The Advice Avengers: two girls on a mission to give the best advice possible, no matter what. Just when Corey has life all figured out, she gets detention. Oh no! What if detention is held in a torture chamber? What if it goes on her permanent record and ruins her entire future? Will she develop a taste for coffee or keep spitting it back out? Can trick-or-treating be fun dressed as a big fat pumpkin? Will Tyler and Bruce take all the candy and get everyone in trouble? Corey thinks she can handle any dire situation. But what if a real disaster were to happen? Would she run away, or would she save the day? One thing is for sure: at Emerson Middle School, nothing is ever as bad as it seems… as long as the Advice Avengers are around!
Here’s the second book in my series. Hold on while I choose an excerpt…
And I’m just so deeply relaxed and pleasantly drowsy. I’ll just rest for a minute… or two…
I’m climbing a brilliant purple sand dune underneath an inky black sky, lit by a single vibrant star and thousands of Technicolor fireflies, blinking their rainbow hues to help guide my path. I know where I am going, because I have been here before. My bare feet sink into the shimmery sand with every step upward, and eventually I reach the apex of the dune. I sit upright atop the dune and coast down the other side and feel the warm violet sand beneath me, running through my fingers, as powdery and sticky-sweet as confectioners’ sugar dyed lavender.
In the depths of the sparkling purple basin, Bruce is waiting for me by a shallow marble pool. The pool is empty, until he lights it with a long match and it flares, a pure blue circle of aquamarine fire, cool to the touch and spiritual. “Corey,” he says. “You came here. Corey…”
“Corey! Corey! Wake up! You have to wake up! You overslept!”
“No dud dent,” I mumble. “There’s dill dime. Seed a fire. Seed a fire.”
“Corey, you’re not speaking English!” My overhead lights flash on and off, on and off, on and off, and assault my eyes. I groan and glance at my alarm radio. Almost an hour has passed.
“Oh, no!” I gasp, jerking straight up. “What happened? I’m late!”
Mom grabs my clothes off the floor and throws them at me. A jumper flies through the air, followed by two pants and three shirts. “Here, put something on and come downstairs.” A blue shirt lands on my head. “I’ll give you a ride today. Don’t any of these socks match?”
“Those are the dirty ones, Mom. I’ll get some clean ones from the drawer.” I fight off my blue shirt and climb out of bed.
“Oh.” Mom looks frazzled. “I’ll go get you some breakfast. Hurry down.”
“Thanks Mom. You’re a life-saver. I’ll be right down.”
Mom disappears into the hallway. I note the time again and do some mental math. There’s no way I’d make it on time if I had to walk! I don’t think I’m going to make it anyway. In fact, I’m almost certain.
I remain seated on the edge of my bed, immobile, allowing myself thirty seconds to think. My dreams from last night are hazy, and as I try to grasp them, they flit away entirely. It feels like there’s something important I needed to remember, but I can’t put my finger on it. I wonder if I’m taking a test in school today. If so, I’ll just have to fail it!
I get dressed quickly, denying myself the luxury of coordinating an outfit. I clomp down the front stairs and join Mom in the foyer. She hands me a jacket and a package of frosted Strawberry Pop-Tarts, herds me outside, and locks the door behind her. We both race to the car.
The early morning is dark, cold, and oppressive. I am struck as I always am by how unnatural it feels to be awake at this hour. The sun hasn’t even started to rise and cold dew covers the ground. The preternatural royal blue sky that masquerades as a morning sky should belong to an alien life form, but not to me.
I try in vain to open my car door, repeatedly depressing the handle, until Mom finally clicks the car unlocked. As Mom turns the key in the ignition, she checks the digital time display. “I forget when your school starts. What time do you have to be there?” We buckle our seat belts. She backs the car down the driveway.
“I have ten minutes,” I answer.