Verwandte Artikel zu Things You Can't Say

Things You Can't Say - Hardcover

Bishop, Jenn

 
9781534440975: Things You Can't Say
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 1534440976 ISBN 13: 9781534440975
Verlag: Aladdin, 2020

Inhaltsangabe

Perfect for fans of See You in the Cosmos and Where the Watermelons Grow, author Jenn Bishop's latest novel tells the moving story of a boy determined to uncover the truth.

Nothing is going right this summer for Drew. And after losing his dad unexpectedly three years ago, Drew knows a lot about things not going right. First, it’s the new girl Audrey taking over everything at the library, Drew’s sacred space. Then it’s his best friend, Filipe, pulling away from him. But most upsetting has to be the mysterious man who is suddenly staying with Drew’s family. An old friend of Mom’s? Drew isn’t buying that.

With an unlikely ally in Audrey, he’s determined to get to the bottom of who this man really is. The thing is, there are some fears—like what if the person you thought was your dad actually wasn’t—that you can’t speak out loud, not to anyone. At least that’s what Drew thinks.

But then again, first impressions can be deceiving.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jenn Bishop is the author of the middle grade novels Things You Can’t Say, 14 Hollow Road, The Distance to Home, and Where We Used to Roam. She grew up in Massachusetts and as a college student spent one incredible summer in Wyoming. She has been obsessed with bison ever since. After working as a children’s librarian, she received her MFA in writing for children and young adults from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. Jenn currently calls Cincinnati, Ohio, home. Visit her online at JennBishop.com.

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Chapter 1 1
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EVERYONE’S GOT A FAVORITE COLOR. A favorite book, band, movie. But what about a favorite sound? For me, that’s the easiest: little kids laughing. A four-year-old absolutely losing it because of something funny I just said? No better sound in the universe.

That’s the thing about little kids. They don’t know how to fake it yet. There’s nothing they’re hiding beneath the surface. No tricks, no secrets.

I’ve got my head ducked down below the library’s puppet stage in the corner of the children’s room, right by the new picture books, and I’m using my very best performer voice. “Zombie Goldilocks thought Papa Bear’s bowl of brains was too hot.” With my right hand, I make the zombified Goldilocks puppet spit out brains in every direction. “Pttew. Pttew.”

The little kids giggle. One of them maybe even snorts.

“But Mama Bear’s bowl of brains was too …” I wait for one of the kids to chime in.

“Stinky!” a girl in the front yells out—I think it’s Claire, but I can’t tell for sure with my head ducked down. The other kids around her laugh and laugh.

I stick my head up for a second and catch the children’s librarian, Mrs. Eisenberg, smiling in her rocking chair, just past the rainbow rug the kids are sitting on.

“Her brains were too stinky. Pee-yew! But then Goldilocks found Baby Bear’s bowl of brains, and it was …”

“Just! Right!” they yell out together.

Smiling makes it hard for me to do this voice, so I try super hard to keep a straight face.

Now, it’s one thing to zombify Xander’s bedtime stories. Of course my brother’s going to find it funny. But I didn’t know how well it’d work for other kids until that time last summer when Mrs. Eisenberg asked me to fill in for her. But afterward she said that if I wanted, I could do it more often. She said it showed ingenuity. Whatever. All I know is it makes the kids laugh. And that it’s the kind of thing Dad used to do for me when I was little. Of course he was good at telling stories. Wasn’t that what he was doing the whole time? Our whole lives a big fairy tale, him pretending everything was perfect—fine—when obviously it wasn’t.

There. Now the smile is gone.

“When Papa Bear came home, he saw the empty bowl. ‘Now, who ate my brains?’?”

I peek again and catch Demaris in the front row, picking his nose. I push Papa Bear out like he’s going to leap off the stage. “Was it you, Demaris?”

Demaris’s finger flies out of his nostril so fast. “Noooooo!” He giggles.

“Was it … Abigail?”

Shy Abigail’s lips are zipped.

“It was you, wasn’t it? It’s always the quiet ones. I’m onto you.”

For the past two weeks, I’ve been trying different ways to get her to participate, but each time, no dice. Come on, Abigail.

“Nah,” I say. “You’re right. You’re not a fan of brains. Your favorite food is probably more like … hmm … boogers?”

“No, it’s not,” Abigail says. “It’s pizza!”

“Well then, who on earth came in here and ate all my brains?”

The kids crack up. For a second, I sort of feel for the dude. If someone barged into my house and ate all my favorite food, I’d probably be annoyed like Papa Bear too.

As I’m finishing up with “Zombie Goldilocks,” Mrs. Eisenberg mouths that she’s heading upstairs. I nod to show her I have things under control down here and reach for the Little Red Riding Hood puppet that I turned into a vampire.

“Once upon a time, there was a liiiittle vampire …” The kids stop fidgeting the second I show them Little Red with her painted-on fangs.

By the time I’m wrapping up the story, all the moms and dads and babysitters have come down with their coffees and warm cookies from the new café upstairs, ready to take their kids home for naps and lunch. I’m picking up half-scribbled-on coloring sheets left on the tables when all of a sudden I catch something out of the corner of my eye. A girl. She’s about my age, with short blond hair that ends at her chin and bright red glasses. She’s sitting at one of the tables. When’d she come down here?

I walk over to her. “If you’re looking for the teen room, it’s upstairs. You take a right past the café and it’s—”

“I’m not looking for the teen room,” she says. Her voice is quiet and it’s only when she opens her mouth that I notice how frowny it is.

I glance back at the puppet stage. Did she come in while I was doing the show? Wait—tell me she wasn’t listening when I did that insane grandma voice in Vampire Little Red Riding Hood? I’m half-ready to dart behind the puppet stage and never come out again.

The best part about the children’s room is that no one my age ever comes down here. Not since they put in the teen room upstairs and the café across from it. Down here I’m safe.

Just then the elevator door opens and out comes Mrs. Eisenberg holding a large stack of cardboard boxes that looks like it’s about to topple over. I hustle to help her before the boxes fall to the ground.

“Thanks, Drew. Always coming to my rescue.” Mrs. Eisenberg beams at me.

As we’re putting the boxes down next to her desk, Mrs. Eisenberg spies the girl who overheard my whole story-hour routine. “Oh my gosh!” She laughs. “You startled me. Audrey, right?”

The girl—Audrey, I guess—nods.

“I almost forgot all about you, Miss Audrey. I see you’ve met our Drew. He’s been helping me out in the library for the past three summers now.”

Audrey gives me a funny stare and it’s like I can read her mind. I know what she’s thinking—there’s got to be something seriously wrong with a twelve-year-old boy who chooses to hang out in the library’s children’s room all summer.

“Audrey’s going to be working with you this summer, Drew. Her family just moved to town and her mother’s up in circulation. Janet, isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

I don’t care who Audrey’s mother is upstairs. I need to rewind to hear what Mrs. Eisenberg just said. Someone else my age? Working down here? With me? For the whole summer?

“Drew, can you show Audrey how to cut out name tags so we can get ahead for the rest of the week?”

“Suuuure.”

Audrey shuffles behind me as I point out where Mrs. Eisenberg keeps all the different colors of construction paper, plus the stencils and scissors, and where she taped up a chart showing which name tags go with which theme for story hour.

“That all make sense?” I ask.

“It’s cutting out name tags,” she mutters. “Not exactly rocket science.” Under her breath she adds, “I can’t believe they stuck me in the children’s room.”

What I want to say is, no, of course it’s not the best part of helping...

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Verlag
Aladdin
Erscheinungsdatum
2020
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1534440976
ISBN 13 
9781534440975
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
336
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Verantwortliche Person
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