THE SHOW MUST NOT GO ON is a 70,000-word, young adult dystopian fantasy novel. It can stand alone, but has trilogy potential.
If sixteen-year-old Lori Gibbs fails to impress the judges in Easten’s Talent Show, she’ll hang. She can fly though, so she’ll probably impress.
What she can’t do is sit back while they hang her new best friend, a fellow contestant.
Lori decides she’ll share her powers with
Lori confides her plan in two other contestants: her roommate, and the guy stealing her heart. Unbeknownst to her, one of them is a spy.
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THE SHOW MUST NOT GO ON
My talent was about the only thing that made my parents happy. And in my sixteen years of experience, I had learned their happiness usually ended in my suffering. So when they called me for dinner, their voices high and excited, a hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach.
I walked into the kitchen where they sat at the table, holding hands and smiling. The knot in my stomach grew.
“Lori,” Mom said, “come eat.”
I stayed where I was. Our best silver platters were piled high with fish, chicken, and rice. Fruit and rolls topped our porcelain bowls. And our crystal pitchers were filled to the brim with tea. Eating well was not rare for us. Eating for a family of ten was.
Dad cleared his throat. “Your mother and I,” he said, “have decided--”
“Wait until she sits,” Mom said.
I didn’t sit, and I didn’t touch the food. It wasn’t like it was poisoned. If I died, my talent would die with me, and then I’d be about as valuable as the platter of dead fish. But if they were going to wait until I sat to tell me what they were about to tell me, I’d stand for the rest of my life.
They exchanged a glance and then looked back to me.
Dad sighed. “It’s time,” he said.
I leaned against the table and tried to soften my glare. “Time for what?” I asked, even though we all knew I knew.
“We’re registering you in the Talent Show,” Mom said.