Meg

CHAPTER ONE Key West, Florida Fifteen-year-old Finch Delaney stood frozen in the door of a murky Key West bar, her mother’s voice in her mind, admonishing her for lurking alone in dark corners. But her mother was dead, and Finch really needed to work up the courage to step inside. Three hours ago, as she walked home from school, she couldn’t have imagined saying this. But she needed her brother’s help. She’d spent two hours tracking him down, and finally—here he was, only thirty feet away. Belting out a sea shanty on a rickety wooden stage, waving a pint glass around, little drops of lager adding to the pub’s preexisting layers of grime. Finch could smell the room from here: musty, sour, fermented. The humid bar air stuck to her skin like taffy, a cloud of evaporating perspiration from the rabble of sweaty drunk men inside. “Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high,” sang Les, blustery and cocky as ever. “Leave her, Johnny, leave her,” the men at the bar sang plaintively in response. They were almost all men. Finch spotted one butch lady in the corner, who simultaneously annoyed Finch with her audacity and inspired Finch to be a little more like… that. But instead, Finch shirked into the wooden door frame. She’d wait for Les to finish the song and exit the stage, so there wouldn’t be a literal spotlight on them when she darted inside and grabbed him, like the quiet little gremlin she was. But then Les spotted her. Onstage, he jolted, beer spraying like fireworks. His face lit up like he hadn’t even considered that his little sister lurking in a bar uninvited could be a sign of a problem. He put his pint glass down on the stage and pointed to her, framed in the doorway. Every burly man at the bar seemed to turn around in unison to look at her. She felt overwhelmingly dizzy and grabbed the door to stabilize herself. “Hey, that’s my sister!” shouted Les, slurring a little. “Get that kid in here to do the clapping bit of ‘Wild Rover.’ She’s known it since she was three.” Finch shook her head furiously. “Kids can’t come in bars, Delaney,” someone shouted at him from a bar stool. “Oh, sure she can,” said Les, who darted over to Finch and was now tugging her on stage. Finch dug her heels in as he pulled her towards the stage and hissed, “Les, stop. Les, I hate the clapping bit. Les!” “You love clapping, Finchy!” said Les. “I had a phase when I was a toddler, yes,” said Finch. She tried to jump off the little stage but he grabbed her arm again. She tried to meet his eyes, but they were frenetic. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” But Les’s beer had clearly given him selective hearing. He took a deep breath, about to launch into another song, when the bartender looked up, noticed what was happening, and banged his fist on the wooden bar top. “OUT,” he shouted. “Just let her do the damn clapping, you salty cretin,” slurred Les. Finch locked eyes with the bartender and shook her head. He nodded at her subtly. “Out, Captain. Or you don’t lead shanties for two weeks.” Les held his hands up in a truce posture. “Okay, okay. We’re going,” he said, dragging his feet disagreeably off the stage. She followed him, averting her gaze from the crowd. She presumed she was the only one who heard him add, “You soggy bilge rat,” in the direction of the bartender. Les downed the rest of his pint and slammed the glass down a smidgen too hard on the bar top and then saluted the room. Finch followed him to the door as quickly as she could manage it. They both stepped out into the humid evening, pausing on the sidewalk below a streetlamp. Tipsy Les immediately launched into another rant. He’d always had strong opinions. “I mean, c’mon. There’s the letter of the law and then there’s the spirit of—” “—Connie’s gone.” Finch struggled to say it loudly enough to cut off his impassioned diatribe. He froze and scrutinized her face under the streetlight. Clearly caught off guard, he stumbled over his words for a moment. Something almost unprecedented for Les. “Connie?” he stuttered. “My guardian. Connie,” said Finch. She could hear the hurt in her voice when she said the word ‘guardian,’ and she knew he could hear it, too. She hated that he could hear it. But she couldn’t avoid the truth: that he’d left her to live with a stranger so he’d be free to… what? Sing the ‘Wild Rover’ at a Schooner Bum bar in the rare moments he wasn’t out to sea? “What do you mean she’s gone?” asked Les. He ran his fingers through his hair. His brow wrinkled with fleeting worry. Probably as he anticipated what this situation might require of him. Nothing stressed Les out more than even the slightest assault on his personal freedom. To his ability to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Finch’s stomach tightened in a knot. She needed to convince him there was a real problem here, but she was afraid she’d be dismissed like she usually was. By everyone. She’d just stick to the facts. She took a deep breath. “I came home from school. Connie wasn’t there. There was no note. I made myself dinner. I read a history chapter. She’s still not there,” said Finch as if reciting a