Spotlight
Synopsis:
A magical game of hide-and-seek begins. Find the missing player and win. The game resets. They all forget and start the game again. Seventeen-year-old Starr Hughes hasn't believed in magic since the day her mother died. As an aspiring reporter, the only thing she cares about is cold, hard facts. So when she hears the popular kids at school (the It-Squad) are about to start a secret game, she wants every detail, especially since she has a major crush on gorgeous Dylan Winchester. Hiding under the headmaster's desk, planting bugs, and breaking into a classmate's home are all on her to-do list. With her boy-crazy best friend Lily at her side, Starr discovers that witches are not only real, but they also need her help. Someone is using the game to steal their memories, their powers, and perhaps even their lives.
A magical game of hide-and-seek begins. Find the missing player and win. The game resets. They all forget and start the game again. Seventeen-year-old Starr Hughes hasn't believed in magic since the day her mother died. As an aspiring reporter, the only thing she cares about is cold, hard facts. So when she hears the popular kids at school (the It-Squad) are about to start a secret game, she wants every detail, especially since she has a major crush on gorgeous Dylan Winchester. Hiding under the headmaster's desk, planting bugs, and breaking into a classmate's home are all on her to-do list. With her boy-crazy best friend Lily at her side, Starr discovers that witches are not only real, but they also need her help. Someone is using the game to steal their memories, their powers, and perhaps even their lives.
Excerpt
"There she is!”
The scream sliced through Starr’s tired brain, and she winced behind her designer sunglasses. It was too early in the morning to deal with random yelling. If she had it her way, no one would be allowed to do more than whisper until she was totally awake and in a good frame of mind.
She parked her car in the lot across from a massive, gray-stone building—Baycott Academy, the finest private school on the east coast, or so the brochure claimed. You wouldn’t know it by the way some of the students behaved. As she slammed the car door, Starr almost lost a book off the tall stack in her arms. The one on the top, a thin library book she’d borrowed for research, threatened to slide off. Leaning her entire body to the other side, she kept it from doing so. Starr balanced the stack on her hip long enough to tuck her keys into her purse. Her straight, tawny-colored hair caught in the zipper. Wincing, she tugged it loose, minus a few broken strands.
After she got her possessions under control, she glanced around.
Curiosity turned to cold dread. Several students with tight, angry faces charged her from the left, arms cocked, ready to launch some sort of artillery as they weaved around parked cars. She didn’t have time to wonder what they were going to throw at her. Somehow, she didn’t think it would be flowers.
“Get her!” Starr’s head snapped around. Kids were coming from the right, too. They were trying to box her in. The books in her hands seemed to put on weight, and she almost dropped them in her haste to escape. Feeling numb from head to toe, she forced her legs to move.
She took off as fast as she could, heart thundering, grateful she’d worn sneakers instead of flip-flops today. Holding her schoolbooks tight to her chest, she ran. Her purse bounced at the end of a long strap dangling off one shoulder.
At the edge of the parking lot, something struck the side of her head. A frightened cry burst through parted lips. Her hand went to the injured area and found it wet.
Multi-colored balls flew past her. A yellow orb exploded against the sidewalk near her feet, and water sprayed her ankles. The rich kids were throwing water balloons at her. She should have known this was going to happen, should have been prepared for it. Of course they hated her—she’d gotten their favorite teacher fired. Mr. Brighton had been selling test keys to the wealthy dorm students. She’d collected the evidence and handed it over to the headmaster yesterday, right before the school paper printed the story.
Frantic, she sprinted for the double glass doors at the top of the stairs. Her best friend poked her head out and yelled encouragement. A few more feet, and she’d be safe.
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