Genre: MG Contemporary Fantasy
Word Count: 68,000
Thirteen-year-old January Stone wakes up in a new place each morning, making uncontrolled jumps across hundreds of miles in her sleep. Hungry for friends she can keep from one day to the next, she doesn’t realize that being hard to find is the only thing keeping her alive.
But then a stranger with pits of black mist for eyes begins hunting January, which draws the attention of the Dreamwalkers, a group of kids and teens who recognize her as one of their own. For January, finding friends at last is worth having to flee from the terrifying Fallen — once-human monsters who seek to devour Dreamwalkers’ souls. But clashing personalities and old grudges keep the Dreamwalkers from playing nice at the best of times — and tensions explode when they find a note from a dead Dreamwalker, warning of a betrayer among them.
January must keep her new friends from turning on each other long enough to unravel a mystery that has already claimed one Dreamwalker’s life, knowing all the while that trusting the wrong person could be a fatal mistake. The secrets she discovers will force her to choose whether to sacrifice her friends... or become a Fallen herself.
I’m seeking representation for my upper middle grade contemporary fantasy novel, DREAMWALKERS (68,000 words).
One summer day, two years after Auntie Vera died, I woke to the smell of mildew.
It’s not my favorite odor. But more than once, it’s been my first clue to my location, before I open my eyes. And when you never know where you’ll be when you wake up, you take all the clues you can get. A sound, a smell, or even the feeling of the air on your skin can warn you not to move — or to jump up and get out of there. Like the time I woke up to train tracks humming under my back, or to a bear snuffling my face.
This time, it was mildew — and a girl’s voice, close by.
I opened my eyes, ready to do some fast talking if she’d seen me. But I was alone, as usual. I lay curled on the floor of a garden shed, between a barrel of cobwebby rakes and a rusted wheelbarrow.
The girl’s trembling voice drifted in through the half-open window. She was clearly trying out new swear words — hesitantly at first, but with passion.
This could be awkward.
I stood, intending to peek outside. Immediately, wings exploded into a wild, breathy flutter as a bird knocked a flowerpot off the shelf next to its nest, buzzed my head, and swooped out the window.
At the crash, the cursing outside broke off. Before I could do more than freeze, the door flew open.
Framed in it stood a girl with flyaway brown hair and freckles across her nose.