Monument 14 (Monument 14 Series #1) by Emmy Laybourne, Audiobook (CD) | Barnes & Noble
Monument 14 (Monument 14 Series #1)

Monument 14 (Monument 14 Series #1)

4.3 114
by Emmy Laybourne, Todd Haberkorn

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Your mother hollers that you're going to miss the bus. She can see it coming down the street. You don't stop and hug her and tell her you love her. You don't thank her for being a good, kind, patient mother. Of course not—you launch yourself down the stairs and make a run for the corner.

Only, if it's the last time you'll ever


Your mother hollers that you're going to miss the bus. She can see it coming down the street. You don't stop and hug her and tell her you love her. You don't thank her for being a good, kind, patient mother. Of course not—you launch yourself down the stairs and make a run for the corner.

Only, if it's the last time you'll ever see your mother, you sort of start to wish you'd stopped and did those things. Maybe even missed the bus.

But the bus was barreling down our street, so I ran.

Fourteen kids. One superstore. A million things that go wrong.

In Emmy Laybourne's action-packed debut novel Monument 14, six high school kids (some popular, some not), two eighth graders (one a tech genius), and six little kids trapped together in a chain superstore build a refuge for themselves inside. While outside, a series of escalating disasters, beginning with a monster hailstorm and ending with a chemical weapons spill, seems to be tearing the world—as they know it—apart.

Editorial Reviews

The New York Times Book Review
Laybourne's strong characterizations of the resourceful, optimistic children who make up this improvised family intensify the horror of the situation and make the almost cartoonish series of catastrophes frighteningly real.
—Jennifer Hubert Swan
Publishers Weekly
Actress/screenwriter Laybourne’s debut ably turns what could have been yet another postapocalyptic YA novel into a tense, claustrophobic, and fast-paced thriller. In the not-too-distant future, a sudden hailstorm—just one small part of a massive environmental cataclysm—forces 14 Colorado students on their way to school to take refuge in a superstore. Cut off from the previously ubiquitous Network (with only one old TV as an occasional information source), they must cope with the standard personality conflicts and also a biochemical weapon leak that causes behavioral shifts in some of the kids. Bookish Dean narrates, observing his own jealousies and concerns, as well as the way the popular kids—like football players Jake and Brayden, and diving champ Astrid—are forced to question their place in the new social order. Although violence (including a sexual assault) is pervasive, it’s rarely graphic and never gratuitous. Laybourne successfully develops a large cast of characters of assorted ages, and if the ending seems designed to tease a sequel, the story still stands well on its own. Ages 13–up. Agent: Susanna Einstein, Einstein Thompson Agency. (June)
From the Publisher

“...a combination survival and apocalyptic story.” —VOYA

“...a real thriller…” —Booklist

“…Laybourne's debut ably turns what could have been yet another postapocalyptic YA novel into a tense, claustrophobic, and fast-paced thriller.” —Publishers Weekly, starred

“...intriguing beyond the survival elements...” —Horn Book

“...readers will eagerly await the second volume. ” —Kirkus

“Concise, clear, and riveting. A cliff-hanger ending leaves readers devastated but breathlessly awaiting the sequel. A stellar addition to any collection.” —School Library Journal

