Title: The Creepy Kids Club
Genre: Contemporary YA
Word Count: 85,000
To Whom It May Concern:
THE CREEPY KIDS CLUB is a contemporary Young Adult novel that documents what happens when kids swap out AP English for Machiavelli 101. It is narrated, unreliably, by a thirteen-year-old girl who stumbles upon a teenage conspiracy of epic proportions.
If all the world’s a stage, Melville Middle School is a reality show waiting to happen. Or that’s the impression Keaton Harris gets when she starts there halfway through the school year. Traditionally tanking in all-things-social, she thinks there’s been some mistake when head cheerleader Samantha Probert recruits her to the popular crowd. And she’s not the only one.
Mitchell "Dodge" Dodgson wants her in his club, which boasts all the school nerds as well as five secret members. Despite Sam’s warnings about social suicide, Keaton is intrigued, launching a war between the cliques. For once, she is center stage—and why not? She has a sparkling personality, superior beauty….and a trump card no one knows about. Okay, only the trump card, so why are they fighting over her?
To find out, Keaton prods away at the dark underbelly of middle school and stumbles upon an unlikely soul mate in Dodge’s best friend Zach, but it’s when she turns double agent for the Creepy Kids Club that she discovers there’s a fine line between the roles we choose and those forced upon us. The trick is keeping them straight.
THE CREEPY KIDS CLUB is a good next step for fans of the Wimpy Kids books. Although darker, it adheres to the popular geek-chic vibe then adds a dimension of OLIVER TWIST; Dodge’s leadership style is half Fagin, half Artful Dodger. Thanks to conspiracies galore and an underclass of hackers à la THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, a semester at Melville is never what it seems. I implore you to check it out, because if there’s a lesson to be learned here (and there is) it’s that all of us could use a dose of creepy.
First 150 Words:
THE CREEPY KIDS CLUB
I came to Melville Middle School one month into seventh grade. Everyone there had known everyone else pretty much all their lives. No one knew me. But that would soon change, according to the principal striding beside me. His name was Mr. Knightley, and he bragged about how easy it was to get to know “his kids”. As I walked along the halls for the first time, I tried in earnest to listen to his sales pitch, yet every step pounded in the reality of what I was—a walking, talking cliché. While Mr. Knightley’s booming voice correctly labeled me as Keaton Harris, I heard it as “The New Kid”, the Nobody, the person no one will want to bother with—not even Mr. Knightley after today.
Little did I know, not everyone saw it that way. One of those faces out there in the maliciously churning sea of unknown seventh-graders masked a mind that had kicked into frantic action.