Okay, #PitchSlam people, first, you guys are all amazing for entering Pitch Slam and sending your baby books out into the world and entrusting us with them. Putting yourself out there for critique is hard, and doesn't necessarily get any easier. On that note, here is my post for you to critique one of my works in progress.
Name: Rebecca Waddell
Genre: YA Sci-Fi
Title: IMBUED
Word Count: 57,000 words
Special Question:
Weiss would be the nameless guy in the background of the Cantina scene, because he’s not interested in getting enough attention to get a name in the credits.
35 Word Pitch:
When fifteen-year-old Weiss gets terminally ill along with other Imbued teens, he must fight to survive not only the mysterious illness, but also to keep the government from rounding up all Imbueds still left alive.
First 250:
The video on sexually transmitted diseases couldn’t be more boring. I’m half asleep when something ricochets off of Levi’s yarmulke, hitting my desk. A small black flip-flop? It must belong to Ming Che; she has the smallest feet of anyone in tenth grade. I turn around to hand back the wayward shoe, but Ming isn’t sitting in her desk.
She’s on the ground, her dark eyes open, staring. She had collapsed without a sound, her shoeless leg sticking out sideways.
My twin sister, Riley, kneels down to help Ming. “Call an ambulance,” she commands.
Mr. Dormer’s already on the phone, panic filing his eyes. “They need someone to guide the paramedics in.”
My stomach churns.
“She’s freezing,” Riley says.
Levi runs for the door, one hand straightening his yarmulke: “I’ll go.”
Wishing I’d gotten outside first, I back away from Ming.
“Weiss, hand me her cardigan,” Riley says.
I swallow against the bitterness in my mouth and pass my sister the sweater off Ming’s chair. Sirens blare to a stop.
Riley spreads it over her like a blanket and presses her fingers against Ming’s wrist. “Her pulse is weak.”
I edge farther from Ming as Levi returns with the firefighters and paramedics. Four navy uniforms surround Ming.
“Her pulse is weak,” Riley says.
The emergency crew moves like the building is burning down. As they load Ming on the gurney, one firefighters stops to stare at the winking green lobster tattoo on Ming’s left foot.“Great. Another one,” he says.
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