Saturday, February 23, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Hundred Dresses by: Eleanor Estes
Review by Saba
There was a girl named Wanda that loved dresses, so she lied and said she had a hundred dresses. Then, she ends up leaving.
Les Miserables by: Victor Hugo, adapted by Monica Kulling
Review by Chris
Les Miserables is about an escaped convict named Jean Valjean who meets his old enemy, Javert, who is a cop. You will have to read the book to find out more.
Mwahahahahahaha!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Defiance by: Valerie Hobbs
Review by Mar-Mar
This book is about a boy who has cancer, who spends his summer in a cottage. He meets an old lady that writes poems. She has a cow. Toby (main character) feeds the cow (Blossom) some Cheerios.
It was an O.K. book. It was boring until the end. At the end it gets interesting. A horrible tragedy happens to someone important to Toby.
Sammy Keyes and the Dead Give Away by: Wendelin Van Draanen
Sammy Keyes is going to school and she comes into the room and sees the bird flying in the room in the room. READ TO FIND OUT!
Great, because this was the best ever!
This Gum For Hire: From the Tattered Casebook of Chet Gecko, Private Eye
Review by Samar
There is a boy Chet, who is a detective at his school, well the only detective in his school. He gets this case from a boy on the school football team, Herman the Gila Monster. The case is that some of the players on the football 3 to be precise have disappeared and the coach is blaming Herman. So Herman came to Chet and told him the whole story well he grabbed Chet by the neck and told him the story. Herman also told Chet that he would pay Chet a chocolate cake for ever player that he found. Oh yeah, Chet has a partner to. She is a bird whose name is Natalie Attired. Now you have to read the book to find out more!!
Starting with Alice by: Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
This book is for girls. So boys, don't read it. The 1st alice book. The book is about Alice Mckinley. Her mom died when she was 4 because she had lukemia. Alice had a best friend and her name was Rosalind. She was also friends with Sara. But before she made friends she moved from Chicago where she used to live with her aunt Sally. Aunt Sally is Alice's aunt and she was Alice's mom's sister. Aunt Sally took care of Alice and her brother Lester. Sara used to have really dirty hair but then Alice and Rosalind had a bubble bath party and they washed Sara's hair and they became friends with her. but before that sara used to have no friends because she had dirty hair and she was very smart. When Alice just moved to Maryland she had no friends and her dad bought her a cat. She loved her cat.
This is a really good book and Phyllis Reynolds Naylor is a really good author and there are 22 books in the Alice series. They are the best books I've ever read and they are not for boys. They are for girls.
The Old Willis Place by: Mary Downing Hahn
Review By Gaby
The Old Willis Place is about a girl named Diana and a boy named Georgie. They have three rules to follow. One: You can't go past the gate. Two: You can't talk to anyone. Three: Never, NEVER go in Miss Willis's place.
There's a new caretaker as usual. But this time he has a daughter. Will Diana break the rules to be Lisa's friend?
This is the best book I've ever read. It's addicting and suspensful. Not too scary. A five star book definitely.
The Guardians Ch.1 by Jaimie
Rewind
I was in a forest in the late afternoon, a forest in which the trees reached up to touch the dusk sky. The full moon shone on the eastern horizon, I was sure, waiting for its turn in the sky. The trees throbbed with life, and I knew, somehow, that these trees had been here for centuries, if not millennia. I wove my way through them, stopping every once in a while to examine a footprint, a vine, a flower. I wandered for what seemed like hours, or at least until the moon was directly overhead, spattering everything with its silver light.
I was examining the procession of large insects that shimmered like the finest jade, when, out of nowhere, a figure melted out of the shadows with a faint ‘whoosh’ and silently walked toward a faint reddish glow to the east. The only sound was that of its long, hooded cloak brushing along the forest floor. Having nothing better to do, I followed it.
