Kaley can't wait to start at her new school with her best friend Jules. Jules was away in Europe all summer (worst summer of Kaley's life!) But it's cool, now school is starting and everything is going to be awesome. However as the school bus pulls up on that first day, Kaley barely recognizes the silky hair and glossy lips as Jules gets off with the cool kids and with their arch-nemesis Meg, the popular girl (God only knows why) who made Kaley and Jules's lives miserable in elementary school. In Europe, Meg had somehow won over Kaley's best friend and Kaley finds herself frozen out.
LIFE WAS COOL UNTIL YOU GOT POPULAR is a first person upper-middle-grade novel told through Kaley’s eyes, chronicling the initial pain and incomprehension of what happened to destroy their friendship. But that doesn't last long. Kaley decides that underneath the bleached blond clone with the personality transplant, Jules is still in there. Somewhere. And she is going to get her best friend back!
WHAT READERS SAY:
“Fans of the Confessions of Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison are sure to fall in love with Kaley: the funny, admirably loyal, and endearingly quirky heroine of Sarah Billington's debut novel. The dialogue is brilliantly funny, and the tension is high. Readers will not want to put this book down until the very last page. This debut novel by Australia's Louise Rennison, Sarah Billington, is sure to have readers cheering for its heroine and laughing out loud.”
Shevi Weaver, author of Ride of Your Life
SHORT STORIES
Life Was Easier When Boys Were Stupid
YOUNG ADULT CONTEMPORARY
Jess is at a party and girls and boys around her are locked together at the lips and hips. When did everyone grow up so fast? She's not sure she wants to, but her girl friend Carla points out a boy across the room with eyes only for Jess.
Life Was Easier When Boys Were Stupid won the Gippsland Award in 2009's Fellowship of Australian Writers Awards.
WHAT READERS SAY
“A fast, fun read that captures the insecurities and challenges that come with being a teenager. Billington has a strong, relatable voice--"I was just all out hideous. A great lump of hideousity."--and manages to add humor to a situation that might seem pretty daunting (but awfully familiar) to teen readers. For readers needing a quick pick-me-up, a chuckle, and reassurance that teens sometimes DO make good choices, LIFE WAS EASIER . . . will be a breath of fresh air.”
Erin Fry, author of LOSING IT coming in 2012 from Marshall Cavendish Children's Books.)
“An immensely readable story that shows the advantages of not always going along with the crowd! Important advice for many during the ages of peer pressure! A great read!”
KRLM
The Death & Life of Rocky the Crab
HUMOR
Lisa was supposed to be pet sitting. Looking after a crab is easy, right? Unless you forget to feed it. And then you find it dead minutes before its owner is back in town.
There's something a bit different about this dead crab though.
WHAT READERS SAY:
“The frenetic hunt is hilarious. And I love the irony of the ending.
Sarah Billington is a creative storyteller whose tales will put a smile on your face...and maybe give you pause before you agree to pet-sit anything!”
Gail Handler
The Ballerina & My Best Friend
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Everyone expected that one day Amanda and Tom would get married. But tomorrow is his wedding day, and Amanda is not the bride. Short and sweet, The Ballerina & My Best Friend is the perfect story for those that enjoy romance but have limited time to invest in it.
WHAT READERS SAY:
“A heartfelt contemporary adult short story with an unexpected ending that I'm still savouring. It's amazing to see Sarah Billington switch up genres and be such a versatile writer. I very much look forward to seeing more of her work and diversity!”
Shirley Marr, author of Fury and Preloved, Black Dog Books
LOOKING FOR SOMETHING A LITTLE DARKER?
Try books by Edwina Ray!
SHORT STORIES:
Guilty Until Proven Innocent
CRIME MYSTERY
In the small town of Carringwood, Doug and every other resident turn out to watch the drama as the Gabarski home burns down. Luckily Shana and the kids got out. And her husband Peter is mysteriously absent. Speculation runs rife through the town, why are arson investigators here? Did Peter do it? Why did he do it? But Doug wonders something else. If it wasn't Peter, who was it?
