Sixteen-year-old Decca Tenderstone lives in a dystopian future Los Angeles, where every sixteen-year-old is ranked on a scale from One to Ten to determine their future. Teens ranked less than Five are called Monsters and are considered a danger to society. They are forced to attend the Monster Show- a brutal, sacrificial ritual that is broadcast worldwide on live TV. IF you can survive the Monster Show, you become a Ten. That’s a big IF- no one has ever become a Ten.
Decca feels captivated when she meets gorgeous and reckless Leo, who is arrogant, silent, and shoots almost every one he meets. Decca doesn’t need or want Leo’s company. She has a secret of her own. Though they both can’t stand each other, she’s determined to find out why she doesn’t fit in to any rank.
Nothing and no one will stand in her way as she has to make choices concerning love, life, staying alive, growing up, and finding out who she really is.
Cameron writes books that he can’t find elsewhere, basically to amuse himself. Everything Cameron does is for fun, so don’t take him seriously. Never call him a writer. He hates that. He prefers the word: Storyteller, or the boy next door who claims he can tell stories.
If you like his books, horaaaay! He loves ya too. If ya don’t, hoooray! Now we know in advance that this relationship isn’t going to work.
Although his books are ordinary on the surface, they hold many secrets that he might reveal one day. What matters the most to him are characters struggling to find their identities and place in the world.
Things you Don’t need to know:
He celebrates his birthday twice a year, the day he was born and Friday the 13th. He wants to live in a bubble house. He lives in San Fransisco when he has no money. When he does, he travels away, and that’s when he writes best. He is a damn good guitar player. He is damn good architecture college drop out. He likes boats, beaches, bears, beards, bananas, bars, barfights, beans, bikes, bones, butter, babes, bakery, blizzards, and pirates ( he thought it was spelled Birates when he was a kid. )
And honestly, writing in third person sucks! It’s so fake.