I am seeking representation for A DIFFERENT WINTER, a character-driven YA novel complete at 51,000 words.
When sixteen-year-old Rebecca's busy father dumps his family in
She is unimpressed by the prospect of another new adventure until she sees Luke, a popular boy with a girlfriend of his own. Determined to get his attention, Rebecca fights off her debilitating shyness to dive into student life. She even joins the first cheerleading squad in
As each new venture draws her out of her shell, Rebecca slides further from the volatile situation at home. She takes frequent refuge with Katie, an Iowan with a foul mouth and a big heart, and who knows
When her little brother is injured while under the care of their inebriated mother, guilt and anger consume Rebecca. Then, she inadvertently causes Luke's expulsion and deportation. She flees to the north end of the island, where Manny shows her that his life isn't very different from her own.
I have pasted the first 250 words of A DIFFERENT WINTER below. I hope you will ask to see more. Thank you for your time and consideration.
A DIFFERENT WINTER
We'd hardly arrived, and my parents were arguing in the bedroom. Dad's calm voice intersected Mom's shrill protests. Somewhere in the mix I heard, "New start," and "Time to think.”
"I hope the neighbors don't understand English," my sister Lori said with a smirk as she curled on the sofa with an airplane magazine.
My little brother Michael seemed oblivious to the noise as he rummaged through Dad's suit pockets, probably looking for foreign coins.
I skirted the mound of suitcases in the living room, opened the balcony door and stepped into the heat. Flamenco music filtered from somewhere below, almost obliterated by the hiss of sand pulled to sea by the surf. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the classical notes, if only to drown out my parents.
Dad finally came outside and leaned against the railing. As usual, he hid his impatience behind a serene expression and a freshly lit cigarette.
Inside, the sound of colliding dishes punctuated Mom's side of the argument. She wore her emotions on the outside and dishwashing was always a clear indication of her mood. When she was in good spirits, she sang above the gentle clink of cutlery against crockery. When she was pissed off, plates crashed together like cymbals.
Dad squinted against the sunlight and took a drag on his cigarette. He rubbed his chin with a knuckle and cocked his head at the door. "Don’t worry, she'll get used to this. She always does."