The Witch’s Curse
YOUNG ADULT SUPERNATURAL
In this new short supernatural thriller from Amazon Best Selling author Edwina Ray, when fifteen-year-old Alex is caught out in the secluded forest admiring the giant ancient tree set in a moss-covered clearing, she is sure Josh is pulling a prank on her.
Be careful of the witch's curse, he says. The tree has the power to kill you in the most horrible of ways.
Alex didn't believe him.
Maybe she should have.
I, Zombie
HORROR/BLACK COMEDY
I, Zombie can't wait to eat the little girl.
The old man looks like he'd be a bit tough and gristly, and the teenage boy keeps waving that bat around, but the little girl, so rosy cheeked, so tender. Her heart beating so fast. He can’t wait to hold it, hot and wet in his hands, then rip it apart with his teeth. But he isn't the only zombie to find them.
He's got a fight on his hands, but with who, was unexpected.
WHAT READERS SAY:
"Well done you. I write feature movies (horror, rom-com, sci-fi etc), have won 3 film awards, and thought every angle in the zombie genre had been explored. I was wrong, you have proven such in an original and hilarious way. To have the story run from the point of view of the zombie makes this a pleasure to read, and gives hope to the future of the horror genre. Keep doing what you do."
Vinnie Cleghorne
"This is dark and wonderfully creepy! I love your writing style, very clean, compelling and top notch"
Heather McCorkle
The Runaway
SUSPENSE THRILLER
Angela waits, hiding in the dark of a house, her satchel packed and ready, her bloody clothes discarded on the floor. If Luc doesn't arrive soon, she knows they'll find her.
The Runaway is a short story that will keep you guessing.
WHAT READERS SAY:
“VERY intriguing. This is an extremely short story but the writing is delightful and the tension is set up from beginning to end. It's the kind of psychological mind-f*** that leaves you wondering...”
Heather Marie Adkins, author of The Temple, Heaven Below and more
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarah Billington is an Australian writer and editor with publications in anthologies and literary journals, articles, interviews and reviews in small newspapers and has won and been highly commended in international competitions for her short stories and screenwriting. She likes to write stories with love, laughs, suspense and zombies. Sometimes all in the same story. She writes light-hearted works under Sarah Billington, and darker, scarier and more torturous stories under her pen name, Edwina Ray.
Connect with Sarah online!
Website & Online Store: http://www.SarahBillington.weebly.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/SarahBillington
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SarahBillingtonBooks
The Sarah Billington blog: http://www.sarahbillington.blogspot.com
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4079661.Sarah_Billington
Life Was Cool Until You Got Popular Sampler
Chapter One
I stood by the school gate at Cromwell Prep, feeling weird in the maroon and white uniform. Over the past two years at Malcolm MacGregor Middle I’d gotten used to blue, white and yellow. It’s not like I had a whole lot of school pride or would go and watch any of the team sports I wasn’t forced to, but blue, white and yellow sort of…I dunno, it became part of my identi
ty.
So even though all the other kids were wearing the same colors, I felt completely conspicuous in maroon and white. Especially with my stiff, scratchy jumper, pristine blazer and school dress practically down to my ankles. Mom said I’d grow into it, but really – what am I supposed to do in the meantime? When exactly does your body stop growing, anyway? I hope I have that growth spurt everyone talks about soon or else my school dress will be down to my ankles until I graduate. I saw Stefan Gregorio at the park last week and he sure seems to have made the most of the summer because he grew at least a foot. He’s kind of funny looking now though because his arms and legs are too long for his body. I hope that doesn’t happen to me. But I do hope I start growing soon.
Looking around, I watched my new schoolmates file through the gate, calling out to each other, squealing and hugging their girl and guy friends they hadn’t seen since last year. I tried to hide a grimace. We didn’t squeal and hug at my old school. We just looked at each other and said hey. Most of the time we smiled when we said it. Maybe that’s why it got closed down, we weren’t enthusiastic enough. We sure weren’t peppy.
