the only ones he can stir up in his over-worked brain when he refreshes himself with my meticulously kept photo albums and home videos? If you wanted a movie, you'd be up at The Grand. You wanted a story, and so I will tell it.
My sister Claire was the pretty one. I knew that right from the start. I’m the baby, so I’ve never lacked in the attention department, but Claire held people's gazes. Even her name, Claire Isabella Rochester, was something that could have come straight out of a fashion magazine. She was everything you would think a Claire would be. Tall, slender, wheat-colored hair tapering to the small of her back. Dancer, cheerleader, beauty queen.
Me, I'm Loann. Loann Rochester, no middle.
If you break it down, Lo-Ann, the first part tells you all you need to know about who I am. Everything low in life: that's me. I'm the low man on the totem pole. I'm low in the state of learning and of course on the platform of looks. I'm a full six inches shorter than Claire. That's about as low as you can get, I'd say.
Then there's the second half: Ann. How much more plain-jane can you get than that? If you picture everything flashy in the world: metallic eye shadow, sparkly blouses, red sports cars, and then wipe it all off the face of the earth, basically you have me. I've always wondered if people grow into their names or if it's just one big coincidence that someone like me ends up with a name like Loann.
But my name isn’t my only problem. I have dark curly hair, while all the other girls at school—I call them the Tackies because they dress like Cosmo-Girl quintuplets—have straight blonde hair. I’ve always been the shortest in my class, and even in elementary school, held an extra fifteen pounds. My eyes are big and buggy and make other people glance away with discomfort. Boys never asked me to go out behind the school like they did with Shayleen Gregory. It was a fact of life. I smiled at the boys and quickly looked away, so not to put the pressure on. I knew my place.
Claire, on the other hand, had hit the big time—high school—by the time I was in seventh grade. In Elk Grove, Wisconsin there were no middle schools, so you had to graduate from one of two puny elementary schools into one over-sized high school. She had no trouble making friends and was the one who must have given our parents the idea to implement the 'no dating' rule in the Rochester house. I was in no hurry to break that one.
Two years wasn’t the only gap that lay between Claire and I. This story really starts on my twelfth birthday, when I became aware of just how different we were.
My household didn’t exactly spring to life in the mornings. Coffee was a big staple for Beth and Darren, whereas I usually woke up sometime during third period when my teacher had run out of patience with my dazy attitude.
Claire was different. When I drudged into the kitchen that mid-May morning, she was flipping through her school planner at the breakfast table, fully primped, makeup drawn to perfection. She looked like she’d been up for hours, or maybe she never slept at all. The single apple in front of her hadn’t been touched.
“Hey mom, it's Loey's birthday today," she said as her finger stopped on May twentieth.
I held back my smile, although unsure why she hadn't directed her birthday greetings my way. It was likely part of the "grown up" act she'd taken on since entering high school—only converse with the adults in the room.
"Yes, I know that, Claire.” Beth cleared her throat and kept her face turned away at the coffeepot, tapping her long acrylic nails on the Arborite as though the pot needed her help to finish perking. “I was just about to say happy birthday, sweetie," She turned, all smiles, and came over to ruffle my hair. I fussed and fixed my loose curly strands, even though I knew they always looked the same, no matter if I walked straight through a tornado.
Beth let out one of her boisterous laughs, which made me wonder what she was covering up. Had she totally forgotten my birthday, or was she simply feeling bad that she hadn’t been the first in line to mention it? I tried to squeeze out a “Thanks,” but she was already absorbed with her reflection in the kitchen window.
That evening, Claire stayed in her room on the phone until my standard birthday dinner, Pizza Hut Meat-Lovers Pizza, was on the table.
We never waited for Darren, even on birthdays. The three of us sat around the table, and although Claire had seemed fine to me, as the pizza got unveiled, so did her aggravated stomach. Her face actually went gray. She said she'd try to eat a piece, but I think the amount of broken-up chunks on her plate at the end of the meal were a complete pizza puzzle if put back together.
She was polite enough to stay around the table and watch me open her gift. I carefully unwrapped the gold foil with blue and purple ribbon. I wasn't one for saving wrapping paper, but without a doubt, Claire had spent an hour and a half just curling the flouncing ribbons to decorate it. When I peeled off the last bit of paper, I found a light pink, far-too-small tank top with a big white flower on the front.