grocery list. “I’ve spent all night looking for you.” She paused. She didn’t know why she said the next part, but it spilled out of her mouth nonetheless. Maybe to remind him that she was, technically, a child. A child who needed help. “And now it’s late. It’s eleven. And it’s a school night.” “How did you find me?” asked Les, clearly still more preoccupied with the obstacle between him and a night of shenanigans than the fact that his sister was alone. Again. “I looked up things to do in Key West tonight on the internet. This event was called Mari-aoke. Maritime Karaoke.” She paused. “There’s literally nowhere else on the planet you were more likely to be.” Les chuckled, clearly a little impressed. He raised his eyebrows once—a quick up and down—to signal his concession. “That’s pretty good, Nancy Drew,” he said, his relaxed, swaying torso a stark contrast to Finch’s raised shoulders and balled fists. “Back to the Case of the Missing Foster Mom.” Finch’s face flushed with hot anger. She knew he would do this. Write her off. Chalk it all up to her trauma, her grief, her— “I know you’ve been anxious about people leaving you, Finchy,” Les said. “But I think your guardian probably just has a life outside of you. Maybe she forgot to tell you about bingo night or the bowling league. Or maybe she had one too many martinis with Susan and Delores.” Finch clenched her jaw. Les was trying to call her self-centered now? “You’re just making up old lady names,” said Finch, teeth gritted. “There is no Susan or Delores. And Connie would have told me about bingo night or the bowling league. She probably would have brought me.” Finch’s eyes pricked with tears. She found it both absurd and harrowing that Les was the only person she could turn to. How quickly things could change. “You get my point, though?” asked Les. His strained tone betrayed his eagerness to be released back into the wild. Into the giant playground of a world he loved to frolic around, unencumbered. “If I walk you home now, she’ll probably be crocheting on the couch with Delores, wondering where the hell you went.” Finch knew she couldn’t convince him tonight. But she just desperately, deeply, did not want to handle this alone. She’d handled so many things alone already in the last year. She took a deep breath, praying he wouldn’t hear the tearful waver when she spoke. “Can you just… can you stay with me tonight? Please?” He stood on one foot to scratch his left ankle with the toes of his right sneaker. He didn’t look at her. To his shoes, he said, “Look. I’ll start by walking you home and we’ll assess the situation. Besides, I want to meet this damn Delores I’ve been hearing so much about.” He started off down the sidewalk, Finch scampering along behind him. “Stop it with Delores,” mumbled Finch. He still thought this was a big game. The Little Orphaned Sister game. Sometimes you had to tuck in the little orphaned sister and say there, there and humor the monsters she imagined in the shadows. But Finch knew she wasn’t the sort to need pandering. She’d survived more in a year than most people could in a lifetime. She knew Connie wouldn’t be there when they got home. And Finch was pretty sure it was because something terrible had happened.

Seven Short Assignments Assignment 1: The Act of Story Statement After her beloved foster mother is kidnapped by a drug cartel, fifteen-year-old Finch Delaney must work with her estranged older brother to track down her whereabouts and prevent abandonment and loss yet again. Assignment 2: The Antagonist Plots the Point Stephen Purnell was once a staunch gun lobbyist living a peaceful life in Key West with his family. Framed for a crime by an aggrieved victim of gun violence, Stephen's brief incarceration became the crucible for a dark transformation. Although exonerated, the scars of his imprisonment and a deep-seated anger toward the flawed justice system drive him into the arms of the Aryan Brotherhood, a terrifying prison gang. Once freed from prison, he established Lethal Strike, a drug trafficking gang wielding power through fear, marked by their Nazi-inspired insignia and brutal signature of leaving victims with lightning bolt burn marks. Now in control of Key West's drug monopoly and an arm of the Aryan Brotherhood, Stephen's life takes another sinister turn due to a seemingly innocent prank by his daughter and her friend. Their playful swap of phone contacts inadvertently exposes his criminal underworld to an unsuspecting local artist. Faced with the potential unraveling of his empire, Stephen is propelled into a desperate act to protect his secret. Assignment 3: Create a Breakout Title Channel Fever Kid Boots Ships in the Night Coffin Varnish Assignment 4: Deciding Your Genre and Choosing Comparables Mother-Daughter Murder Night (Nina Simon) meets The War Widow (Tara Moss) The Kingdoms of Savannah (by George Dawes Green) Where'd You Go, Bernadette? (Maria Semple) Assignment 5: The Hook Line When an orphaned teenager comes home from school to find her foster mom missing, the only person she can turn to for help is her fly-by-night older brother who refused to be her