Monday, May 4, 2015

Welcome to Linda Oatman High with her new release DECEMBER from @Evernightteen

I know this tour ended last week and the rafflecopter is done but I wanted to share this Character Interview with Lake Millay, protagonist of Linda Oatman High’s DECEMBER:

What are some of your favorite things?

Poetry and pies! I’ve been baking since I was little (with my Mom, when I still had her), and I love making the perfect pie crust. And poetry? Well, duh, my last name is Millay! I always wanted to own a poetry and pie shop.

What are your most treasured possessions?

“The Life Book Of Lake Millay,” my scrapbook with all my special things: the poetry I write, recipes of my Mom’s, my baby hair. All that good stuff. Plus the baby food jar of water from Lake Superior in Michigan. It was snow on the day I was born, and then it melted. Everything always changes to something else.

How would you describe yourself?

Well, non-generic, I guess. Some people say I look like a Goth, because I wear a lot of black, but I’m totally not a Goth. I’m just me: Lake Millay. A little chunky, too pale sometimes, frizzy dark hair. (Why couldn’t I inherit Mom’s sleek blonde hair?!)

Who’s your favorite person?

Emma Ebling, my best friend since I was like born. But I had to move away from her, 
on account of my Dad’s job. He’s a preacher.

Are you religious?

Spiritual, that’s the word. I go to church, sometimes, but I believe it’s more about how you live your life in the real world.

Why did you move to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania?

Was there any choice? We had to go because of my Dad’s job. He was offered a preacher position at some rinky-dink holy roller church in Amishland . . . so off we went.

Just you and your dad?

Yep. My mom is in Alaska, studying polar bears and global warming and all that.

What’s your best memory from being a little girl?

Well, I remember Mom wearing this T-shirt she made: it was my baby footprints dipped in paint.

And your worst memory?

Duh, my Uncle Brock.

What’s the worst decision you ever made?

To hang out with Brit and Seth.


I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s pretty obvious, right?

How long will you be in here?

For life . . . and that’s a helluva long time.

* * * * * *

Linda Oatman High

Contemporary YA Romance/Bullying, 54k

~Editor's Pick~

Lake Millay has goals, hopes, and dreams...until she moves to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania and becomes ensnared in a vortex of violence. 

Bullying and stalking become Lake’s life, and ultimately the destroyer of her dreams.

A cautionary tale based on the true story of Laurie Show, murdered by three teens in 1991.

Buy Links:    Evernight Teen    Amazon   ARe


 “This gazing globe’s really old, like from the 1800s.  People believed that a witch couldn’t sneak up on you when you were looking into the dome.”   The voice comes from nowhere and from everywhere, and an electric bolt of fear buzzes through my body.  My heart thunders, filling my chest and ears.  I’m dizzy, numb with shock, not able to move. 
Then a face appears––a face––blurring and blending into my own in the rounded silver of the globe.   I scream, filling my body and my heart and my ears, and I leap and fall backwards, banging hard into flesh and bone:  a person.
I scream again and fall on my knees in the mud. 
“HELP!  NO!”
“Man.  You’re jumpy.  Sorry if I scared you.”
It’s a girl, just a scrawny anorexic-looking girl, about my age, fair-haired and pale, with fake-looking cobalt-colored eyes.  She’s one of those girls with an upturned little nose and perfect teeth.  Flawless complexion.  Makeup.  Teeny-weeny, clean white shorts.  Tanned cheerleaderish legs.
I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“Man, you scare easy.”  Knuckles on hips, she cocks her head to the side, pale hair falling over those bright blue eyes.
I press my hand to my heart.  Puke climbs up my throat, and then slides back down again.
“What are you so jumpy about?  There’s nothing to be scared of around here.  Not like it’s an epicenter for crime.”
There are definitely shades of cheerleader in this girl, yet none of that high-pitched perkiness.  Clouds of sadness seem to be leaking from her eyes and her smile and her voice, despite the faultless exterior.  A tiny diamond-like chip glints on her nose. 
“We don’t even lock our doors around here,” she says.
I heave myself to a standing position.  My heart’s still racing in a marathon of terror.
“What did you think I was?” the girl asks and I shrug.
“A wacko.  Weirdo.  Murderer.  You never know.”
She barks out a laugh. 
“All of the above,” she says.  “You better run.”
I try to smile.
“Here,” she says, reaching down to pluck a flower. “Peace offering.”  She holds a red-nailed hand toward me––her thumb and finger, daintily holding the stem of the red flower.
I take it.   Our fingers graze.
 “Servants also used these gazing globes to be sneaky and watch their bosses,” the girl says.  “Pretty far-out, huh?”
I’m still shaking, but I nod.
“Cool shirt.  I can tell that you’re not from around here.”
I look down, suddenly super-aware I’m about fifty pounds bigger than this chick.  This makes me irritable, and I shove the red flower into the pocket of my shorts.
 “What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask.  “Don’t they have laws about trespassing around here?”
“Just checking out the new neighbors,” she says with a shrug of bony shoulders.  Her voice is like cornhusk: raspy and rough.
 “Where’d you come from?”
“Over there.”  She points with her sharp little chin.  “Through the field and to the left.  When the corn’s down in the winter, you can actually see our place.”
“I’m Brit Dannon,” she says.   “Brit with one T, not two.  You’re the new preacher’s kid, I presume?  Got any pot?”
“What?”  I almost laugh. 
“Got any weed?”
“No, I . . . don’t smoke.”
“Man.  You really aren’t from around here.  What’s your name, anyway?”
“Lake Millay.”  There’s a final feeble clank of thunder, like beaters in an empty metal bowl, and then the sun comes out, shining.  Brit Dannon seems to shimmer:  shiny hair and makeup and nails and that perfect-girl sparkly shirt, with sequins spelling out the word Princess
“Welcome to Badger Gap, Lake Millay,” she says.  “The Center of the Universe!  The most happenin’ location on the planet!  The place that’s going to freaking change your life!” 

About the Author:

Linda Oatman High is an author/journalist/playwright who lives in Lancaster County, PA. She’s published more than 20 books for children and teens, and her books have won many awards and honors, including VOYA (Voice of Youth Advocates) “Perfect Ten” awards. Linda also writes for adults, and her short story NICKEL MINES HARDWARE, based upon the Amish school shootings of 2006, was honored in England in 2012 with the Sunday Times EFG Short Story award shortlist. Linda holds an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts, and she presents at schools from K-college both nationally and internationally.


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