Verwandte Artikel zu Grumbones

Grumbones - Softcover

Bennett, Jenn

 
9781665930321: Grumbones
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1665930322 ISBN 13: 9781665930321
Verlag: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

Pixar’s Coco meets Neil Gaiman in this “terrifically eerie and atmospheric…a skillful mix of scary, sweet, and silly” (Booklist) middle grade novel about a girl whose quest to ensure her deceased grandmother is resting peacefully leads her to the magical and perilous kingdoms of the underworld.

Everyone in Whispering Pines knows their town is full of ghosts, but Helena Novak hasn’t seen a trace of her late grandmother, Babi. Helena and her best friend, Ben, spend most of their free time in the cemetery, yet no amount of gifts on Babi’s grave has lured her spirit out. But someone else has been paying attention.

Helena feels she’s being followed, and one day, all Babi’s grave gifts disappear. When Helena and Ben investigate, they find a secret door in a crypt that leads to the underworld itself. The sprawling subterranean world is a maze of eerie kingdoms, piercing castles, creepy forests, swirling seas, and crowded marketplaces full of unsavory characters. While the living can visit, if they get lost—or taken by the mysterious Nightmare—they won’t be able to leave. Despite the danger, Helena is set on finding her grandmother and seeing for herself that Babi is doing well in this strange place.

So when eccentric underworld guide Grumbones offers to help Helena and Ben find their way, they think it’s their lucky break. Sure, he looks like Santa’s skinny evil brother and some of the memento mori spilling out of his pockets look awfully familiar, but better a slightly suspicious helper than none at all…right?

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jenn Bennett is an award-winning author of young adult books, including The Prince of Mourning, Starry Eyes, The Lady Rogue, Always Jane, and Alex, Approximately and the middle grade novels Grumbones and The Knight Thieves. She also writes historical romance and fantasy for adults. Her books have earned multiple starred reviews, won the Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award, and been included on Publishers Weekly’s Best Books annual list. She currently lives near Atlanta with one husband and two dogs.

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Chapter 1: Goth Girl CHAPTER 1 Goth Girl
Image

Icouldn’t remember how many times I’d been called “Haunted Helena.”

I’d been hearing it my whole life. Practically an eternity. So it was pretty much a given that the minute I rode into town with my folks that morning, it would start up again.

Everyone in Forlorn calls me haunted. And sure, I spend a lot of time at the cemetery. I have my reasons. I also know more about the afterlife than any of my sixth-grade teachers. But I never really wanted to see an actual ghost until my grandma died. Not really.

“I think we’re all ready to head into town. Jacket, glasses, keys—where are my keys?” Mom patted her heavy-duty bib overalls in her usual state of morning chaos, unaware of my plans. “Adam? Do you have the tugboat keys?”

Dad grunted from beneath his graying beard that foggy Saturday morning. He’s tall, like my grandmother was, and they had the same eyes. My dad’s a salvage diver, and my mom pilots their tugboat while he dives off the coast.

As he buttoned a flannel shirt over his black wet suit, he gestured toward the coffee table. “Truck keys.”

He wasn’t big on talking. Divers didn’t need to say much underwater.

“No, the tugboat keys,” Mom said, making a little boat shape with her hands. “Am I having a conversation with myself? Hello? Self? How are you?” Mom made talking-head shapes with her hands and answered in a goofy voice: “I’m great, but no one listens to me. How ’bout you?”

“Mom, they’re on the peg by the door,” I said, standing on the toes of my red rain boots to retrieve the keys while two shaggy dogs watched. A third dog was asleep in the corner. “See? Right here, under this helpful sign that says ‘Keys.’ Imagine that!” I tossed them to her.

“Eww, I don’t like sassy Helena.” Mom scrunched up her nose as she caught the keys. “Go fetch sweet Helena, wouldya? I want to play with her instead.”

“?‘Sweet Helena,’?” I mumbled while slipping into my black storm jacket. “Sounds like a cursed porcelain doll that comes to life at night and terrifies people in their beds.” I didn’t feel very sweet that morning. I was too anxious about what I was going to attempt that day and hoping she didn’t notice what I’d stashed inside my inner jacket pocket. If she did, I’d have to tell her what it was for, and she’d ground me. That couldn’t happen today of all days.

