An Agent's Inbox #28

Dear Agent:

Seventeen-year-old pianist Grace Armstrong tells at least three lies every day. She tells herself the monsters she sees in reflections are just pictures under glass. She tells the molten-skinned beasts they don’t scare her anymore. And she tells herself that she wants nothing more than to be sane. But sanity means the monsters are real, and there’s no way to be okay with that.

When a boy replaces the monsters in her bedroom mirror, Grace decides nothing's crazier than falling for one of her hallucinations. But as Grace and Luke trade messages through the glass, Grace’s lies transform into truths. Luke makes her want to be sane, the monsters don't scare her half as much as falling for him does, and accidentally touching one of the beasts destroys her theory that the monsters are nothing more than products of her twisted imagination. But love is a truth she can’t afford to tell yet, not even when her grandpa finally teaches her just what her strange connection to mirrors means. Armed with a vague understanding of her ability to travel through reflections, and more lies and mistakes than she can keep track of, Grace hurls herself across the void between worlds to reach a suddenly endangered Luke.

But the monster waiting on the other side of the glass wears a human face and Grace has to tell herself the best lie she’s ever told: she can stop him before he kills again.

Complete at 80,000 words, WHAT LIES BETWEEN is a YA Contemporary Fantasy that will appeal to fans of Lisa Mangum's The Hourglass Door and A.G. Howard's Splintered. I am a member of SCBWI, the founder/leader of my local writers’ guild, and a two time winner of the LDStorymakers First Chapter Contest. I have included the first 250 words as per your submission guidelines.

Best wishes,

K.V.

WHAT LIES BETWEEN

Silence fell in a slow wave as I pulled away from the keys, the final chords of my newest song slipping into the quiet. Morning sunlight bathed the piano and made its edges soft. I slid a hand across the lip of the key bed, loving how the worn wood didn’t shine with the threat of reflection. The threat of monsters.

Mom shuffled into the room, bleary-eyed and yawning. Steam rose from the glossy black mug cradled in her hands. “That didn’t sound like Chopin, Gracie.”

I caught a whiff of coffee and smiled. “And that doesn’t smell like your decaf.” 

She and Dad were doing some sort of cleanse--her idea--and caffeine was forbidden. 

Mom leaned in, the scent of hazelnut heavy on her breath. “Don’t tell your father,” she whispered. 

“Only if you don’t tell Mr. Lee I’m ditching Chopin today.” I crashed out a few upbeat chords. “I swear, if I play one more audition piece, my brain’s going to leak out of my ears.” 

“One day off from audition work and then I crack the whip. I don’t want to get in trouble with Mr. Lee either.”

Mom laughed and caressed my cheek. The heat from her coffee-warmed fingers sank into my skin as rare Vancouver sunlight poured through our condo’s windows. I tensed when the light found her mug, hating how the dark curve of it warped my reflection.

But I hated even more how my distorted face stared back at me for only half a second before the monsters replaced it.