First Lines Fridays is a weekly feature for book lovers hosted by Wandering Words. What if instead of judging a book by its cover, its author or its prestige, we judged it by its opening lines?
- Pick a book off your shelf (it could be your current read or on your TBR) and open to the first page
- Copy the first few lines, but don’t give anything else about the book away just yet – you need to hook the reader first
- Finally… reveal the book
It’s at Amber Brunati’s annual Pink Party that everything begins to unravel.
The invitation—on thick pink paper, naturally, with gold and turquoise swirls—had declared it to be the last great luncheon of the summer. As if my summer had been packed to bursting with a whole host of other themed luncheons instead of babysitting jobs and shifts at Pinky’s Sub Shop. It also implied that there had been a number of mediocre luncheons this summer, as this was meant to be the last of the great ones.
I stare around Amber’s backyard at clustered tables covered in pink gingham cloths and at the girls around said tables. We’re all wearing pink except for Iris Huang, who had the nerve to arrive in lavender (Amber’s angry whispers carried clear across the lawn), and Kaitlyn Winthrop, who is technically wearing magenta. This seems to incense Amber even more, because while we all know that Iris’s dress is a big official eff you to the entire Pink Party construct, Kaitlyn doesn’t seem to realize that she’s committed a faux pas.
“Someone get that girl a color wheel,” Amber hisses angrily to Madison Lutz, sitting to my left. “Someone get her a fucking Pantone booklet because magenta is not pink. We all know magenta is not pink, right?” She looks to me. “Right?”
And The Book Is..