CAGI Finalist #36

Title: CAN'T BUY ME LOVE

Genre: Upper Middle Grade

Word Count: 54,000

Query:

Thirteen-year-old Marnie Mercer thinks middle school would be perfect if she

could just address a few critical issues. The lack of cell phone thing, for

one. Her yawn-inducing social status, for another. And would it be too much

to ask for a first kiss to knock her (discount store) shoes off? But when

she inherits a fortune from an unknown great-aunt, she discovers a brand new

set of complications.

Now, her best friend is convinced money corrupts, her parents need a loan,

and a group of popular girls offer Marnie access to the top of the social

pyramid, but first she'll have to complete their zany pledging checklist.

Soon she's sneaking locks of her principal's hair, stealing her teacher's

beloved laser pointer, and throwing a sure-to-get-her-grounded-for-LIFE

party.

To make matters worse, she's finally met a guy worth his weight in gold only

he might not be so interested if he finds out how many commas separate their

allowances. Marnie needs to find a way to manage her money and her life

while staying true to herself. Otherwise, she can say goodbye to her best

friend's respect, her parents' trust, and any chance of getting her first

kiss from a boy who makes her feel priceless.

Life as a teenage heiress is one mixed bag of crazy.

First 250:

Is it totally wrong to be jealous of someone else's coffin? I mean, it's not

like I have a death wish or anything but my great-aunt's casket is seriously

blinged out. It has actual diamonds in the handles. When my time's up, I

definitely wouldn¹t mind flaming out movie-star-style, like Aunt Glinda.

Maybe if I'd ever laid eyes on her (or at least the casket I assume she's

inside) even once in the last thirteen years, I might be a little more into

paying my respects instead of calculating carats, but until two days ago, I

didn¹t even know I had an Aunt Glinda.

"Marnie, please move it along," hisses Mom, under her breath.

Whoops! I realize I've been standing over Aunt Glinda's casket for like two

whole minutes and there's a line of people backed up behind me.

"Sorry," I whisper and speed walk back to our pew.

It's a little difficult to get worked up for a stranger-relative, but from

all the nice things everyone is saying about Aunt Glinda, she sounds like

she was pretty cool. And RICH! Same with her friends. The ruby ring on the

lady next to me is practically blinding, especially when it catches the

sunlight coming in through the stained glass windows.  There are beams of

color flying all over the place, like when Mr. Martin goes crazy with his

laser pointer in history class. He so doesn't get that pointing a red dot at

Abe Lincoln's nostril does not make the Civil War more interesting.