Because here’s the thing. When people call you haunted all your life, you start to wonder what’s possible. Life, death, and all things supernatural… I thought about them a lot. And I really wanted to see my dead grandmother again.

Just for a moment!

And yes, I was talking about seeing her honest-to-goodness spirit from the afterworld, not some hokey vision of her face briefly appearing in the melted butter on my pancakes like some people “see” their long-lost uncle or an angel.

No, I wanted to talk to my actual grandma again. And according to everything she’d told me while she was still alive, I should’ve been able to do just that….

“If you need me, talk to me like you’ve heard me talking to your grandfather,” she’d told me last year. “Talking to the dead only requires a memento and a special summons.”

Grandpa Novak had died before I was born, but that hadn’t stopped my grandma from chatting with him every night in her bedroom using an old army photo of his. So, yeah, I guess you might say that my entire family was a little strange.

I’d been called worse.

So had my Babi—that’s short for “babicka,” which means “grandma” in Czech—aka the best grandma in Oregon. But the truth is, not everyone loved her like I did. She’d been a florist who’d specialized in funeral arrangements and had had a reputation for being what my mom politely called “stern” but what our next-door neighbor Mrs. Whitehouse impolitely called “a holy terror.” My Babi had had a rough life. I guess that had made her a little cranky sometimes.

But never to me. I was her sweet Helenka, and she was my fierce and loving protector.

We were a team. She was my “person.” We shared a bond that couldn’t be broken.

Not even in death.

So I did as she’d instructed: every day, I went into her bedroom, sat before a framed photo of the two of us together, and spoke the special summons out loud:

Together before, together again.

And I waited for her to appear. I waited and waited…. I waited to see her crooked smile (some would say “snarl”) and to hear that croaky voice of hers that I loved so much.

But… no ghost. Ever. No cold spot in the hallway where my father was currently dragging his oxygen diving tanks. No moving shadow in the corner under the key rack near the front door. Just a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something wasn’t right.

But there was also something very important I needed to talk to Babi about that I hadn’t gotten to tell her before she’d died. I’m talking highest level of concern. Which is why I decided to do something drastic.

Something desperate.

And because it was so extreme, I didn’t dare tell my parents. Even if they had shared my enthusiasm for talking to ghosts—and they did not, I promise you—they wouldn’t just have grounded me. They’d have forbidden me to ever go to the cemetery again if they knew what I had planned.

Which made me so anxious, I’d had to pee three times already.

But that morning, Mom was oblivious to the reason for my uneasy mood. “Well, daughter of mine, you’re going to have to take your scary-doll routine on the road if you want a ride into town this morning. Move your buns! That goes for people and dogs.”

Herding the dogs was my responsibility, so I called them, and we headed through the stained-glass front door. First outside was Ike the Third, my grandma’s old dog, a big midnight-black mutt. She’d named all her dogs Ike. The other dogs that followed I’d named by size. Big. Little. Tiny. Those three we were only fostering until someone adopted them.

Ever since Babi had died, I kept finding shaggy stray dogs, so I kept bringing them home.

The house was getting full, but they were good company, and I didn’t have many friends.

Just the one, to be honest. Ben. My best friend since forever. But things had been a little weird between us lately.

My phone buzzed with a text from him: Ubarube yuboubu stubill cubomubing?

That was our secret SOS code from when we were both Junior Coastal Rangers. It was really just Ubbi Dubbi, but I was nearly positive my parents didn’t know what that was, so we continued to use it for texting.

I texted him back: Ubon my wubay

All settled. I was glad he’d agreed to do this with me. It was hard to coordinate stuff with him lately, him with all his clubs, and me with all my… glooming around. I pocketed my phone and herded the dogs toward the driveway.

“Let’s go, Shag Pack,” I told them,...

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Verlag
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1665930322
ISBN 13 
9781665930321
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
320
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Simon and Schuster Netherlands BV, GPSR Europäische Union
info@simonandschuster.nl

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