TEASER TUESDAY

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by

http://shouldbereading.wordpress.com/

of Should Be Reading.

Anyone can play along!

Just do the following

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) "teaser" sentences from somewhere on that page

BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE ANY SPOILERS!

(make sure that what you share doesn't give too much away!

You don't want to ruin the book for others!

• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

THIS WEEK I HAVE CHOSEN 

“PURE"

BY

JULIANNA BAGGOTT

BLURB:

We know you are here, our brothers and sisters . . . 
Pressia barely remembers the Detonations or much about life during the Before. In her sleeping cabinet behind the rubble of an old barbershop where she lives with her grandfather, she thinks about what is lost-how the world went from amusement parks, movie theaters, birthday parties, fathers and mothers . . . to ash and dust, scars, permanent burns, and fused, damaged bodies. And now, at an age when everyone is required to turn themselves over to the militia to either be trained as a soldier or, if they are too damaged and weak, to be used as live targets, Pressia can no longer pretend to be small. Pressia is on the run.


Burn a Pure and Breathe the Ash . . . 
There are those who escaped the apocalypse unmarked. Pures. They are tucked safely inside the Dome that protects their healthy, superior bodies. Yet Partridge, whose father is one of the most influential men in the Dome, feels isolated and lonely. Different. He thinks about loss-maybe just because his family is broken; his father is emotionally distant; his brother killed himself; and his mother never made it inside their shelter. Or maybe it's his claustrophobia: his feeling that this Dome has become a swaddling of intensely rigid order. So when a slipped phrase suggests his mother might still be alive, Partridge risks his life to leave the Dome to find her. 


When Pressia meets Partridge, their worlds shatter all over again.

HERES MY TEASER:


She sees a group of kids, not too much younger than she is.
Two of the – twins both with mangled, rusty legs exposed a bit below their skirts – are swinging a rope for a third with one whittled arm who hops between them. They chant:


Burn a Pure and breathe the ash.

Take his guts and make a sash.

Twist his hair and make a rope.

And use his bones to make Pure soap.

Washy, washy, washy. One two three.

Washy, washy, washy. Pure is me.