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
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Mom hangs out of the passenger window and wraps me in a fierce hug for the tenth time in the last ten minutes. The pleading tone in her voice is doing its job. I’m an inch away from the first bit of freedom I’ve ever known, yet I’m only seconds from caving and jumping into the backseat. I hug her back, tighter than usual. Dad leans forward, his face washed in the soft blue light from the dash. “Sophie, we really hate leaving you here for Christmas. Who’s going to make sure I get those fork marks in the peanut butter cookies just right? Not sure if I can be trusted to do it alone.” I laugh and duck my head. “I’m sure,” I say. And I am. This saying good-bye part is hard, but there’s no way I can suffer through the next week and a half at Margot’s house staring at bloated appendages. My parents are driving to Breaux Bridge, a small town in south Louisiana a little less than four hours away, to be with my sister and her husband. Margot is six weeks away from having her first baby, and she’s developed superimposed preeclampsia, whatever that means. All I know is that it’s made her feet swell to ridiculous sizes. And I know this because Margot is so bored out of her mind while she’s been stuck in her bed that she’s sent me pics of them from every conceivable angle.
And The Book Is…