VOYA - Eileen Kuhl
Monument 14 is a combination survival and apocalyptic story. In Laybourne's debut novel, Dean leaves for school and is catapulted into a devastating natural disaster. On the way to school, a massive hail storm strikes the bus and causes major casualties. As the bus crashes into a Greenway store, the fourteen survivors take shelter. News reports soon make it obvious that a rescue will not be imminent. The group learns that most of their city—Monument, Colorado—has been destroyed, large portions of the eastern United States have been leveled by a tsunami, and the local nuclear facility has released toxic gases that make people violent or terminally ill if exposed. They attempt to build a safe environment as they begin to lose oxygen, electricity, and contact with the outside world. Told from the viewpoint of the introverted Dean, teen angst, fear, indecision, and sadness are portrayed. The author creates distinctive characters that range in age from preschool to high school, and each character has his or her own talents and flaws. Some are loveable, and some are annoying. The author includes multiple detailed descriptions of trivial details of day-to-day life that diminish the critical magnitude of the situation. The ending leaves this unexceptional story open to a sequel. Monument 14 may appeal to avid readers of survival stories and those who enjoyed Susan Pfeffer's Life As We Knew It (Harcourt, 2006/Voya October 2006) or Carol Plum-Ucci's Fire Will Fall (Harcourt, 2010/Voya August 2010). There are a few violent and sexual scenes that may disturb some readers. Monument 14 should be considered a discretionary purchase for a high school or public library. Reviewer: Eileen Kuhl
Children's Literature - Kathie M. Josephs
The quotation, "Live each day as if it was your last" certainly is perfect for this book. Two brothers raced to catch two different school buses. On the bus ride to school a strange thing started to happen. The bus in front was pelted with what everyone thought was rain, but was really hail that caused both buses to wreck. Those who were able to get out of the bus before it blew up ended up trapped in a chain superstore. There were six kids in high school, two in eighth grade, and six little ones. They go to work and build a refuge for themselves inside, while terrible disasters are happening outside. Some of these disasters are earthquakes, chemical weapon spills, and many unknown events. The students have to learn to get along and work together, which is difficult (to say the least) for some. Fortunately, there were necessities like food, chairs, clothes, and bathrooms in the store, but the little ones miss their mothers, other kids fight, and everyone is just plain scared. The author begins this book with a bang and it continues throughout the novel. It gives the reader a lot to think about and makes you wonder what you would have done differently from the kids in the story. The first paragraph sets the tone for the book and never lets the reader down. Reviewer: Kathie M. Josephs
Library Journal
I missed this debut until it made it onto my friend and colleague Jennifer Hubert’s annual Reading Rants ( “Best of” List. In Monument, CO, the day started just like any other for Dean and his younger brother Alex: on the school bus. Then, only minutes after boarding, a freak hail storm precipitated by a massive seismic event off of the East Coast heralds catastrophe. The brothers and 12 other kids seek shelter in a local superstore, waiting out the horror outside and battling their own demons within. Reminiscent of Stephen King’s The Mist (1980) and Under the Dome (2009), this chilling page-turner puts ordinary kids into an increasingly desperate situation, hinging their survival on ingenuity and minute-by-minute decision making. An altogether original twist on the zombie apocalypse story.

(c) Copyright 2013. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

School Library Journal
Gr 9 Up—At the start of a seemingly ordinary day, Dean and his younger brother, Alex, board their separate buses on the way to school. Without warning, a killer hail rains down and sets into motion this gripping, postapocalyptic tale. From the start, Dean's voice shines and hooks readers into this compelling story. The 14 surviving students from the two school buses find shelter in a local superstore. The six high school students, including Dean, try to assume adult roles and protect and care for the younger children. Each of the teens seems to represent a different stereotype: jock, nerd, loner, popular girl, stoner, and weird girl. Once the action starts, though, the characters come into their own, growing and facing the challenges or turning within and refusing to face reality. Despite the large number of characters, readers will feel emotionally connected to these children, root for their triumphs, and grieve for their hardships. The youngsters must survive an earthquake, handle intruders, halt the effects of a chemical warfare spill, combat homesickness, and cope with the loss of the world as they knew it. They are challenged at every turn in this suspenseful and well-paced plot, yet the tale never loses its credibility. Dean's honest account is concise, clear, and riveting. A cliff-hanger ending leaves readers devastated but breathlessly awaiting the sequel. A stellar addition to any collection.Cindy Wall, Southington Library & Museum, CT
School Library Journal - Audio
Gr 9 Up—Take your everyday apocalyptic story, put some high school and middle school students and kindergarteners together on a bus, hurtle them into a giant supermarket, sprinkle a contamination epidemic, and you get Laybourne's thriller (Feiwel & Friends, 2012). Sophomore outcast Dean narrates the ordeal as he struggles to look out for his brother, keep an eye on his crush, and keep order as major issues arise (contaminated air and water, murderers on the outside, lice). What makes this different from other doomsday titles is its ability to create a solid family amongst the different ages of characters that all look out for the youngest of survivors. Each of the discs begins and ends with an eerie instrumental piece, while Todd Haberkorn's careful narration shows limited emotion as the harrowing events unfold. A few sexual situations and carnage descriptions make this appropriate for slightly older teens. The audio ends abruptly with a cliff-hanger, hinting at a sequel. Fans of Susan Pfeffer's Life as We Knew It (Harcourt, 2006) or Ashfall (Tanglewood, 2011) by Mike Mullin will enjoy Laybourne's debut novel. Purchase where demand for dystopian fiction is high.—Amanda Schiavulli Finger Lakes Library System, NY
Kirkus Reviews
A staggering natural disaster maroons a handful of teens and younger children in a suburban Colorado big-box department store. An ordinary morning school-bus ride almost instantly goes wrong when a sudden, bizarre hailstorm wrecks Dean's bus to the high school and sends the elementary/middle school bus through the wall of a nearby Greenway. Heroically, driver Mrs. Wooly goes back to rescue the surviving high school kids and then ventures back out into the chaos for help. While the kids wait--and it will surprise no one when Mrs. Wooly fails to return--they sort out power relationships and monitor events on the outside as best they can. As the days go by, these relationships shift; not surprisingly, some kids are better at survival than others. The introduction of a couple of adults into their self-contained universe threatens the delicate balance. The storytelling takes some shortcuts. The near-future setting seems to derive mostly from the narrative necessity of keeping the lights on (solar arrays on the roof power the store); a chemical-agent cocktail that escapes NORAD conveniently manifests dramatically different symptoms depending on victims' blood types. But characterization is strong--the children emerge as fully as the teens--and narrator Dean keeps the pages turning. And there's no beating the ingenuity of the Greenway setting, where apparently everything these kids need is at their fingertips. Lord of the Flies this ain't, but it is a pretty decent adventure story, and readers will eagerly await the second volume. (Adventure. 13-16)

