Under the Surface

by Diana Urban

Genres: Young Adult; YA Action & Adventure

Synopsis

An epic survival-thriller about four teens who get lost in the Paris catacombs for days—a gripping and propulsive story of love, danger, betrayal, and hope… even when all seems lost.

"Tense and fast-moving, with a unique setting and compelling characters, Under the Surface is Diana Urban’s best yet."—Karen M. McManus, #1 New York Times bestselling author of One of Us Is Lying


Ruby is terrified to cave to her feelings for Sean and risk him crushing her heart. 

Sean is pumped to spend a week with Ruby in Paris on their senior class trip, and he’ll wait however long until she’s ready to take things further.

But when Ruby’s best friend sneaks out the first night to meet a  mysterious French boy, Ruby goes after her with two classmates, but caves to another temptation: attending mystery boy’s exclusive party in the Paris catacombs, the intricate web of tunnels beneath the city, home to six million long-dead Parisians. Only they never reach the party.

Underground, as something sinister chases them, they get lost in the endless maze of bones, uncovering dark secrets about the catacombs…..and each other. And if they can’t find a way out, they’ll die in the dark beneath the City of Light. 

Aboveground, Sean races to find the girl he loves as a media frenzy over the four missing teens begins.

From award-winning author and rising YA star Diana Urban comes a twisty tale of four teens lost in the dark beneath the City of Light and the race to find them.

Release date: August 13, 2024

Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Print pages: 368

Sample

I never thought I’d die alone in the dark under the City of Light.
That’s what they call Paris. The City of Light. Makes sense when you think of the Eiffel Tower glinting in the sun or sparkling at night over the Seine. Or the vibrant paintings bedecking the palatial Louvre Museum. Or the glittering fashionistas strolling the ­Champs-​­Élysées. Or the dazzling boulevards with whitewashed buildings gleaming like pearls against the blue sky.
God, I’d kill for some of that light right now.
As I hurtle through the dark, cramped corridor deep underground, my phone’s flashlight makes elongated shadows bounce and bob across the craggy walls like a chaotic, ghostly dance, and I have to stoop to keep my skull from slamming into the low, jagged ceiling.
There’s no sign of the others.
Terror claws up my chest, and I try not to think of the crunching noises under my boots, try not to think how it’s only a matter of time until my phone runs out of power, until my mouth parches, my stomach shrivels, and my legs give out beneath me. Then there’ll be nothing to do but curl into a ball and wait for the darkness to become infinite.
Unless they get to me first.
No. That can’t happen. I won’t let it.
I turn a corner and slam my back against the wall, then toggle off my flashlight, plunging the corridor into pitch blackness. But hiding in the dark means my friends won’t find me, either. I breathe hard, feeling like I could choke on the dank, humid air, and a sob scrapes my throat. I’m screwed. Undeniably, irrevocably screwed. But I can’t spiral. Panicking got me into this mess to begin with.
Keeping my spirits up among six million corpses isn’t exactly an easy feat. That’s how many are entombed down here in the catacombs, their skeletal remains intricately arranged throughout this ancient labyrinth that stretches under the bustling streets of Paris like layers of rotted casserole squished under a decadent crust. My chest constricts, and it’s like I can feel the crushing weight of all six million dead.
And that number’s high enough, thank you very much.
A low, rasping growl echoes through the passageway. My heart jolts, and I clamp a shaking hand over my mouth to mask my heavy breathing.
But it’s too late.
They found me.
Maybe there are worse things than dying alone.