Longtime critique partners Julie Kingsley and Cameron Rosenblum dive into another first page for The Manuscript Academy Podcast. Join them for a quick reading and review of contemporary YA first page. Repped by the fabulous Brianne Johnson, a Senior Agent at Writer’s House, Cameron is a school librarian, who served as a judge for the CYBIL’s Award and was a guest blogger for the Nerdy Book Club.

This page by author Lauren Shade.

CHAPTER ONE

SADIE

I can't get caught.

My stomach turns as I unclench my fists and wipe my palms down the side of my shorts. I can’t. I am so close…so close to the truth I can taste it, and if I get caught, she’ll take it away from me. She did it once. She’ll do it again.

I keep my eyes locked on the kitchen archway. Toes curled in the plush living room carpet. Sweat gathers under my arms and behind my bent knees, in the area where my boobs meet the underwire of my bra. My heart beat drums in my ears, much louder than the air conditioning or the gentle wind pulling the smell of salt-water and rain through the open terrace doors. The wall separating us is streaked yellow with sunlight. I can almost see her through it, phone pressed against her ear, probably pacing and definitely with a drink in hand, but nowhere close to suspecting what’s going on right under her nose. With a shaky breath, I inch my hand into my mother’s coat pocket. Slowly. Slowly. Fingers touching metal and plastic.

This is wrong. Stealing her keys. Breaking into her office.

I should stop.

Maybe I should listen to Dante’s advice for once.

The first time he told me some things were better left alone was when I was twelve. It was during primary school. I would spend each summer at the Arzola Estate in Coral Gables.

The manicured lawns were my playground. The ocean front was a mini paradise I would swim in for hours on end. One day when the chauffeur dropped me off, he turned to me with dead-set eyes and said, “Nobody has this much money unless they’re involved in bad things; if you know what I mean.” But, I didn’t know what he meant…though I’d soon find out.

Dante and I used to love playing hide and seek at night.

That night was no different.

The mansion was a fortress. I would fade into the shadows of the hallway or climb the stairs to the third floor, maybe higher to the fourth where the library was and the art studio. This time I was it. I stood in the middle of the common room, shouting the countdown behind cloaked eyes and a smile that grew wider by the second. When I finally found him, Dante was hiding outside the boathouse, but he wasn’t hiding from me. There was a blizzard in his eyes, a frozen panic that raised chill bumps on my arms. He had turned into a statue—stone-faced and stone-silent. I was cautious as I approached him.

“Dante?”

Pop!

I jumped as the gun exploded.

A metallic jingle—the keys scraping against each other. The memories vanish, and I’m back in the den. My mother’s voice floats from the next room, low and quick. I strain to make out the conversation she’s having, gauge how close or far she is, but her words all mesh together.

Focus.

“Damn it, Javi! Who gave him access to the accounts? Do I need to come there myself?”

I go completely still, the keys swinging back and forth in my fingers. In the kitchen, cabinets open with a creak and shut with a bang. Her accent draws closer as though she’s walking toward the living room. I pinch my eyes closed and grit my teeth until my jaw starts to ache, and though inside I’m on fire, outside I’m ice. I’m Dante on the night we heard those noises.