I heard a screech and two girls ran at each other and nearly fell on their faces the collision was so hard. And it wasn’t just the little sixth graders doing it, but like, the older kids too. Or maybe they were sixth graders and they just looked older. For a split second I wished I was back in sixth grade because then I’d have that excuse for not knowing anyone. But no, I was just the new kid. I don’t think anyone else from MacGregor is coming to Cromwell. At least not from my year. Except Jules, of course. I hadn’t noticed anyone I knew yet. We were the last sixth graders to go to Malcolm McGregor. It’s getting bulldozed this year to make way for an old person’s home. I cringed as my ears were assaulted with another scream and two girls hurled themselves at each other, talking over the top of each other until they were shouting to be the loudest. Thank God Jules was coming. I just wished she’d hurry up and get here already.
I watched what had begun as two really pretty girls lingering over under the beech tree on the lawn beside the front entrance. As I watched, it was slowly becoming a model reunion special. Boys with the perfect summer tan and the latest hair walked over and hugged them, who were soon joined by girls wearing shiny leather school shoes with heels and school dresses the size of tennis dresses and then there were other boys with hair styled into just the right amount of bed head, their ties artily crooked and loose. But it wasn’t messy. It was the kind of messy you’d find on the cover of a magazine. Entirely purposeful. It looked that way to me, anyway.
I looked at them some more. Actually, it might not have been purposeful. It might have just been messy. I watched a line of girls enter the school and walk past the pretty people, glancing over before sharing excited smiles and then proceeded to giggle as soon as they entered the building. Hmm. Every school had one, and before the learning had even commenced, it appeared I’d happened upon the popular clique.
Half the eighth graders hadn’t even arrived, but this group, you could just tell. They had the look, I couldn’t work out exactly what it was though. I guess I gotta give the students here props though. I mean those kids oozed cool. Unlike the popular group at my old school who were led by Hunt Mitchell who’s proudest moment was burping the national anthem through assembly one time and Hilary Whistler who spent the start of elementary school terrorizing the boys with games of kiss-chasey before they finally gave in by the fifth grade and started letting her catch them just to get it over with and get back to their game of football already. Then she came back to school after summer last year with these boobs she’d never had before and from then on she always had a boyfriend, though she’d go with someone different each week.
I don’t think the boys she was going with always knew they were with her though. So yeah, just by the quality of the popular kids alone, Cromwell Prep was turning out to be a top notch school. No wonder Malcolm MacGregor closed down.
I watched out of the corner of my eye with envy, as two of the girls in that clique hugged as if they hadn’t seen each other in forever. My guess? It was probably last night. They jumped up and down in a girly hug and held hands as they spoke over the top of each other, praising the other on how pretty they looked. I wanted to do that. But instead, I stood by myself feeling like a loser loner with no friends. But that would all change in a matter of seconds, when Jules climbed off the bus and came running over to me and I too would be involved in a big, jumping up and down type girly hug, some squeals of excitement and lots of exclamations of how much we missed each other. And unlike them, I actually hadn’t seen her since the last day of school last year.
It was our first time apart – like seriously apart with her traipsing all over a whole other continent on a school trip Cromwell ran– so we most definitely had a big girly squeal, jump up and down, hugging and telling each other how pretty we looked reunion due. I’d probably feel weird about the ‘you’re so pretty’ part, but, not that I’d admit it, the jumping looked fun.
I perked up as I heard the roar of an engine that sounded a little more intense than the station wagons and people-movers that were dropping kids off, and soon the bus rounded the corner and stopped in front of the school with a weary sigh. The front and back doors opened and the bus vomited out students in a tidal wave of maroon and white. I searched every face for Jules – okay, not the boys’ faces, obviously – looking for her dirty blond waves (the family trademark) and probably a school dress down to her ankles like me. I didn’t find her. Wait – was that…no. Oh – yes, it was. Jules’s unruly curls that she’d never managed to tame were now a slick, glossy mane of platinum blond. Her school dress sat above her knee, the right amount of short and her sweater was sitting comfortably on her hips as if it had been professionally tailored just for her.