Product Details

Brilliance Audio
Publication date:
Monument 14 Series, #1
Edition description:
Sales rank:
Product dimensions:
5.40(w) x 6.50(h) x 0.60(d)
Age Range:
13 - 17 Years

Read an Excerpt

Monument 14

By Emmy Laybourne

Feiwel and Friends

Copyright © 2012 Emmy Laybourne
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-5524-9



Your mother hollers that you're going to miss the bus. She can see it coming down the street. You don't stop and hug her and tell her you love her. You don't thank her for being a good, kind, patient mother. Of course not — you hurdle down the stairs and make a run for the corner.

Only, if it's the last time you'll ever see your mother, you sort of start to wish you'd stopped and did those things. Maybe even missed the bus.

But the bus was barreling down our street so I ran.

* * *

As I raced down the driveway I heard my mom yell for my brother, Alex. His bus was coming down Park Trail Drive, right behind mine. His bus came at 7:09 on the dot. Mine was supposed to come at 6:57 but was almost always late, as if the driver agreed it wasn't fair to pick me up before 7:00.

Alex ran out behind me and our feet pounded the sidewalk in a dual sneaker-slap rhythm.

"Don't forget," he called. "We're going to the Salvation Army after school."

"Yeah, sure," I said.

My bus driver laid on the horn.

Sometimes we went over to rummage for old electronics after school. I used to drive him before the gas shortage. But now we took our bikes.

I used to drive him to school, too. But since the shortage everyone in our school, everyone, even the seniors, took the bus. It was the law, actually.

I vaulted up the bus steps.

Behind me I heard Mrs. Wooly, who has been driving the elementary–middle school bus since forever, thank Alex sarcastically for gracing them with his presence.

Mrs. Wooly, she was an institution in our town. A grizzled, wiry-haired, ashtray-scented, tough-talking institution. Notorious and totally devoted to bus driving, which you can't say about everyone.

On the other hand, the driver of my bus, the high school bus, was morbidly obese and entirely forgettable. Mr. Reed. The only thing he was known for was that he drank his morning coffee out of an old jelly jar.

Even though it was early in the route, Jake Simonsen, football hero and all-around champion of the popular, was already holding court in the back. Jake had moved to our school from Texas a year ago. He was a real big shot back in Texas, where football is king, and upon transfer to our school had retained and perhaps even increased his stature.

"I'm telling y'all — concessions!" Jake said. "At my old high school a bunch of girls sold pop and cookies and these baked potatoes they used to cook on a grill. Every game. They made, like, a million dollars."

"A million dollars?" Astrid said.

Astrid Heyman, champion diver on the swim team, scornful goddess, girl of my dreams.

"Even if I could make a million dollars, I wouldn't give up playing my own sport to be a booster for the football team," she said.

Jake flashed her one of his golden smiles.

"Not a booster, baby, an entrepreneur!"

Astrid punched Jake on the arm.

"Ow!" he complained, grinning. "God, you're strong. You should box."

