Young Adult Fiction
Excerpt
close this panel
After my brother died, my dad said the nightmares—the ghosts—were all in my mind. That they couldn't hurt me. Turns out he was wrong.
Excerpt
close this panel
She opened it and sprinkled something onto a hand mirror. A pure white powder. She divided it in half, stuck a short straw up one nostril and snorted the powder.
"Cocaine?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, "it's way better than beer. Try some." She pushed it towards me. "Go on, it won't hurt you."
I should have said no. But I just stared at that innocent-looking white powder and said nothing.
Excerpt
close this panel
Papá siempre decía: "La palabra crisis es sólo otra forma de decir oportunidad".