Oh, Get real! was what I wanted to say. Clearly it was something she’d either plucked from her own over-stuffed closet, or something she herself wanted, and thought that surely I would pass it over and tell her to enjoy.
"Gee, thanks," bumbled out of my mouth. I held it far away from me, as though the distance would hide the discrepancy between the size of the tank and the size of my body.
As Beth packed the pizza up from the table, Claire’s grayness seemed to disappear. "I think pink would be just fabulous on you, Loey. And now that you're developing, we've got to stop hiding your budding breasts and beautiful figure behind those baggy T-shirts." She and Beth gave each other knowing nods as I tried to find the nearest crevice to cower into.
I'm twelve! I wanted to scream. Leave my "budding breasts" and "beautiful figure" alone! "Thanks," I repeated, quietly.
I knew the torrent of "Hurry, go try it on" comments were coming, but luckily the front door swung open and interrupted my glorious coming-of-age moment.
"Hi, Dad," I nearly yelled.
Darren came in carrying a square white box. Beth jumped out of her chair, nearly tearing her Ralph Lauren pencil skirt, and rushed over to grab the Barbara's Bakery container. She sidestepped her way to the kitchen with her back to me so that I was sure not to notice the birthday cake or the transaction. Darren came to the table and kissed me on the forehead.
"Happy birthday, honey.” He picked up the half-piece of pizza still on Beth’s plate and started chewing. “Well, I had an exciting day.” He shoved another bite in his mouth. "Mr. Higgens likes my work, girls. Wants me to try branching out." He slurped as he tried to keep the pizza in his mouth and get his words out simultaneously. "That promotion's just around the corner, I can feel it."
"Wow, Daddy, that's wonderful!" Claire said in her flamboyant way. "I can't imagine why they wouldn't promote you."
Darren went on about the latest slogan he had written and Claire nodded with a dramatic look of awe. He’d been jabbering on about this supposed promotion for at least two years. Maybe I was just too young to understand, but for what? was my question. We had enough money. Our house was as nice as anybody's, although Beth wouldn't say so. We had two cars, a motor home and a hot tub. But I guess it wasn't enough. Darren started working late on Fridays to 'get ahead of the game' as he called it. Then it was Thursdays and Fridays. Then he'd go in the odd Saturday.
Beth motioned through the kitchen door to Claire and Darren. They paid no attention so I cleared my throat while trying not to notice the blaze of candles in the doorway. Finally Beth started in on the birthday song with her tone-deaf voice and was halfway through the chorus before the other two joined in. I did my part and smiled.
I blew out my candles as instructed, but apparently all of the excitement had brought Claire's flu symptoms back on. She excused herself to turn in early.
After the cake was divvied up and eaten, Beth brought out a neatly-wrapped toaster-sized box and placed it gently in front of me. I could tell by her walk, by the way she held it and placed it down delicately in front of me, that it was precious. I couldn't, for the life of me, think of what valued item I would be worthy of, or even want for that matter.
As I tore the wrapping off, Beth leaned in eagerly. With the last bit of wrapping off, I was surprised to find a boxed-up camera. A Canon, which I thought I’d heard of, but Beth went on about the quality of the thing so much that I couldn't remember how much I’d known before her blue streak.
I opened the packaging, hearing talk of zoom, battery, and attachable lenses. I felt the weight of the machinery in my hands.
“That looks like a heavy duty model.” Darren said quietly in Beth’s direction.
“Oh, never mind that now.” She turned her attention back to me. “There’s a big booklet of instructions here, Loann. Don’t let it intimidate you…”
“Beth, really,” Darren whispered. “How much did this thing cost?”
“Shush. I got a good deal from Lois Emerson’s brother,” she wispered.
“Good deal?” He leaned closer.
I paid no attention. The instruction booklet was certainly thorough, but it seemed easy enough to follow.
Beth and Darren were into a full-blown under-the-breath argument about money. They barely noticed as I said thank you, grabbed my camera, instructions, multi-pack of film, and headed up the stairs.
* * * * *
Excellent, yes? Did you find the secret number? Before you go to the next stop on the hunt, make sure you participate in my bonus contest -- a chance to win the entire Torn Trilogy (TORN, TANGLED, and BOUND). Use the rafflecopter entry form below, and tell me what you're going to do with the rest of your summer! You can get bonus entries by doing extra stuff, like following me on Twitter and Facebook. As always, my giveaways are international.
If you're ready to move on to the next stop on the scavenger hunt, it's time to visit Cynthia Hand!
