Tuesday lives with her aunt after the death of her mother in a car accident following remission from cancer. Angry at the world, she rebels against her guardian, her education and her nervous peers, and it isn't until she meets Max (with his own burdens to bear) that she begins to learn how to navigate the tumultuous waters of college, friendship and love once more. ★ WATTYS 2019 WINNER: Young Adult ★ ★ 3 TIMES FEATURED: Homepage banner & Wattpad Picks, Editors' Choice x2 ★ ★ 1ST PLACE TEEN FICTION: The Constellation Awards 2018 ★ ★ 2ND PLACE GEN FICTION: The Rising Star Awards 2018 ★ ★ 2ND PLACE TEEN FICTION: The Annual Medley Awards 2018 ★

Imagine the second you're born, a consultant removes you from your mother's grasp and runs a battery of genetic and physiological tests on you. Thirty minutes later they give you a score out of one hundred which denotes your level of perfection. If your score is above eighty and you work hard to maintain that score you will have a charmed life; well fed, well-rewarded, spoiled. But fall below eighty and you're labelled Flawed, and life will not be so kind. Hannah is adopted by a Flawed family when her birth parents choose their social standing over their daughter and endures a life of struggle, hunger and service. One day Hannah is escorted to the regional government office and told that the Consultant who delivered her, who labelled her Flawed got it wrong! Now, she is being relocated back to her birth parents, to live as one of the Ninety-Five- all medically and legally judged as perfect. Entering this new life Hannah has an impossible decision to make which puts not only hers, but the lives of everyone she cares about at great risk. "The Numbered- where no one wants to be number one". Authors notes: -This is a first draft of my story and will be edited soon. -2013 Began writing Flawed -2015 Watty Winner/ Named changed to The Numbered -2016 Completed The Numbered -2019 Optioned by eOne for development into a TV show.

Time. The definition of time has been constant for decades. That slow moving arrow that leads to another and it never really ends, it's an infinite rotation that sometimes makes you lose your mind. "What year is it?" I ask not removing my eyes off of him. He points to the newspaper "It's 1840?" I take a step back from the man trying to gather my thoughts, l can feel the news paper slip out of my hands as black spots cover my vision and I hit the floor. The last thing I can process is the man's voice screaming for help and then it all goes dark. Story cover by @-acethespace