Cover reveal time! Sources Say by Lori Goldstein is a funny, heartfelt novel about feuding exes running for class president and the scandal that makes the previously boring school election the newest trending hashtag.
We had some questions for Lori about the new book too. Scroll down to read her Q&A PLUS an excerpt!
- What inspired you to write about two exes competing against each other? (Not that we’re complaining. WE ARE HERE FOR THIS DRAMA!)
Lori: And drama there is! Neither Angeline or Leo have particularly altruistic reasons for running for student council president. The only thing that could make running for something you don’t really want worse is running against your very recent ex! It becomes a total power play, with each wanting to win less for the win itself and more to ensure the other one loses. I love the way this twists their motivations!
- If the badass ladies of Screen Queens were at a party with the crew of Sources Say, would they get a long? Hate each other? Be best friends??
Lori: Ooh, total clash of alpha personalities with SCREEN QUEENS’s Lucy and SOURCES SAY’s Angeline! But their intense ambition would bond them with Lucy likely becoming CEO of Angeline’s brand. If Lucy managed to drag her teammate Maddie to the party, SOURCES SAY’s Ravi would totally win her over with his humor and his love for his siblings as Maddie’s little brother is her whole world. As for SCREEN QUEENS’s Delia, she’d feel as out of place as SOURCES SAY’s Cat, which would bring the two of them together and give them the confidence to get out there and have some fun!
- What was your reaction to the cover?
Lori: 😍 Perfection, simply perfection. Capturing the essence of a book in its cover is soooo hard! But the eye-popping colors and bold, graphic look of SOURCES SAY perfectly embodies the feel of the novel in the same way that the illustrated cover of Lucy, Maddie, and Delia does with SCREEN QUEENS. The Razorbill team has serious game!
- In just three words, what can people expect from Sources Say? [You can say the three words and then explain why… a little cheeky!]
Lori: Fact! Fiction! Angel wings!
Is that technically four? Cat’s Red and Blue newspaper would say absolutely! But then there’s The Shrieking Violet . . . considering it’s reporting that Leo’s getting a Food Network chef to revamp the cafeteria’s menu and Angeline’s a succubus, well, let’s just say “facts” are a bit more fluid to this online rival to the newspaper Cat loves. When the line between fake news and real news blurs, the election begins to spin out of control, and it’s up to Angeline, Leo, and Cat to figure out how to stop it. Yes, partly, with angel wings. 😉
Scroll down to read the excerpt!
[Red and Blue newspaper]
Acedia Confronts Its Inner Sloth:
Controversy Surrounding Student Council Unprecedented in Charter School History
A Special Report
by Cathleen Quinn, senior and editor of Acedia Charter School’s The Red and Blue
Some say it started with the vegan bacon. Others claim it was the election of 1800. And some trace it all the way back to the dummy with an astounding likeness to Principal Schwartz perched in a lawn chair on the roof of the school. But everything that occurred during the student council election at Acedia Charter School started with a party.
“I was ripped, man,” Josh Baker, junior, said. “Three, four of those apple pie balls, and whoosh, see ya! Wait, you quoting this? Yeah, so, yeah, hundred percent, thought it was apple juice. Vodka? Shocking, man. Shocking. But I saw. They were there. Both of ’em.”
The “they” to whom Baker is referring are seniors Angeline Quinn—a popular lifestyle YouTuber—and Leo Torres—who’s been romantically linked to Angeline and whose mom regularly makes headlines as a vocal progressive candidate for Congress. The party at senior Maxine Chen’s was three weeks before school started.
“The house is up on the cliffs,” junior Natalie Goldberg said. “It has a hot tub and a screening room. You know, like, with seats that recline? Not old-people recline but movie-theater recline with cup holders and personalized popcorn tubs. Her parents are in tech. So, you know.”
Acedia Charter School has the distinction of being set upon land both rich in history—with a past of defending its shores against the invading British—and blazing with the future, thanks to its proximity to Boston with its elite schools of Harvard and MIT and influx of tech firms of the old guard—Amazon and Microsoft—and the new—BotBurgers (fast food cooked by robots) and BugBites (snacks made from ground-up crickets). Which means, Acedia Charter School, nestled along a picturesque coastline in a small town on the South Shore, has as many students with parents at the upper levels of income, like Maxine Chen’s, as it does below.