After a few hundred yards, it suddenly stopped and looked to its right. I heard the cracking of a twig, and whirled around to face the noise. Out of the darkness, an ancient wolf with unsettlingly intelligent eyes approached the figure. A great mist seemed to condense around the wolf, and then, out of it, stepped another figure. The two of them nodded to each other with and made an unfamiliar hand gesture, a strange twisting of the right hand over the sternum. They then continued to walk, breaking into the circle of light.
There was a large bonfire in the middle of a clearing, often flickering up into strange, animal-like shapes in vibrant hues before collapsing back again. Seated on smooth boulders in a ring around the fire were a dozen or more figures wearing the same long cloaks but with their hoods down. To my utter amazement, I recognized many of the faces. There was one of my old teachers, and over there, my neighbors. With a jolt, I noticed was that all of them were women, and that they all of their eyes seemed to be cut from gemstones. A few other vaguely familiar female faces surrounded the flames, and when the two cloaked figures entered the circle, they all repeated the strange, awkward gesture. They both dropped their hoods, and revealed that they were none other than my mother and grandmother. I stood in the shadows, my mouth hanging open with shock while my mother started to speak.
“I have called this meeting of the Guardians to carry out a decision which requires your approval.” my mother said. “My daughter is coming of age in a week, and I seek your assistance on convincing her of her duties.”
“Is it wise to tell her now, at the time when we are in the gravest danger?” a glamorous woman asked with a voice as soft as the wind through the grass. “Can’t we wait another couple years?”
“I, for one, think she should be told” said another, shorter girl, maybe seventeen, in a whiny voice that sounded like it came from a three-year-old.
“No, no, no” a withered old woman replied angrily, her voice as ancient as stone, “She wouldn’t understand. Do you want to scare her off? She’d think you were crazy!”
“That would never happen!” exclaimed a person who looked strangely familiar. “I think I aught to know her. After all, I’ve been a part of her life since before she was born! We must tell her.” Uproar followed that statement as people took sides.
“Quiet!” my grandmother exclaimed, leaping to her feet and brandishing a staff made of wood, polished smooth from use, with glowing, milky-white stones set into the handle. She was obviously respected, as all of the people quickly were hushed. “We shall go about this in a civilized manner. It is up to her mother, my daughter, to decide whether to tell her now or to wait. Those of you who wish to offer advice; you may speak to her after the meeting, but right now, we have other matters to attend to.”
And then my alarm clock went off.
I rolled over and groaned, not quite ready to get out of bed. The only problem with that was…my alarm clock was half way across the room. Beep, beep, beep it taunted me. I pulled my quilt over my head, and, when that didn’t help, my pillow. Still, that infernal beeping found its way into my head, pounding against my brain and making sleep impossible. “Stupid alarm clock” I muttered crossly as I sat up in bed, pulling back my sheets, awakening my cat, Tigger and making her arch her fiery back contentedly before hunkering down and licking her snowy-white paw. I rolled out of bed, barely managing to land on my feet, and stumbled over to the offending clock, swearing as I stubbed my toe along the way, and then remembered: today was the last day of school. A little more awake, I walked across the hall and into the bathroom, began running the shower, and stepped in.
I rushed through my shower, narrowly avoiding several injuries. In fact, I could swear I’d just nicked my ankle bone, but all that was there was a faint, pink scar. There was even blood on the razor. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought, shaking my head, that’s impossible. I lathered my hair and scrubbed my back, but eventually I couldn’t dither in the warm water any longer. Getting out of the shower, I wrapped myself into a towel and darted back into my room.
I flounced over to my wardrobe, my feet sinking into the luscious white fokati rug beneath my feet, and picked a last-day-of-school worthy outfit. I put on some distressed jean shorts that showed off my tan, trim legs; my string-bikini swimsuit top, in forest green; and a semi-opaque white tank top that stretched the limits of the dress code, the straps minimal, a plunging neckline, and showing a sliver of my flat stomach. I also donned the traditional shell necklace and matching earrings, and makeup. After running a brush through my long, silky brown-almost-black hair, I sped down the stairs and into the kitchen where my parents were waiting for me with my breakfast.
