As Simple as It Seems by Sarah Weeks

By Sarah Weeks

Verbena Colter is familiar with she's undesirable information. difficulty from the get-go. How might she no longer be, with mom and dad like hers? Her mom virtually pickled her earlier than she was once even born, leaving Verbie to fight with the results of fetal alcohol syndrome. And her father used to be simply undeniable suggest. Verbie needs she will be anyone, anyone except who she is. input Pooch, a flatlander boy traveling for the summer time. whilst Pooch and his mother hire the home round the corner, Verbie takes the chance to be another individual solely. And what begins out as a video game leads Verbie right into a remarkable and heartwarming trip of self-discovery. one other gem from the writer of So B. It.

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She reached into a box of cheese crackers that was sitting open on the counter and popped a few into her mouth. ” I was sitting on the couch in the family room, off the kitchen, still in my nightgown. There were Sunday morning cartoons flickering on the television with the sound turned off. My mother came over and stood behind me, resting her hands on my shoulders. There was orange cheese-cracker dust on her fingers. ” she asked. ” I shouted, shrugging out from under her touch. ” “You might feel better if you got some fresh air.

I’m going up to my room to read,” I said, getting off the couch. ” my mother asked, springing into full-blown fuss mode. “’Cause if you need one, we can go into town and swing by the library—no wait, it’s not open today. We’ll see if they have anything at Peck’s instead—a paperback, or maybe you’d like a magazine. Afterward we can stop and get manicures. ” She reached for the phone, and before I could stop it, the lava overflowed inside me and I was yelling again. “What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?

There’s a good chance I would have spent my whole life in the dark if I hadn’t found the square red envelope addressed to Grace Kincaid tucked into the pocket of my mother’s wool coat one afternoon about a week before my eleventh birthday. ” I asked, holding the envelope out to my mother. She was standing in the kitchen slicing apples for a pie, a mound of curled green peelings tangled like snakes on the counter beside her. When she saw what I was holding, she turned white as a sheet. ” she asked.

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