And since when had she worn make up? We’re talking the biggest tom boy on the planet, Jules was. Worse than me. And since when has her mom let her wear makeup?
She stepped off the bus in school shoes with heels on them, and was busy dabbing her pinkie into a pot of pink lip gloss, smearing it across her already super shiny lips. And did I mention she was wearing dangly earrings with colored glass beads that jiggled around when she moved and sparkled in the sunlight? She had bangles on one wrist and… was that a gold watch? Jules. Looked. Ridiculous.
I stood there with my mouth hanging open, watching as more students flooded the sidewalk and manoeuvred their way around me. I don’t remember dropping my back pack but at some point I did. Hard. On my foot.
Jules was mid-conversation with someone and paused on the curb, waiting for them to join her. Had it been possible for my jaw to drop any further, it would have. She laughed at something that was said, and tossed her hair. She smacked her re-glossed lips together and placed the pot in her blazer pocket. My eyes narrowed somewhat. I didn’t mean for them to.
‘You drop this?’
‘Huh?’ I blinked, a tall boy with a mop of scruffy hair held my back pack out to me. My tummy fluttered. He must have spent the summer growing, too. But unlike Stefan Gregorio, he looked just right.
I took the bag. ‘I guess. Thanks,’ I said.
He gave me a crooked smile and my heart nearly stopped. Yes, totally because he was completely adorable but also a little bit because he’d snapped me out of my “who on Earth is that girl, is it Jules? No it can’t be but I think it is” trance and now I was starting to feel the pain of my bag having collided with my tootsies. It was starting to throb, but I had more important things to think about.
We’d never really bothered with boys before, Jules and me. Not the boys we knew. They were rough and sweaty and thought it was hilarious to fart and throw things at you. In fact our opinion on the matter had been: Boys are stupid. End of sentence. But this boy was completely different to any of the boys I’d come across before. This was the sort of boy Jules and I would discuss in minute detail in the tree house in my backyard. Except this boy wasn’t in a
magazine. This was a real life lust-worthy boy! My stomach fluttered some more as I stood there looking at him. But it fluttered in a nice kind of way. Unlike my toes which throbbed in a bad kind of way.
‘No problem,’ he said, and with that he turned and ambled toward the building.
‘Travster!’ One of the boys from the model reunion called. Girls opened their arms to Mr. Tall and Scruffy and squealed. He dropped his bag on the grass and began an elaborate greeting ritual of air kisses, hugs and complicated high fives. My shoulders drooped. He was one of them. Of course he was. I turned back to Jules.
The person she was waiting for had gotten off the bus, and I realized with horror that Jules had to be an alien clone. There was no other explanation for it. Because there was no way that the real Jules would laugh and joke and enjoy the company of the finest playground bully there ever was, our sworn enemy, Meg freaking Colton. Of all the people from Malcolm MacGregor Middle School I would have been glad to be rid of forever, it was her. Absolutely her. How did I not know that she of all people was coming to the same school as me again? I’d suffered through elementary school with her and it killed me when she showed up on the first day of sixth grade at MacGregor as well, but this? She got into Cromwell too? A couple of the pretty people called out to Meg. One girl skipped over to her and Jules, her high heels clickity clacking on the pavement, and the girl opened her arms with yet another squeal. To Meg. She opened her arms to Meg and hugged her.
I take it back. I take it all back. No props to Cromwell. The props have been revoked. For if they actually like Meg (gag), then they must all be clinically insane and I’d in fact been transferred to a mental institution. You see, We hate Meg. Jules and me. We always have. I actually remember the day we decided that we would hate her forever.
It was first grade and she already had a posse of girls that followed her around and laughed at people when she told them to, and said ‘Yeah’ whenever she said something mean (so they said ‘Yeah’ a lot). There are tons of movies with girls just like them. Must be where they learned it from.
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