“Good morning, Izzy” my father greeted me, wearing a tie-dye shirt and baggy jeans, “have any interesting dreams? I can interpret your future from them, you know.”
My father, always Mr. Spiritual. This month was dream interpretation; last month was meditation, and the month before that? Feng-Shui.
“Nothing, really,” I said. I contemplated for a few seconds whether or not to tell him. Yes, I decided. “Actually, dad, I had a dream about mom.” I turned to address my mother “you were walking through some woods, and a wolf turned into grandma, and you were a part of a group called ‘The Guardians’ or something. You talked about me.” I laughed.
My dad let out a bark of laughter, too, and after a second, my mom forced a chuckle. It didn’t reach her golden eyes. They stayed worried, confused. The sight of it troubled me, but instead of asking why, I dug into my cereal and, in quick procession, finished my orange half, toast, milk, and juice. Satisfied, I got up and rinsed my dishes, placing them carefully into the dishwasher. I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door, yelling “Bye, mom. Bye dad. See you after school” over my shoulder as I went.
I walked down the front walk and turned to head for school, but a cry of “Hey, Bella, wait up!” stopped me short. A couple of yards back, my best friend-slash-crush, Sean Bellefleur, was jogging to catch up with me, his red-black hair tousled from running, his arms and legs well muscled from years of track and swimming. I stopped to wait for him, as usual, and after catching up, he asked me why I was so early. He said he’d been relaxing on his porch with a drink when he saw me rush out of the house.
“It’s nothing” I said, adverting my eyes.
“Bella,” he said with mock annoyance, “you can’t lie to save your life. Now tell me, what happened? I might be able to help.” He crossed his arms and waited.
I sighed and admitted, “I had a crazy dream last night, and I told my dad to see if he could make sense of it, but my mom overheard and she freaked out. I think I really spooked her, but I don’t know why.” I shook my head. “Sometimes my mom’s just so darned cryptic.”
“I feel ya. My mom and my grandma went out for a ‘girls’ night’ and were arguing when they got back. I heard your name a couple times, but when I asked, they were suddenly extremely cheery.” He shrugged.
“Did you hear anything about a group called The Guardians?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah, my mom said something about ‘adding to the woe of The Guardians’. Why?”
That was what the group in my dream was called. I’m starting to think it was more than a dream…maybe more of a premonition.” I paused, and then laughed. “Look at me. I’m getting to be more like my dad every day.”
Suddenly, I was walking along the same path, but everything was colonial-looking. I froze, surprised. A hose and buggy clattered by on my right, and when I looked down, I saw that I was wearing a dress and petticoat instead of my jeans. My hair felt as stiff as a lump of steel wool, and I could hardly breathe through my corset. A man in a tailcoat was walking ahead of me, and when he turned around I saw it was not Sean, but a man who I’d seen in my history book. James something-or-other.
I turned and fled, scared out of my mind. I dashed toward the lot where my house was supposed to be, passing mansion after mansion, and halted in my tracks. This was my house, but the house was in excellent condition, the condition grandmother had said the house was in when her great-great-aunt had lived in it. I cautiously walked up the walk and knocked on the door, my curiosity overpowering that of fear. A wrinkled old woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door and looked at me inquiringly.
“Hi. Can I see Ms…uhh…?” I couldn’t remember Great-great-great-great-aunt Anastasia’s last name. “Oh. Ms. Hawkins, please. It’s a relative.”
The maid continued to look at me strange, but then a voice called from the hall: “Who is it, Marie?” The maid stepped aside and a woman who could’ve been Marilyn Monroe’s twin stepped forward, wearing a wedding dress imbedded with pearls and diamonds, gently sparkling in the light and trailing behind her for a good fifteen feet. She also wore a veil that draped past her tiny waist and fluttered softly in the breeze from the doorway. “Isabelle! How nice to see you again! It’s been years! Come in, come in.”
I gaped at her dumbfounded. It must’ve been the late 1800’s and my great-great-great-great-aunt had known my name? How could this be?