guardian. Assignment 6: Two More Levels of Conflict Protagonist’s inner struggle: Finch, a sensitive and precious 15-year-old girl, has experienced a series of misfortunes that caused her to be abandoned multiple times by those she loves. While the circumstances were different each time (her mother’s death, her brother’s decision that he was not equipped to be her guardian, and now her foster mother’s mysterious disappearance), Finch believes that if she has been left behind so many times, it must be her unworthiness and unloveableness causing it. Hypothetical scenario: Throughout the novel’s progression, Finch knows that her older brother, Les, must return to his seafaring job after two weeks are up. She counts down the days and hopes that Les might choose to stay on land this time instead of abandoning her once again and returning to sea. However, Finch cannot bring herself to believe that Les would stay because of her and instead latches onto the idea that if she gets lucky, Les might stay because of the new woman he’s been flirting with. Secondary conflict: Finch’s older brother, Les, had a markedly different upbringing than Finch due to their 10-year age gap. Although Finch barely remembers their father, who had been a history professor for the U.S. Navy, he was a formative influence on Les and taught him to embrace a life of adventure, freedom, and self-determination. For these reasons, Les is hesitant to become Finch’s guardian and give up his free-roaming, seafaring lifestyle. Finch does not understand this drive to the sea, and she lashes out at his unwillingness to stay nearby and create a life with her. Hypothetical conflict: When Les decides to return to sea at the end of two weeks, Finch interprets the decision as a personal attack and decides to seek revenge. She stows away on his sailing school brigantine and, hidden, goes out to sea undetected just to prove a point and ruin his plans. Assignment 7: Setting The story takes place in subtropical Key West, Florida. There are several different facets to the setting that I believe have verve and energy and which I’m currently developing further. Old Town Key West is a vibrant, walkable corridor with brightly-colored wooden buildings of Caribbean influence, tidy front porches, and shuttered windows. As part of their investigation, my characters have to explore several iconic Key West destinations. They take a raucous Prohibition-era booze cruise from Sunset Square (with its fire jugglers and leaping cats) to the Dry Tortugas, an isolated National Park off the coast. During a ghost tour, they throw a coin in the famous gaping fish mouth adorning Captain Tony’s Saloon, learn about the history of the hanging tree growing up through the floor, and see Robert the Haunted Doll at East Martello Tower. Simultaneously, my characters are forced to explore Key West one layer deeper (and one layer more subterranean) as they uncover a labyrinth of tunnels beneath Old Town. By visiting historic destinations such as the Gato Cigar Factory and the LaTeDa Hotel where Jose Marti gave a famous speech, they discover that the tunnels began as a place to hide weapons during the Cuban Independence Movement. In the LaTeDa, they see a portrait of a famous Key West Rabbi and begin to learn of the (real) historical alliance between the Cuban and Jewish populations of Key West. As they trace the tunnels through time, they realize that the same key historical players who were hiding arms during the Cuban Independence Movement went on to use the tunnels to smuggle alcohol during Prohibition. Even later, many of the same people—in the same tunnels—went on to help European Jews sneak into the United States during World War II, using a citizenship loophole that was less restrictive if immigrants came from Cuba rather than Europe. The same boats used for rum running and arms smuggling became a method of safely delivering refugees to Key West. Unfortunately, all of this action played out under the threatening gaze of the Klan, which was powerful in Key West in the 1920s and 1930s. In parallel, my characters, who are attempting to save a local artist and Finch’s guardian from the clutches of a white supremacist drug smuggling ring must rely on the secret documents they’ve found from the days of World War II humanitarian smuggling to get the upper hand on the bad guys, who are predominantly relying on old intel from the Klan. All parties sneak around the mildewy, low-ceilinged, brick-lined tunnels below Old Town in a cat-and-mouse chase below Key West. Finally, much of the story takes place in Finch’s guardian's bungalow in Key West. The bungalow is a vibrant little place because Connie is a quirky character who has left her unique mark on the house. Obsessed with sea urchins, Connie has metal urchin bookends, colorful, blown-glass urchin lamps, and even succulents potted in dried urchins. As a working-class artist, the house is stuck in the 1970s with its burnt-orange shag carpet and claustrophobic hallways. However, Connie has left her mark of love on every inch of it, adorning it with homemade paintings and hand-written notes she’d left for Finch.