Sorry for the late post, but one of my great friends just got engaged and we celebrated last night with a baseball game. Shame on me I know. Today, I have the great pleasure of spending day 4 of YAY 4 YA at the incredible Mundie Moms. I had the pleasure of working with them in conjunction with YALITCHAT, and they are made of awesome sauce.
Today’s blog topic? If You Like…You Might Like The Chosen Ones. I explore other YA series that share similar themes and conflicts as The Chosen Ones.
Now…without any more of a wait…today’s question. And, of course, you do remember how to win super cool prizes, right? If not, here is a reminder:
At the conclusion of YAY 4 YA, I will be picking 5 winners at random to win the following:
2 winners will receive: a signed Chosen Ones poster, a signed Chosen Ones arc, AND a signed Mortal Instruments poster by Cassandra Clare
3 additional winners will win: a signed Mortal Instruments poster by Cassandra Clare and an e-book version of The Chosen Ones
Today’s Question: What is your favorite YA series and why?
And now…another excerpt from The Chosen Ones
The crowd was vibrating with excitement. They were like rabid dogs waiting to sink their teeth into something, waiting to spread their infection. I demanded my eyes open and I saw George and James both on their feet, George’s hands wrapped around James’s neck. Each boy’s face was now blood-red, sweat covering their brows.
Wasn’t someone going to stop this? It was too much; it had gone too far. Some of the girls watched with dread, but none dared speak up. Much to my horror, a few of them looked like they were enjoying it. Because they were fascinated by the way the boys’ bodies moved, or because they were happy to watch our oppressors tear each other to shreds? Of course they didn’t know James was mine and I was his.
It was then I realized that I was walking closer, my body leading me right to the center of the circle.
“Stop!” I screamed.
James’s head snapped in my direction at that moment. That was all it took—one simple distraction. George grabbed onto James’s arm and twisted it, and my ears were filled with a sickening snap. James fell to the floor in pain; I could hear him moaning. George backed away, his hands held up in surrender. “I give in,” he yelled to the crowd.
It was my fault. I had distracted him, had set him up. It was all happening too quickly now. My ears were buzzing. Before I could move to help James, he pulled himself to his feet with a grunt. Something passed before his eyes that I had only seen once before—on the videos of the first chosen one killing the prisoners of war. Any sense of humanity that existed in him had slipped away.
James pulled his good arm back and let it fly. Even the other chosen ones gasped at the strength and determination he exhibited. He kept hitting and hitting and hitting. George crumpled to the floor, and still James didn’t stop.
The James I knew had been replaced with the war machine the council had intended him to be.
And the blood was everywhere. All I could see was how much the substance had tainted my life. Would violence always find me? Of course it would.
If the boy I loved more than anyone else could become a monster, what hope did I have?