Shelley Watters Agent Critique contest!

That Shelley Watters is at it again!  She's got another agent judged contest going on and I thought, what the heck, I'll give it a shot.  I've majorly rewritten my first page.  Well, it feels major to me anyway.  This is 356 words, rather than 250, but heck, this is my blog so I figured I'd post what a saw fit.  Here it is, see what you think. 

Title: Dream Girl
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
Word Count: 74,171

Chapter 1.

    I’d imagined it forever but when the time came, I wasn’t prepared for my gothic fantasies to become real. For most of my eighteen years, things were as normal as the Cheerios I’d eaten for breakfast.  The day I met Gabriel started out no different.  My alarm had gone off. I’d gone through the same old morning routine.  Checked my phone for new texts from my best friend, Tiffany.  Listened to a voice mail from my mom and left my apartment the same way I always did: wondering WWJE do? (What would Jane Eyre do?) 

    That particular morning, I drove to work wondering how Jane Eyre would spend the summer after graduating high school. Summer stretched out before me like a lazy cat. I really hoped I could figure out what to major in at college. I didn’t have to decide until next year, but it would be nice to have it squared away and know where my life was heading. I always like a concrete goal to work toward.   

My thoughts had to wait when, ten minutes late, as usual, I hustled into the public library, my workplace for the past three years.  Ditching my purse in my locker, I strode into the workroom, an open space populated by cubicles for the librarians and long tables for the support staff.  I held my breath as I scurried past the row of supervisor offices on my right.  The last thing I wanted was one of them to notice I wasn’t manning the circulation desk already.

Escaping detection in supervisor alley, I made it to the staff copy room, where our mailboxes resided.  Hoping to duck in to retrieve my nametag, I discovered my boss, Laura Faust, talking to a guy who wore his brown tee shirt and rumpled jeans really well.  At least, he looked good from behind, which was all I could see of him.

            I tried to inconspicuously snake my arm around them to access my mailbox but Laura stopped me. 

            “Christine,” she said.  “I’d like you to meet Gabriel, our new page.”

            “Nice to meet you,” Gabriel said as he turned toward me.