Not Pretty Enough
by Jaimie Admans
Publication Date: Aug 2013
Contemporary YA Comedy
“New Year’s Resolutions:
1. Lloyd Layton will know I exist. He once said three whole words to me, so this is obviously progress. If I don’t get a proper conversation out of him soon, then I’ll take my top off and streak through the cafeteria, because nobody could fail to notice these boobs.
2. I will not get expelled for streaking through the cafeteria.”
Those are the words that begin her mission.
Chessie is fourteen, not pretty enough, and very much in love. Lloyd Layton is hot, popular, and unaware of Chessie’s existence.
Her goal is clear: to get Lloyd to love her as much as she loves him, and she has exactly one year to do it.
As Chessie’s obsession with Lloyd reaches boiling point and she starts to spin a web of lies that spiral out of control, Lloyd turns out to be not quite the prince she thought he was. Can Chessie avoid the gathering storm before things go too far?
-- -- -- -- --
Not Pretty Enough is a contemporary young adult comedy suitable for ages thirteen and over.
Book two in the series will be released early 2014.
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Excerpt from Not Pretty Enough:
I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on Lloyd Layton. It was during a school assembly in June last year. He was sitting in the main hall, a row in front of me as we all sat in lines, gathered for a mind-numbingly boring lecture from the principal.
I noticed Lloyd because he was talking to Ewan. Ewan and I have been friends forever. I’ve known him, literally, since nursery school. Our mums are really good friends. My dad died when I was seven and Ewan’s mum came to stay with us for a few days to help my mum get over the shock.
Here in Wales, at Bach Afon Comprehensive School at least, each form is made up of a few kids from each primary school in the area, and known by the year and an alphabet letter. We’re in 9B. Lloyd is in 9C.
Debs, Ewan and I are the ones from our primary school in our form. We’ve all known each other for years, and so we’re good friends and usually stick together unless Ewan decides to be all macho at lunchtime and hang around with a gang of boys instead. His own friends from primary school are in different forms so he only sees them in the yard or if they’re in the same set for lessons. We’re divided into sets depending on our exam results from the previous year. Set One are pupils who got over sixty percent, Set Two are those who got thirty to sixty percent, and Set Three are the ones who got under thirty percent.
Anyway, this huge tall guy was talking to Ewan a row in front of me. He had to be new because I’d never seen him before, and at that size, he wasn’t exactly someone you could miss. At first glance I thought he was a year eleven, but there was no way any year eleven would let themselves be seen dead talking to a year eight, so he had to have been thirteen like the rest of us.
“Who was that?” I hissed at Ewan when he crawled back into our line.
“Lloyd Layton. He just joined 8C. He’s friends with Darren.”
Darren was Ewan’s best friend from primary school, the one who wasn’t in our form.
“He’s huge,” Debs said on the other side of me.
We didn’t see how tall he actually was until we all stood up to leave. Holy cow. I’d always thought I was quite tall. At five foot five, my growth spurt had come when I was much too young for it, and I was now one of the tallest girls in our class, and taller than most of the boys. But this new boy, Lloyd, was much taller than me, and by the looks of it, taller than most of the teachers too. He was at least six foot something. Our maths teacher is six foot three, and Lloyd looked at least that size, if not more. At thirteen, in amongst a lot of five foot nothing teenagers, you couldn’t help but notice him. He stuck out like a sore thumb.
That was six months ago. Since then we’d all moved on to year nine, up to fourteen-years-old, and I’d spent the best part of a year salivating over that tall guy.
Lloyd ended up in my set for most classes. This is fortunate or unfortunate for me, depending on how many times I embarrass myself in class. I never plucked up the courage to speak to him, but he must’ve been super intelligent. He never seemed to struggle with the work like I did. I had managed to get myself put in Set One for most classes but I didn’t belong there. People like Ewan belonged there, people who had aced all their exams with a ninety-eight percent score. Not people like me who had scraped sixty or sixty-one percent and got put into Set One because technically it was over sixty percent. Set One was for clever people. Not people who wanted to spend all their time daydreaming and chatting to Debs when the teacher wasn’t looking.
I noticed Lloyd because he was talking to Ewan. Ewan and I have been friends forever. I’ve known him, literally, since nursery school. Our mums are really good friends. My dad died when I was seven and Ewan’s mum came to stay with us for a few days to help my mum get over the shock.
Here in Wales, at Bach Afon Comprehensive School at least, each form is made up of a few kids from each primary school in the area, and known by the year and an alphabet letter. We’re in 9B. Lloyd is in 9C.
Debs, Ewan and I are the ones from our primary school in our form. We’ve all known each other for years, and so we’re good friends and usually stick together unless Ewan decides to be all macho at lunchtime and hang around with a gang of boys instead. His own friends from primary school are in different forms so he only sees them in the yard or if they’re in the same set for lessons. We’re divided into sets depending on our exam results from the previous year. Set One are pupils who got over sixty percent, Set Two are those who got thirty to sixty percent, and Set Three are the ones who got under thirty percent.
Anyway, this huge tall guy was talking to Ewan a row in front of me. He had to be new because I’d never seen him before, and at that size, he wasn’t exactly someone you could miss. At first glance I thought he was a year eleven, but there was no way any year eleven would let themselves be seen dead talking to a year eight, so he had to have been thirteen like the rest of us.
“Who was that?” I hissed at Ewan when he crawled back into our line.
“Lloyd Layton. He just joined 8C. He’s friends with Darren.”
Darren was Ewan’s best friend from primary school, the one who wasn’t in our form.
“He’s huge,” Debs said on the other side of me.
We didn’t see how tall he actually was until we all stood up to leave. Holy cow. I’d always thought I was quite tall. At five foot five, my growth spurt had come when I was much too young for it, and I was now one of the tallest girls in our class, and taller than most of the boys. But this new boy, Lloyd, was much taller than me, and by the looks of it, taller than most of the teachers too. He was at least six foot something. Our maths teacher is six foot three, and Lloyd looked at least that size, if not more. At thirteen, in amongst a lot of five foot nothing teenagers, you couldn’t help but notice him. He stuck out like a sore thumb.
That was six months ago. Since then we’d all moved on to year nine, up to fourteen-years-old, and I’d spent the best part of a year salivating over that tall guy.
Lloyd ended up in my set for most classes. This is fortunate or unfortunate for me, depending on how many times I embarrass myself in class. I never plucked up the courage to speak to him, but he must’ve been super intelligent. He never seemed to struggle with the work like I did. I had managed to get myself put in Set One for most classes but I didn’t belong there. People like Ewan belonged there, people who had aced all their exams with a ninety-eight percent score. Not people like me who had scraped sixty or sixty-one percent and got put into Set One because technically it was over sixty percent. Set One was for clever people. Not people who wanted to spend all their time daydreaming and chatting to Debs when the teacher wasn’t looking.
About the author: Jaimie is a 28-year-old English-sounding Welsh girl with an awkward-to-spell name. She lives in South Wales and enjoys writing, gardening, drinking tea and watching horror movies. She hates spiders and cheese & onion crisps. She has been writing for years but has never before plucked up the courage to tell people. Afterlife Academy is her third novel and she hopes you enjoy it. There are plenty more on the way!
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