“Isabelle, dear, are you coming?” she turned and looked at me. “I’ve tea in the study, and you can stay if you like.” Her eyes were kind and excited, betraying nothing.
“Coming.” I meekly trailed after her.
Once we entered her study, a place handsomely decorated in dark oak with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, we made our way over to the small cluster of green leather armchairs in front of a roaring fire. She sat in a chair and picked up an intricate needle working project that depicted an emerald dragon curled around a castle tower. The scene was so realistic that I half expected the dragon to move. When she realized that I wasn’t seated, she told me that I could sit if I wished. I still stared at the dragon. “For my nephew.” She explained. “Tea?”
“Sure.” I sipped my tea, grimaced and set it down to cool. “How do you know my name? No, offense, but you were dead long before I was born, and so were your siblings, and their children. My grandmother, your great-great-niece was the closest to my generation ever to see you.”
She stared at me, eyebrow cocked, slowly shaking her head back and forth. Then, understanding lit her eyes. “But of course. You are simply from the next cycle. Am I correct when I say that you will be turning sixteen soon?”
“Well, yeah. My birthday’s a week from today…well, the day I left behind. Why?”
“Your closest female relative will explain after the hour of birth on your birthday. My mother told me at seven p.m. on my sixteenth.” She said, smiling. “What a shock. By the way, all you have to do if this ever happens again is fall asleep. It brings you back to your time. For now, I suggest curling up with a good book.” She grinned “that always helps me sleep.”
“I’ll do that” I said, smiling. Boy her grins were infectious. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you now; I need to get ready for my wedding. Just signal Marie if you need anything.” And with that, she left. I got up and started to browse the shelves, finally settling on a thick tomb of poetry. I pulled the chair closer to the fire, curled up, and read.
I was in a forest in the late afternoon, a forest in which the trees reached up to touch the dusk sky. The full moon shone on the eastern horizon, I was sure, waiting for its turn in the sky. The trees throbbed with life, and I knew, somehow, that these trees had been here for centuries, if not millennia. I wove my way through them, stopping every once in a while to examine a footprint, a vine, a flower. I wandered for what seemed like hours, or at least until the moon was directly overhead, spattering everything with its silver light.
I was examining the procession of large insects that shimmered like the finest jade, when, out of nowhere, a figure melted out of the shadows with a faint ‘whoosh’ and silently walked toward a faint reddish glow to the east. The only sound was that of its long, hooded cloak brushing along the forest floor. Having nothing better to do, I followed it.
After a few hundred yards, it suddenly stopped and looked to its right. I heard the cracking of a twig, and whirled around to face the noise. Out of the darkness, an ancient wolf with unsettlingly intelligent eyes approached the figure. A great mist seemed to condense around the wolf, and then, out of it, stepped another figure. The two of them nodded to each other with and made an unfamiliar hand gesture, a strange twisting of the right hand over the sternum. They then continued to walk, breaking into the circle of light.
There was a large bonfire in the middle of a clearing, often flickering up into strange, animal-like shapes in vibrant hues before collapsing back again. Seated on smooth boulders in a ring around the fire were a dozen or more figures wearing the same long cloaks but with their hoods down. To my utter amazement, I recognized many of the faces. There was one of my old teachers, and over there, my neighbors. With a jolt, I noticed was that all of them were women, and that they all of their eyes seemed to be cut from gemstones. A few other vaguely familiar female faces surrounded the flames, and when the two cloaked figures entered the circle, they all repeated the strange, awkward gesture. They both dropped their hoods, and revealed that they were none other than my mother and grandmother. I stood in the shadows, my mouth hanging open with shock while my mother started to speak.
“I have called this meeting of the Guardians to carry out a decision which requires your approval.” my mother said. “My daughter is coming of age in a week, and I seek your assistance on convincing her of her duties.”
“Is it wise to tell her now, at the time when we are in the gravest danger?” a glamorous woman asked with a voice as soft as the wind through the grass. “Can’t we wait another couple years?”