“I heard she did it for the cash,” junior Andreas Costa said.
“I think it was the dude running against Torres’s mom,” Baker said. “Bribed Angeline with stocks or some shit. But what the hell do I know? I was off my ass. Off . . . my . . . ass.”
While reports differ, one thing is certain. The fight that ended a three-year romance, sparked a political rivalry, and left Angeline Quinn in tears and Leo Torres with a busted shoulder happened in that screening room at Maxine’s party.
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BakedBaker24/7 2 hours ago
Dude look at me! I’m famous! Apple pie ball people: Available for all spokesman opportunities. DM me!
Like (thumbs up symbol) 45
SlothsArePeopleToo 3 hours ago
We . . . don’t . . . appreciate . . . (yawn) . . . the insul— . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Like (thumbs up symbol) 145
NatGberg 4 hours ago
I have nothing against old people. I swear. Some of my favorite grandparents are old.
Like (thumbs up symbol) 0
AskanAngel 5 hours ago
Look at those wings flutter.
Like (thumbs up symbol) 60
When Cat’s Buttons Are Pushed
30 Days to the Election
The assault on Cat’s nose was quick and painful.
“Manure,” she said, buckling herself into the passenger seat.
“I know.” Angeline sighed. “First day of school makes me want to curse too, though less like a farmer.”
“I mean the smell. In my car.”
“Gramps gave it to me last year.”
“With the intention of sharing it with me this year.”
Angeline finished the last over, under, over of her long braid and secured it with a black elastic, nearly the same color as her roots and Cat’s blunt bob. Twenty minutes it had taken Cat to flatten her light-socket cowlicks, and yet her sister perfected the black to brown to honey to gold ribbons of her ombre side braid while behind the wheel of the silver hatchback that had been their grandfather’s until the eye chart said otherwise.
Cat nuzzled into the familiar leather, slippery and smooth from wear. “Well, the car—”
“Our car.” Angeline turned the key, and the hatchback sputtered to life. She backed out of their apartment building’s assigned parking spot with the barest of glances in the rearview mirror. She’d had her license for all of five minutes, but already she was a more confident and skilled driver than Cat, who’d had her license for nearly a year.
“Fine.” Cat wrinkled her pale nose. “But it smells.”
“That unscented lotion you insist on using isn’t so much unscented as reeking of antiseptic. Seriously, Cat, a little mango-lime wouldn’t kill you.”
“It’s not me.” Cat swiveled her neck, spying first her sister’s tanned thighs peeking out of her dress-code-violating skirt and then something gold and shimmery on the floor of the back seat.
“Another one of your freebies?” Cat said. “Don’t tell me. It’s some lipstick—”
“Yoga pants or corset revival—”
Right. Cat reached behind the seat and picked up the gold bag. Another half-baked test product from some “women-empowering”—definition loosely applied—startup. The single demeaning word “better” was written in minuscule lowercase letters across the front and inside—
“My God!” Cat flinched at the stench. “I think I’m going blind.” She gingerly removed the gray cylindrical package, stamped with “bigger is better” in the same tiny font whose irony she’d bet had been lost on the perky female founders. “What is this?”
“Facial rejuvenator. Says it works best when heated naturally by the warmth of the sun.”
“So you’re leaving it in my car?”
“Which now smells like a rest stop on 95 during an August heat wave.”
“They added essential oils.” Angeline extended her long neck and sniffed. “Don’t you get the lavender?”
“No. The only essential I get is shi—”
“Night soil,” Angeline corrected.
Cat dropped the cylinder. “As in . . . ?”
“Waste matter. Recycled.”
“That you put on your face?” Cat rubbed her fingers on the side of her khaki cargo skirt—two inches below the knee, one more than required by the student handbook. “Please tell me it’s not human.”
Angeline rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
“Right. Of course. Obviously.” Cat tied the bag shut. She held it between two fingers and eyed the open window.
“Don’t even think about it,” Angeline said.
“Your funeral, which is a very real possibility if you use that.” Cat tossed the bag behind her seat and zipped open her backpack. She squirted half the container of hand sanitizer into her palm.
“It’s approved . . . ish,” Angeline said. “Elephant mostly, I think.”
Cat groaned as she smeared hand sanitizer on her nose. “Because ‘bigger is better.’ That’s disgusting. You really have no line.”