Betrayal is a concept Taylor Anderson knows all too well. Thanks to a lie orchestrated by her best friend, Sunny, her friends won’t look at her, her classmates won’t talk to her, and the boy she might love won’t return her calls.
Betrayal is the reason
But instead of disappearing to a peaceful place filled with puffy clouds and harp-playing angles,
Until the ghosts appear.
Not the ghosts of other people trapped on the stairs--
Instead, the ghosts of the people she wants to forget swirl before her and plunge her back to the horrible week before the accident. Turns out that disappearing from your life doesn’t mean you get to leave it behind.
But the staircase is more than the haunted punishment it first appears to be. Within it lies a second chance to uncover the true value of everything
Unless the staircase and the ghosts of her past break her before she can reach the top.
WHERE THE STAIRCASE ENDS is a 61,000 word YA novel that includes both contemporary and fantastical elements. The humor, emotion and character transformation will appeal to fans of Lauren Oliver’s BEFORE I FALL and Gayle Forman’s IF I STAY.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
All the best,
WHERE THE STAIRCASE ENDS
I never noticed how pointy my elbows were. They were thorny things, jutting out from my sides like useless wings. I flattened them against my body, not wanting to give anyone yet another reason to avoid me.
It didn’t help.
A line of three girls made an unnecessary showing of skirting past me, exchanging smirks with the subtlety of elephants. Once out of viewing range I heard the hiss, hiss, hiss of heated whispers passing between them.
That was her, right? She’s the girl?
I fought the urge to spin around and shoot venom right back at them, but I didn’t want to waste my words on three girls I wouldn’t have cared about yesterday. Besides, Sunny was the snake I wanted to bite.
No one was at Sunny’s locker when I passed by. Without the swarm of bodies and hum of morning activity it looked like any other locker in any other hallway. The only sign that it meant something more was the key-scratched heart and initials I had carved into the tan paint earlier that year.
I <3 J.C.
Had Sunny gotten to him, too?
The hallways seemed longer than they had before, twisting labyrinth-like between the classroom wings. Posters hung above archways, their edges curling into the hand painted block letters like they were ashamed of the drips and wrinkles in the imperfect writing. I straightened my shoulders. I would not be like the posters. I would not be ashamed of something I had not done.