“I, for one, think she should be told” said another, shorter girl, maybe seventeen, in a whiny voice that sounded like it came from a three-year-old.
“No, no, no” a withered old woman replied angrily, her voice as ancient as stone, “She wouldn’t understand. Do you want to scare her off? She’d think you were crazy!”
“That would never happen!” exclaimed a person who looked strangely familiar. “I think I aught to know her. After all, I’ve been a part of her life since before she was born! We must tell her.” Uproar followed that statement as people took sides.
“Quiet!” my grandmother exclaimed, leaping to her feet and brandishing a staff made of wood, polished smooth from use, with glowing, milky-white stones set into the handle. She was obviously respected, as all of the people quickly were hushed. “We shall go about this in a civilized manner. It is up to her mother, my daughter, to decide whether to tell her now or to wait. Those of you who wish to offer advice; you may speak to her after the meeting, but right now, we have other matters to attend to.”
And then my alarm clock went off.
I rolled over and groaned, not quite ready to get out of bed. The only problem with that was…my alarm clock was half way across the room. Beep, beep, beep it taunted me. I pulled my quilt over my head, and, when that didn’t help, my pillow. Still, that infernal beeping found its way into my head, pounding against my brain and making sleep impossible. “Stupid alarm clock” I muttered crossly as I sat up in bed, pulling back my sheets, awakening my cat, Tigger and making her arch her fiery back contentedly before hunkering down and licking her snowy-white paw. I rolled out of bed, barely managing to land on my feet, and stumbled over to the offending clock, swearing as I stubbed my toe along the way, and then remembered: today was the last day of school. A little more awake, I walked across the hall and into the bathroom, began running the shower, and stepped in.
I rushed through my shower, narrowly avoiding several injuries. In fact, I could swear I’d just nicked my ankle bone, but all that was there was a faint, pink scar. There was even blood on the razor. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought, shaking my head, that’s impossible. I lathered my hair and scrubbed my back, but eventually I couldn’t dither in the warm water any longer. Getting out of the shower, I wrapped myself into a towel and darted back into my room.
I flounced over to my wardrobe, my feet sinking into the luscious white fokati rug beneath my feet, and picked a last-day-of-school worthy outfit. I put on some distressed jean shorts that showed off my tan, trim legs; my string-bikini swimsuit top, in forest green; and a semi-opaque white tank top that stretched the limits of the dress code, the straps minimal, a plunging neckline, and showing a sliver of my flat stomach. I also donned the traditional shell necklace and matching earrings, and makeup. After running a brush through my long, silky brown-almost-black hair, I sped down the stairs and into the kitchen where my parents were waiting for me with my breakfast.
“Good morning, Izzy” my father greeted me, wearing a tie-dye shirt and baggy jeans, “have any interesting dreams? I can interpret your future from them, you know.”
My father, always Mr. Spiritual. This month was dream interpretation; last month was meditation, and the month before that? Feng-Shui.
“Nothing, really,” I said. I contemplated for a few seconds whether or not to tell him. Yes, I decided. “Actually, dad, I had a dream about mom.” I turned to address my mother “you were walking through some woods, and a wolf turned into grandma, and you were a part of a group called ‘The Guardians’ or something. You talked about me.” I laughed.
My dad let out a bark of laughter, too, and after a second, my mom forced a chuckle. It didn’t reach her golden eyes. They stayed worried, confused. The sight of it troubled me, but instead of asking why, I dug into my cereal and, in quick procession, finished my orange half, toast, milk, and juice. Satisfied, I got up and rinsed my dishes, placing them carefully into the dishwasher. I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door, yelling “Bye, mom. Bye dad. See you after school” over my shoulder as I went.
I walked down the front walk and turned to head for school, but a cry of “Hey, Bella, wait up!” stopped me short. A couple of yards back, my best friend-slash-crush, Sean Bellefleur, was jogging to catch up with me, his red-black hair tousled from running, his arms and legs well muscled from years of track and swimming. I stopped to wait for him, as usual, and after catching up, he asked me why I was so early. He said he’d been relaxing on his porch with a drink when he saw me rush out of the house.
