Tessa can’t sleep.
But when your parents are dead and the government directs your path in life, sleep shouldn’t come easily. Lately, Tessa’s fitful nights are growing even more predictable, almost like déjà vu. And she’s beginning to think that something greater is at work—something her society has taken drastic measures to keep hidden.
Caught between self-discovery and government conformity, she’ll have to choose either the boy who can help her reveal this new truth or the one that can provide her with the security of familiarity.
Tessa’s faced with a weighty decision. And she’s going to need more than a good night’s sleep to make it.
But when your parents are dead and the government directs your path in life, sleep shouldn’t come easily. Lately, Tessa’s fitful nights are growing even more predictable, almost like déjà vu. And she’s beginning to think that something greater is at work—something her society has taken drastic measures to keep hidden.
Caught between self-discovery and government conformity, she’ll have to choose either the boy who can help her reveal this new truth or the one that can provide her with the security of familiarity.
Tessa’s faced with a weighty decision. And she’s going to need more than a good night’s sleep to make it.
Traced Teaser
2:34.
Seriously? Not again.
It’s so frustrating that those three numbers harbor so much meaning. For anyone else it’s just one of 1,440 other minutes in a day. It quickly ticks by in sixty seconds, and chances are, a normal person is completely unaware of its coming and going. But too many times those numbers stop me in my tracks. Or wake me out of a sound sleep. No other minute of the day causes me anxiety, but 2:34 sets into motion a full range of emotions so vast that every time it passes it’s as though life comes skidding to a halt, yet again.
2:34 p.m.
I never read the coroner’s report, nor cared to know the details. I knew they had crashed—that something in one of the plane’s engines malfunctioned shortly after takeoff. When I saw the officers pulling onto the long, dirt drive just as I had placed the last plate left from lunch into the wire dish rack, I knew it was bad news.
That’s all I needed to know. I didn’t want more details because I didn’t want my last memories to be about the facts of how they died. They lived life too fully to be summed up in a two-sentence statement regarding their death. So all I inquired about was the time of the crash.
That I did want to know—the precise minute when my life changed forever.
Megan Squires lives with her husband and two children just outside of Sacramento, California. A graduate from the University of California, Davis, Megan is now a full-time mother, wife, and dreamer – though her characters don’t often give her much opportunity to sleep.
Check out the rest of the Traced tour here
Due to circumstances beyond my control my review of Traced will be posted at a later date.