"I have four younger brothers," she answered. "I do."

I hunkered down in my seat and tried to get my breath back. The backs of the forest green pleather seats were tall enough that if you slouched, you could sort of disappear for a moment.

I ducked down. I was hoping no one would comment on my sprint to catch the bus. Astrid hadn't noticed me get on the bus at all, which was both good and bad.

Behind me, Josie Miller and Trish Greenstein were going over plans for some kind of animal rights demonstration. They were kind of hippie-activists. I wouldn't really know them at all, except once in sixth grade I'd volunteered to go door to door with them campaigning for Cory Booker. We'd had a pretty fun time, actually, but now we didn't even say hi to each other.

I don't know why. High school seemed to do that to people.

The only person who acknowledged my arrival at all was Niko Mills. He leaned over and pointed to my shoe — like, "I'm too cool to talk" — he just points. And I looked down, and of course, it was untied. I tied it. Said thanks. But then I immediately put in my earbuds and focused on my minitab. I didn't have anything to say to Niko, and judging from his pointing at my shoe, he didn't have anything to say to me either.

From what I'd heard, Niko lived in a cabin with his grandfather, up in the foothills near Mount Herman, and they hunted for their own food and had no electricity and used wild mushrooms for toilet paper. That kind of thing. People called Niko "Brave Hunter Man," a nickname that fit him just right with his perfect posture, his thin, wiry frame, and his whole brown-skin-brown-eyes-brown-hair combo. He carried himself with that kind of stiff pride you get when no one will talk to you.

So I ignored Brave Hunter Man and tried to power up my minitab. It was dead and that was really weird because I'd just grabbed it off the charging plate before I left the house.

Then came this little tink, tink, tink sound. I took out my buds to hear better. The tinks were like rain, only metallic.

And the tinks turned to TINKS and the TINKS turned to Mr. Reed's screaming "Holy Christ!" And suddenly the roof of the bus started denting — BAM, BAM, BAM — and a cobweb crack spread over the windshield. With each BAM the windshield changed like a slide show, growing more and more white as the cracks shot through the surface.

I looked out the side window next to me.

Hail in all different sizes from little to that-can't-be-hail was pelting the street.

Cars swerved all over the road. Mr. Reed, always a lead foot, slammed on the gas instead of the brake, which is what the other cars seemed to be doing.

Our bus hurdled through an intersection, over the median, and into the parking lot of our local Greenway superstore. It was fairly deserted because it was maybe 7:15 by this point.

I turned around to look back in the bus toward Astrid, and everything went in slow motion and fast motion at the same time as our bus slid on the ice, swerving into a spin. We went faster and faster, and my stomach was in my mouth. My back was pressed to the window, like in some carnival ride, for maybe three seconds and then we hit a lamppost and there was a sick metallic shriek.

I grabbed on to the back of the seat in front of me but then I was jumbling through the air. Other kids went flying, too. There was no screaming, just grunts and impact sounds.

I flew sideways but hit, somehow, the roof of the bus. Then I understood that our bus had turned onto its side. It was screaming along the asphalt on its side. It shuddered to a stop.

The hail, which had merely been denting the hell out of our roof, started denting the hell out of us.

Now that the bus was on its side, hail was hammering down through the row of windows above us. Some of my classmates were getting clobbered by the hail and the window glass that was raining down.

I was lucky. A seat near me had come loose, and I pulled it over me. I had a little roof.

The rocks of ice were all different sizes. Some little round marbles and some big knotty lumps with gray parts and gravel stuck inside them.

There were screams and shouts as everyone scrambled to get under any loose seats or to stand up, pressed to the roof, which was now the wall.

It sounded as if we were caught in a riptide of stones and rocks, crashing over and over. It felt like someone was beating the seat I was under with a baseball bat.

I tilted my head down and looked out what was left of the windshield. Through the white spray outside I saw that the grammar school bus, Alex's bus, was somehow still going. Mrs. Wooly hadn't skidded or lost control like Mr. Reed.

Her bus was cutting through the parking lot, headed right for the main entrance to the Greenway.

Mrs. Wooly's going to drive right into the building, I thought. And I knew that she would get those kids out of the hail. And she did. She smashed the bus right through the glass doors of the Greenway.

Alex was safe, I thought. Good.

Then I heard this sad, whimpering sound. I edged forward and peered around the driver's seat. The front of the bus was caved in, from where it had hit the lamppost.