“It’s nothing” I said, adverting my eyes.
“Bella,” he said with mock annoyance, “you can’t lie to save your life. Now tell me, what happened? I might be able to help.” He crossed his arms and waited.
I sighed and admitted, “I had a crazy dream last night, and I told my dad to see if he could make sense of it, but my mom overheard and she freaked out. I think I really spooked her, but I don’t know why.” I shook my head. “Sometimes my mom’s just so darned cryptic.”
“I feel ya. My mom and my grandma went out for a ‘girls’ night’ and were arguing when they got back. I heard your name a couple times, but when I asked, they were suddenly extremely cheery.” He shrugged.
“Did you hear anything about a group called The Guardians?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah, my mom said something about ‘adding to the woe of The Guardians’. Why?”
That was what the group in my dream was called. I’m starting to think it was more than a dream…maybe more of a premonition.” I paused, and then laughed. “Look at me. I’m getting to be more like my dad every day.”
Suddenly, I was walking along the same path, but everything was colonial-looking. I froze, surprised. A hose and buggy clattered by on my right, and when I looked down, I saw that I was wearing a dress and petticoat instead of my jeans. My hair felt as stiff as a lump of steel wool, and I could hardly breathe through my corset. A man in a tailcoat was walking ahead of me, and when he turned around I saw it was not Sean, but a man who I’d seen in my history book. James something-or-other.
I turned and fled, scared out of my mind. I dashed toward the lot where my house was supposed to be, passing mansion after mansion, and halted in my tracks. This was my house, but the house was in excellent condition, the condition grandmother had said the house was in when her great-great-aunt had lived in it. I cautiously walked up the walk and knocked on the door, my curiosity overpowering that of fear. A wrinkled old woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door and looked at me inquiringly.
“Hi. Can I see Ms…uhh…?” I couldn’t remember Great-great-great-great-aunt Anastasia’s last name. “Oh. Ms. Hawkins, please. It’s a relative.”
The maid continued to look at me strange, but then a voice called from the hall: “Who is it, Marie?” The maid stepped aside and a woman who could’ve been Marilyn Monroe’s twin stepped forward, wearing a wedding dress imbedded with pearls and diamonds, gently sparkling in the light and trailing behind her for a good fifteen feet. She also wore a veil that draped past her tiny waist and fluttered softly in the breeze from the doorway. “Isabelle! How nice to see you again! It’s been years! Come in, come in.”
I gaped at her dumbfounded. It must’ve been the late 1800’s and my great-great-great-great-aunt had known my name? How could this be?
“Isabelle, dear, are you coming?” she turned and looked at me. “I’ve tea in the study, and you can stay if you like.” Her eyes were kind and excited, betraying nothing.
“Coming.” I meekly trailed after her.
Once we entered her study, a place handsomely decorated in dark oak with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, we made our way over to the small cluster of green leather armchairs in front of a roaring fire. She sat in a chair and picked up an intricate needle working project that depicted an emerald dragon curled around a castle tower. The scene was so realistic that I half expected the dragon to move. When she realized that I wasn’t seated, she told me that I could sit if I wished. I still stared at the dragon. “For my nephew.” She explained. “Tea?”
“Sure.” I sipped my tea, grimaced and set it down to cool. “How do you know my name? No, offense, but you were dead long before I was born, and so were your siblings, and their children. My grandmother, your great-great-niece was the closest to my generation ever to see you.”
She stared at me, eyebrow cocked, slowly shaking her head back and forth. Then, understanding lit her eyes. “But of course. You are simply from the next cycle. Am I correct when I say that you will be turning sixteen soon?”
“Well, yeah. My birthday’s a week from today…well, the day I left behind. Why?”
