Pete's life isn't great, but he gets along. It's not like
he's the only person in the world to have an alcoholic for a mother and a dad
who's AWOL. So what if he releases the pressure with a joint or a stolen car
every now and then? He doesn't keep the cars. He's not hurting anyone.
Sonny's life isn't great, but it's better than most. There
are worse things than moving away from your friends or being ignored by your
workaholic mother. But knowing this doesn't make it easier when your mother
interrupts your conversation to take a phone call. When that happens, the cute
guy flirting from the expensive car is a welcomed distraction. At least until
he loses control of the car and smashes it right into her.
Pete and Sonny may wake in different hospitals, but they
wake with something in common. Both have received blood tainted with the power
to manipulate space, to be wherever they want in an instant. The people with
whom the power originated are being hunted through worlds, leaving more dead
behind them every time they flee. Pete and Sonny could help. Or they could keep
themselves to themselves and stay alive.
But the more time they spend exploring their newfound
abilities, the more attention they draw and the more their options disappear.
It isn't long before they realize that to keep from being prey, they must
become the hunters.
ONE HUNDRED KNOWN WORLDS is a completed, 83,000 word young
adult contemporary fantasy. I am a member of SCBWI, attend a weekly writers'
group, and blog regularly. I'd be happy to send additional materials upon
Thank you for your time and consideration.
ONE HUNDRED KNOWN WORLDS
The way Pete saw it, he was doing the guy a favor. You
didn’t leave a Maserati Quattroporte parked on Patterson, with the doors
unlocked no less, without wanting it gone. Simple as that. Parking a Maserati
in this part of Southie was just another way of saying, “Hey man, I could
really use the insurance money right now. Help a guy out.”
Pete was nothing if not helpful.
How to liberate a car was the only useful skill his father
had seen fit to pass on before he'd become no more than a name on the bottom of
sporadic child support checks. Pete had paid attention. It took a few minutes--he
was rusty on his big game skills--but he worked it out. It didn’t hurt that the
windows were tinted all to hell and back, either. He ducked below the dash to
work, so no one was going to see him unless they opened the door.
When the engine purred to life, so did he, electric
excitement coursing from the gas pedal right up through his body. He felt like
a king as he eased into the midday traffic. King of what, he didn't know, but
it didn't matter for now. For now all that mattered was how the pulse of the
Maserati became his own, and how he didn't have to think about anything but the
feel of the road beneath him. Time to celebrate.
He fished a smoke from his stash and lit up.