It was Mr. Reed making that sound. He was pinned behind the wheel and blood was spilling out of his head like milk out of a carton. Soon he stopped making that sound. But I couldn't think about that.

Instead, I was looking at the door to the bus, which was now facing the pavement. How will we get out? I was thinking. We can't get out. The windshield was all crunched up against the hood of the engine.

It was all a crumpled jam. We were trapped in the demolished sideways bus.

Josie Miller screamed. The rest of the kids had instinctively scrambled to get out of the hail but Josie was just sitting, wailing, getting pelted by the ice balls.

She was covered in blood, but not her own, I realized, because she was trying to pull on someone's arm from between two mangled seats and I remembered Trish had been sitting next to her. The arm was limp, like a noodle, and kept slipping down out of Josie's grip. Trish was definitely dead but Josie didn't seem to be getting it.

From a safe spot under an overturned seat, this jerk Brayden, who is always going on about his dad working at NORAD, took out his minitab and started trying to shoot a video of Josie screaming and grabbing at the slippery arm.

A monster hailstone hit Josie on the forehead and a big pink gash opened on her dark forehead. Blood started streaming down over her face.

I knew that the hail was going to kill Josie if she kept sitting there out in the open.

"Christ." Brayden cursed at his minitab. "Come on!"

I knew I should move. Help her. Move. Help.

But my body was not responding to my conscience.

Then Niko reached out and grabbed Josie by the legs and pulled her under a twisted seat. Just like that. He reached out and pulled her two legs toward him and brought her in to his body. He held her and she sobbed. They looked like a couple out of a horror film.

Somehow Niko's action had broken the spell. Kids were trying to get out and Astrid crawled to the front. She tried to kick through the windshield. She saw me on the ground, under my seat, and she shouted, "Help me!"

I just looked at her mouth. And her nose ring. And her lips moving and making words. I wanted to say, "No. We can't go out there. We have to stay where there is shelter." But I couldn't quite piece the words together.

She stood up and screamed to Jake and his people, "We've got to get into the store!"

Finally I croaked out, "We can't go out! The hail will kill us." But Astrid was at the back of the bus by then.

"Try the emergency exit!" someone shouted. At the back of the bus Jake was already pulling and pulling at the door, but he couldn't get it open. There was mayhem for a few minutes; I don't know how long. I started to feel very strange. Like my head was on a long balloon string, floating above everything.

And then I heard such a funny sound. It was the beep-beep-beep sound of a school bus backing up. It was crazy to hear it through the hammering hail and the screaming.

Beep-beep-beep, like we were at the parking lot on a field trip to Mesa Verde and the bus was backing up.

Beep-beep-beep, like everything was normal.

I squinted out, and sure enough, Mrs. Wooly was backing up the elementary–middle school bus toward us. It was listing to the right pretty bad and I could see where it was dented in the front from smashing into the store. But it was coming.

Black smoke started pouring in through the hole I was looking through. I coughed. The air was thick. Oily. My lungs felt like they were on fire.

I should go to sleep now was the thought that came into my head. It was a powerful thought and seemed perfectly logical: Now I should go to sleep.

The cries of the other kids got louder: "The bus is on fire!" "It's going to explode!" and "We're going to die!"

And I thought, They're right. Yes, we'll die. But it's okay. It's fine. It is as it should be. We are going to die.

I heard this clanking. The sound of metal on metal.

And "She's trying to open the door!"

And "Help us!"

I closed my eyes. I felt like I was floating down now, going underwater. Getting so sleepy warm. So comfortable.

And then this bright light opened up on me. And I saw how Mrs. Wooly had gotten the emergency door open. In her hands she held an ax.

And I heard her shout:

"Get in the godforsaken bus!"



I was sleepy was the thing. I saw the kids scramble back toward Mrs. Wooly. She helped them get down on all fours and scoot out the emergency door, which was sideways.

There was a lot of shouting and people helping one another over the battered seats and slipping on the hail on the floor, slipping because everything was sticky, now with the blood of the kids who had been crushed and Mr. Reed and maybe also motor oil or gasoline, maybe ... but, see, I was so warm and sleepy.

I was all the way up at the front of the bus, at the ground level, and the black smoke was encircling my head in these rich, ashy tendrils. Like arms from an octopus.