“Your closest female relative will explain after the hour of birth on your birthday. My mother told me at seven p.m. on my sixteenth.” She said, smiling. “What a shock. By the way, all you have to do if this ever happens again is fall asleep. It brings you back to your time. For now, I suggest curling up with a good book.” She grinned “that always helps me sleep.”
“I’ll do that” I said, smiling. Boy her grins were infectious. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you now; I need to get ready for my wedding. Just signal Marie if you need anything.” And with that, she left. I got up and started to browse the shelves, finally settling on a thick tomb of poetry. I pulled the chair closer to the fire, curled up, and read.
The Outsiders by: S.E Hinton
In this book their are three brothers who are struggling, because their parents died. So, the three brothers have to live by themselves in the house. The youngest one was named Ponyboy, the middle child is named Soda Pop, and the oldest is named Dave. On the opposite side where the boys live, are the rich teens who cause trouble. Later on in the book Ponyboy almost got killed by a knife from the trouble makers. Which were the rich teens. Then later on in the book Ponyboy becomes a hero! So if you want to find out what happens next, read this book.
Claudia and the Bad Joke by: Ann M. Martin
My book is about the Baby sitters Club, and is part of the series . The club includes: Stacy, Kristy, Merry Ann, Mallory, Jessie, and Claudia. In this book, Claudia is sitting for the, EVIL PRANK MASTER-MIND, Betsy. when baby sitting, Claudia gets hurt....
I loved the book. it's HILARIOUS, I couldn't put it down, Read It Now!!!
Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism by: Georgia Byng
Review by Giggles
A girl named Molly Moon lives at an orphan. Then one day she finds a hypnotism book. When she first starts reading it she starts hypnotizing people. Then she figures out that her only best friend was adopted.
Someday Angeline by: Louis Sachar
Angeline has never gone to the beach but knows about the animals who live there. For some reason her father won't take her to the beach and her mother is dead but Angeline doesn't know why. Read the book to find out.
The Boy Who Saved Baseball by John H. Ritter
Review by sparten16ab
There's this boy named Tom that is trying to save a baseball field from being turned into a parking lot. Tom is playing against the people that are trying to buy the baseball field. Tom tries to get a team to win the baseball field and it will not be turned into a parking lot. So when this boy comes named Cruz helps the boys and girls.
What My Mother Doesn't Know by: Sonya Sones
Review by Irisha.
The main character is Sophie Stein. This was one of the best books I've ever read. It's about a girl- Sophie who is popular. She is a freshman in high school. Over the winter break when all of her friends go on vocation, Sophie's parents tell her she is not going anywhere because they can't afford it. So, she makes up a vocation for herself. She goes shopping and to the museum where she meets Robin Murphy. He is not popular, no one likes him, but Sophie does. Everyone around the school made up stuff about Robin like, for example, saying "You are such a Murphy." And that is where the great story begins.
I think it's one of the best books and I will recommend it to teenage girls! A great book!
Alice in Lace by: Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
While planning a wedding as part of an assignment for her 8th grade health class, Alice thinks about her father's and older brother's love lives and learns that you can not prepare for all of life's decisions. Pamela on the other hand is one of Alice's best friends. For a health class assignment she must hypothetically decide whether to get an abortion or keep the baby for 6 months.
Elizabeth is also Alice's best freinds. She is buying a new car. Throughout the book these three friends will need to make a tough decision.
A Great and Terrible Beauty by: Libba Bray
Review by Liz
In the summer of 1895 Gemma Doyle turned sixteen years old. She should be happy, but she isn't. She lives with her family in India and wishes more than anything to move back to England to attend parties and have fun. After a horrible event Gemma does return to England, but instead of attending parties she is sent to a girl's boarding school in England to learn how to become a proper lady.
Life at Spence Academy is hard for Gemma. She doesn't have any friends and she has been having supernatural visions ever since her sixteenth birthday. With help from a handsome, mysterious stranger, Gemma will learn about her visions, her mother's past, and a strange society of women called the Order.
A Great and Terrible Beauty is the first book in a series of three written by Libba Bray. If you liked the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyers, I would recommend this series to you.
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