Welcome to the YA Scavenger Hunt! On this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from each author, you also get a clue for the hunt. Add up the clues, and you can enter for our prize--one lucky winner will receive one book from each author on the hunt in my team! But play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online for 120 hours!

Psst! I'm offering up an exclusive giveaway here and only here for 1 of 4 YA books from Swoon Reads! Check out the Rafflecopter giveaway at the bottom of this post!

 

Go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page to find out all about the hunt. There are SIX contests going on simultaneously, and you can enter one or all! I'm a part of the amazing BLUE TEAM--but there is also a red team, a gold team, a green team, a purple team, and a pink team. Each team is offering a chance to win a whole different set of books!

If you'd like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page.

 

SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE RULES:

 

Directions: Below, I've listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the blue team, and then add them up (don't worry, you can use a calculator!). 

 

Entry Form: Once you've added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize. *Only entries that have the correct number will qualify*.

Hint: My secret number is highlighted in BLUE!

 

Rules: Open internationally. Anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian's permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by Sunday, October 7th, at noon PST. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.

 

Now, onto the hunt and bonus content! For the fall 2018 YASH, I'm hosting author Emil Sher   

Emil writes books and plays for the young and the once-were-young. His debut novel for young readers, Young Man with Camera, was a 2015 Governor General’s Literary Award finalist and a 2016 Canadian Library Association Book of the Year for Children Award Honour Book.  His picture books include Away, beautifully illustrated by Qin Leng, and Mittens to Share, featuring sumptuous illustrations by Irene Luxbacher.  Many infants have chewed on his two board books, A Button Story and A Pebble Story.  Emil abridged Mona Golabek’s The Children of Willesden Lane for young readers. His stage plays include 

adaptations of Hana’s Suitcase by Karen Levine, Ian Brown’s The Boy in the Moon. Emil wrote the book and co-wrote the lyrics with composer Jonathan Monro for a musical theatre adaptation of Roch Carrier’s The Hockey Sweater. Emil is a laureate of the 2014 K.M. Hunter Artist Award in Literature.  

Find out more at www.emilsher.com or head over to check out Emil's published works! Order a copy of Young Man with Camera here!

Ready for some EXCLUSIVE CONTENT? Below is a deleted chapter from Young Man with Camera by Emil Sher:

Young Man with Camera

Deleted chapter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I took a picture of Lucy’s crate. Then I took Lucy’s crate to the cemetery. 

I strapped it to the back of my bike.  A lot of people use empty milk crates as bicycle baskets but I’m not a lot of people.  When I got to the cemetery I was glad to see it was nice and quiet.  The last thing I wanted was a whole bunch of weepers, dressed in black and bawling their eyes out while I looked for a spot for Lucy’s crate.

 

I found a place where there weren’t a lot of tombstones.  Lucy’s crate would be her tombstone.  Instead of writing her name I stuck a photograph on the crate.  It would be the only What the heck? tombstone in the cemetery.  I would do my homework sitting on Lucy’s tombstone and didn’t think she would mind.  Some days I would even talk to her, and Lucy would listen, which is a lot more than most people do. 

 

I sat on Lucy’s crate and looked at all the tombstones and wondered what happened to people like Lucy when they were found dead and there was no one around to buy them a coffin or a tombstone.  I bet no one knew Lucy’s last name or when she was born.  I wondered if there was a special cemetery for people who never gave their last names, or maybe even their first name, so that all a tombstone would say was Guy Who Used to Talk to Pigeons or Woman with Crazy Hair and Purple Lipstick or Man with No Chin.  Tombstones can never give you the whole story, so what’s the point?  Maybe everybody should be cremated.  Then no one would have to worry about what to write on a tombstone. 

Sometimes Sean and I talk about the worst ways to die.  You have to choose between two ways of dying.  We make it sound like choosing a favourite ice cream flavour.

 

Freeze to death in the North Pole or die of thirst?

Drown in the ocean or buried in an avalanche?

Attacked by a shark or a mauled by a bear?

 

None of the tombstones in the cemetery said a word about how the person died.  And it’s not like you have a choice.  Except if you’re someone like Diane Arbus, who killed herself. Then you get to choose. 

 

As I sat on Lucy’s crate and looked at all the tombstones I wasn’t worried about how I would die.  I was thinking about damage.  How Joined at the Hip wanted to damage me. Even though I had decided to burn the memory stick I knew that wouldn’t have been enough.  I was sure Joined at the Hip had other plans.    So was Sean.

 

They’re going to do some major damage, he said. He didn’t look at me when he said it. 

A millisecond later he felt bad for talking that way and said he would buy me a chocolate bar, as if a chocolate bar is this putty that can fill up the hole that grew every time I thought about what Joined at the Hip were planning.  I knew they were cooking up something.   And it’s not like I had a choice. It’s not like looking at a menu and saying I’ll have a knuckle sandwich and a noogie.  Besides, no one says knuckle sandwich except in old movies. Words can die too, but they don’t get buried or have tombstones.  No one says crippled anymore. You say physically challenged. Fireman isn’t dead but it’s pretty sick. Just ask a firefighter with braids. 

 

I don’t think there’ll ever be a funeral for retard. I’ll die before the word does.

I didn’t think Joined at the Hip were going to kill me.  Sean says they may have killed Lucy by accident if they killed her at all, and he said that was a big if (as if Ifs came in different sizes and this one was so big it was a special order If).  He said if it was an accident that would make it manslaughter, even though Lucy wasn’t a man and she wasn’t slaughtered.  Words like manslaughter should never have been born.  I’ve thought of what Joined at the Hip were unlikely to do, like tying me to a tree and covering me with honey and waiting until a swarm of bees sting the daylights out of me.  Or tar and feather me, which no one does anymore except in mystery books that Sean reads.  Sean said Joined at the Hip might try to poison me with enough poison to make me really sick. 

 

Never leave your lunch bag out of your sight.

I keep my lunch bag in my locker, where it’s safe.

Keep your eyes on your sandwich at all times. 

Sometimes, Sean sounds like a rules and regulations board.

 

This isn’t a park.

 

A man wearing dirty overalls stared at me.  Whenever people stare at me I give them a bit of extra time because I know it won’t be a normal stare.  They need about ten extra seconds to figure out my chin.  I could tell he worked at the cemetery because of the dirty overalls.  You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out.  That’s Sean’s way of saying something is super obvious.  I wondered if the man was a gravedigger.  Maybe his job was to take care of all the flowers. 

 

Take your crate and get the hell out of here.

 

I wanted to tell him This isn’t a crate, it’s a tombstone but he would have looked at me like I was crazy. 

You’re the crazy one, I unsaid. You think tombstones have to be made of stone and have words on them. 

The man looked at me. I could tell he didn’t care about the missing chin anymore.

Did you hear me?

I nodded.

Then take your crate and go.

I took the crate and went.  I would find a better place for Lucy’s tombstone.  I would make a cemetery where tombstones didn’t have to be made of stones. My cemetery would be filled with What the heck? tombstones. 

My cemetery would be a place where you could bury dead words, and words that deserve to be buried alive. 
My cemetery would be magnificent.

Don't forget to enter the YASH contest for a chance to win a ton of books by me, Emil Sher, and more! To enter, you need to know that my favorite number is 9. Add up all the favorite numbers of the authors on the blue team and you'll have all the secret code to enter for the grand prize!


Continue the hunt:

 

To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need to check out the next author! Head over to Gina Ciocca's website for more hunting fun!

 

 

 

ENTER TO WIN A SWOON READS YA PAPERBACK! 

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