Word Count: 30,000
Pitch:
Seventh graders Casey and Tim are used to being in trouble, but they get more than they can handle when they impulsively kidnap their demanding English teacher and nobody, especially their principal, wants her back.
Excerpt:
PROLOGUE
Tuesday. There is very little point to Tuesdays. It is a well-known fact that nothing important ever happened on a Tuesday, certainly nothing good ever did. And Tuesdays in February are probably the most pointless days in all of history. Dark, cold, not even halfway to Friday—well, research would probably show that most of the bad decisions ever made were made on Tuesdays in February. Your mind just isn’t right.
Of course, some February Tuesdays stand out more than others. One in particular was the kind of February Tuesday that kind of sticks in your memory. Forever.
You see that was the Tuesday they decided to kidnap Miss Dower.
CHAPTER ONE
“I don’t suppose you’re ready for English.”
Casey Matthews pulled open the locker she shared with Tim. “Is anyone ever ready for English?” She bent down and checked her look in the smudged mirror that hung on the door. She actually liked today’s version of the loosely organized frizz of her dark hair, and the new fluorescent lime green and black striped top went well with her skinny black jeans and Converse. For an added touch, a coordinating lime green bandana dangled from the back pocket of her jeans. She reached into the little pocket of her backpack. A little more black eyeliner. Actually, a lot more.
“Are you auditioning for the school play?” Tim asked. “I hear they need a raccoon.”
She slammed the door and looked down at Tim with the same pained expression she saw on her mother when she applied her extra eyeliner before coming to school.
Move my piece home, please! Just don’t kidnap it. Focus on Miss Dower for that.
I’m moving my pawn 6 spaces!
Please move my pawn 3 spaces, thanks!
Sara Megibow
I move my pawn home.
Love the humor; I’d love to see the first two chapters.
I love the sound of this! I’ll move my pawn 7 spaces.
I move my pawn home.
When do we “sorry”? SORRY!
SORRY!
SORRY!!!
SORRY!