Niko came scrambling up the aisle, checking to see if anyone was left. As I was mostly under a seat, he didn't see me until he was just about to turn back.

I wanted to tell him I'd be fine. I was happy and comfortable and it was time for me to go to sleep. But it was so far to go, to get to those words and then pull them up to my throat and my lips and then form them. I was too far under.

Niko grabbed my two arms and started pulling.

"Help me!" he shouted. "Kick your legs!"

I tried to move my legs. They were so thick and heavy. It was like I had the legs of an elephant. Like someone had replaced my lower half with a big sack of lead.

Niko was gasping now, the smoke getting thicker and thicker. He grabbed my hair with one hand and smacked me across the face with his other hand.

"Push with your legs or you're gonna die," he shouted.

He smacked me across the face! I couldn't believe it. You see it on the tab but to have someone do it to you was just shocking.

So it worked, that smack. I came up from the sleepiness. I was up from down under. I was awake.

I pushed out from under the seat and stumbled up to my feet. Niko half dragged me through the hail, down the "aisle" that was not an aisle but was actually the space above the seats (because, remember, the bus was on its side).

The hail was still crashing and pounding through the windows. It seemed to have a gait now. Small hail, small hail, then a couple whoppers. Little, little, brutal.

I saw Niko take a big one to the shoulder, but he didn't even react.

Mrs. Wooly had the front door of her bus pulled right up to the back of ours. Niko pushed me through the emergency door. Mrs. Wooly hauled me up and pushed me up the steps of her bus.

Jake Simonsen then grabbed my arm and pulled me down the aisle and put me into a seat. Then I got dizzy and my vision got all sparky, and before I knew it, I threw up on Jake Simonsen. Football star. King of the beautiful. And the vomit was, I am not kidding you, black like tar. Oatmeal and tar.

"Sorry," I said, wiping my mouth.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Sit down."

Mrs. Wooly's bus was in much better shape than ours. There were giant dents in the ceiling. Her windshield looked nearly opaque, it was so crosshatched with cracks, and most of the back windows were broken from the hail flying in; but it was Air Force One compared to our bus.

Josie was slumped next to a window. Astrid was trying to stop the flow of blood from Josie's head. Brayden had his tablet out of his backpack and was trying to power up.

Niko started coughing up gunk up in the first seat.

And that was us.

There had been at least fifteen kids on the bus. Now it was Jake, Brayden, Niko, Astrid, Josie, and me.

Mrs. Wooly put the bus in gear and it lurched toward the Greenway.

The hail was changing now. Changing into a heavy, frozen rain. The quiet of the rain was so strong I felt it in my bones. A steady, heavy whoosh.

They say that your ears ring after you listen to something loud, like a rock concert. This was a continuous GONGONGONGONGONG. The quiet hurt as much as the hail.

I started coughing hard. Sort of a cross between coughing and vomiting. Black gunk, gray gunk, brown gunk. My nose was running. My eyes were pouring tears. I could tell my body was trying to get the smoke out of me.

Suddenly everything got orange and bright. The windows and the thin window frames stood out, illuminated against a silhouette of fire and ... BOOM, our old bus exploded.

Within seconds the entire behemoth was engulfed in flames.

"Well," Jake said. "That was close."

I laughed. That was funny, to me.

Niko just looked at me like I was crazy.

Brayden stood up and pointed out the window at the flaming wreckage that had once been our bus.

"Class A friggin' lawsuit, my friends," he said. "Right there."

"Sit down, Brayden," Jake said.

Brayden ignored him, and stood, counting us.

"The six of us," he continued. "We're suing the Board of Education! Where my dad works, they have plans for this kind of stuff. Emergency plans. There should have been a plan. A drill!"


Excerpted from Monument 14 by Emmy Laybourne. Copyright © 2012 Emmy Laybourne. Excerpted by permission of Feiwel and Friends.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

EMMY LAYBOURNE is a novelist, teacher, and former character actress. Emmy's Monument 14 trilogy has earned critical praise ("Frighteningly real… riveting" - New York Times Book Review, Editor's Choice) and has been nominated by readers to the YALSA Teens Top Ten in 2013 and 2014.Before her life as an author, Emmy performed original comedy on Comedy Central, MTV, and VH1; and acted in the movies Superstar, The In-Laws, and Nancy Drew, among others. Emmy lives outside New York City with her husband, two kids, and a flock of 8 nifty chickens.

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