Although the month has changed, I still have one post for last month’s theme of YA fiction. My Monday Sparks Writing Prompts have been about the building blocks for a YA story, encouraging readers to vote on a protagonist, antagonist, plot, and setting. All the elements are pictured above and I’ll list them below. I’ll write an opening with these building blocks for a YA story and you can use the same building blocks to write your own opening in the comments. I’d love to know how these elements inspire you!

• Protagonist: Young man
• Antagonist: Young woman
• Plot: Puzzle. A mysterious problem the protagonist must solve and the antagonist tries to prevent him from solving. Does not have to be crime related.
• Main settings: Small-town library and pizza place

“That’s too cool,” said Ava as she tried to cram another coffee table book on the shelves for oversized books. “How many people get invited to the reading of a will? I hope you have to go to Mrs.Vander’s house in a storm at night.”

“Actually, it’s in the lawyer’s office tomorrow at 11 am,” I said, moving down the aisle to slide a book into the pets section. “And my mom’s going with me since I’m underage.”

“It still might storm,” said Ava with a grin.

Once I’d emptied my cart of returned books, I wheeled it into the main walkway through the adult nonfiction. And almost crashed into Amyra Vander.

“You aren’t really coming to the reading of the will, are you?” she asked, flinging long strands of red-enhaced hair over her shoulder.

My eyes were swelling wide open. In the two years I’d worked at the main branch of the library, I’d never seen Amyra in it. In fact, although we’d been in the same grade since kindergarten, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken to her. Being an average-looking guy with average-brains and below-average talent and ambitions seemed to keep me off the radar of the High Queen of the High School.

“She probably only left you $50.” Her brown eyes–maybe hazel–narrowed to mean little streaks. “She couldn’t have left anything more to her lawn boy.”

“Then I’ll get my check and leave.” I gave her my polite, I’m-working-so-I-can’t-chat smile that I always kept handy for any patron who saw me as target for a conversation.

“Why humiliate yourself? Just don’t show.”

I kept walking away.

“I know you heard me. You’d better not show.”