Water Speaker

Just a little overview of my novel that's riding the query-go-round right now...

Query

Seventeen-year-old April Harding would rather lose an eye than lose her magic. And considering she can't hear, that's saying something.

April is determined to prove that a deaf athlete can still compete in magical sports, but the game scene is hardly steady. Player no-shows have been increasing for weeks. When April witnesses a suspicious conversation, she discovers why: someone is stealing players' powers, an act pretty much on par with cutting their legs off. Yet none of the victims have come forward. Some have even committed suicide, leaving April with nil evidence when she approaches the police. She needs solid proof before anyone else becomes a target, and she's ready to fight for it. There's just one tiny problem: the magic thief knows that April is onto her. And that makes April a pretty good-looking target herself.

WATER SPEAKER (57,000 words) is a YA modern fantasy.

Sincerely,

Katrina S. Forest

First 250 words

The pebbles had started growing again. I ran as fast as I could, but by the time I reached them, they'd blown up to the size of refrigerators and blocked the entire length of the playing court. Behind them, my opponent merrily dribbled the ball towards my goal.

Not now. Not this game. Focus on his weakness.

Right. My opponent's boulder-growing magic was nice and all, but it made him a one-trick pony. Once he set up his stupid barriers, he became like a soccer player, moving the ball with his feet and nothing else.

I, on the other hand, had my water.

I cupped my hands, and the floating puddle next to me flowed through my fingers, letting me manipulate it like putty. The words "25 meters to goal" flew across the glowing blue scoreboard.

I sent two jets of water flying into the closest boulders. They broke right through. The brittle rocks fell to pieces, sending decent vibrations through the rubber flooring. I leapt over the rubble, and my lungs seized with the dusty air.

"15 meters to goal," flashed the scoreboard. How had he passed the center line already? I split the water again, creating a line of four liquid globes. No problem seeing my opponent now – his uniform was an obnoxious bright red with the words, "Harrisburg Fine Chocolate" emblazoned in yellow on either arm. But the gap between us was huge. It'd take a quarter minute to catch the guy at least.