Get a Clue , livre ebook

ABRAMS BOOKS - Schmidt Tiffany Schmidt

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

163 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

The game's afoot in the next book of the Bookish Boyfriends series-this time starring Huck and Winston! After Ms. Gregoire assigns the works of Sherlock Holmes in English class, a mystery deepens at Reginald R. Hero High. Huck and Win-Curtis's younger brother-team up to solve the case . . . and while the sleuths gather clues, another swoon-worthy romance blooms in the school halls. Perfect for younger readers of YA or older readers of middle grade, this squeaky-clean series is sure to charm any reader who's ever had a book boyfriend of their own.

Informations

Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	19 janvier 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781683357087
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0450€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-3968-2 eISBN 9781683357087
Text copyright 2021 Tiffany Schmidt
Lettering copyright 2021 Danielle Kroll
Book design by Brenda E. Angelilli
Published in 2021 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.
Amulet Books is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com

1
Boredom is a sign of a lazy mind.
This was my dad s catchphrase during rainy weekends, snow days, and the long afternoons I d spent rinkside while my older brother, Miles, played hockey. He said it whenever I complained that there was nothing to do, adding, There s always something to do if you use your imagination.
But Dad had never been in Mr. Milverton s Earth Science class. Imagination can take you only so far in a room with drawn shades and bare walls, where the closest thing I had to entertainment was timing how long it took my teacher to monotone Four legs on the floor if I tipped my chair back.
I yawned without bothering to hide it. Mr. Milverton was never going to like me-and not because of chair tipping. I d ensured his loathing in October when I causally mentioned an upcoming pop quiz to a few classmates.
When we d shown up prepared and anticipating it, he d marched me to the headmaster s office and accused me of looking in his planbook.
I hadn t. And my suggestion that planning online would be more secure and eco-friendly hadn t been well received. Neither had my explanation of his tell: the day before pop quizzes, he chewed his mustache and said, Looking forward to class tomorrow.
So, yeah. I was not in contention for teacher s pet.
That would be Bancroft. He was a solid B student. The sort who tried, but not too hard. What he lacked in studiousness, he made up for in toothy grins and answers like, I m not sure. What do you think, Mr. M? He d fist-bump on the way out of class and say, Cool lecture today, Milvernator, and our teacher would flush flattered pink from the top of his sweater vest to the roots of his gray hair.
In all fairness, the role of favorite should ve gone to Clara Highbury. In other classes she was a people pleaser. Here, she veered into try-hard . She volunteered to distribute materials, was the first to jump up and shut off the lights when Mr. Milverton used the projector-despite her seat being dead center of the classroom. One row over and one seat back from mine. My best friend, Rory Campbell-well, really one of my only friends, but regardless, she was The Best-sat in front of her. And every time Clara s eager hand shot up, Rory s brown hair swished from the momentum. Like I said: Clara should ve been the favorite.
But Mr. Milverton didn t call on her. Her persistent attempts to participate made him purse his lips and look away. I d been keeping track in my notebook for a week. In that time he d asked fifty-seven students for answers. Only fourteen had been girls. Only once had it been Clara. Those statistics were grimmer once I factored in our class size of twelve. And it was a fifty-fifty split between those identifying as guy or girl.
See, Dad, I wasn t lazy. Since nothing in this class had been stimulating, I was keeping my mind busy with my own projects. Or . . . trying to. I yawned into my collar and looked around.
Gemma sat behind me. Her nails were bitten down again, which meant she d broken up with her sometimes-girlfriend from Aspen Crest Academy. Dante was totally checked out. He had his phone under the desk and based on the airline app he had open was leaving a day early for spring break. His flight to Vail left at ten thirty. First class.
I wasn t going anywhere. My parents were college professors. Their spring break didn t match mine. Even if it had, our vacations were road trips and bargain-hunted hotels. They didn t involve boarding passes, or first class, or jet lag.
Dante clicked to a map of ski slopes. In front of him, Bancroft was stealthily scrolling his iLive page on his phone. No, wait. It was Elinor s iLive page he was scoping. She, sitting in front of Rory, was oblivious to his interest. When she wasn t typing notes, she was using her stylus to doodle hearts on her screen-while staring at Umberto on her left.
Mr. Milverton cleared his throat. Who can tell me -Clara s hand shot into the air- which scale measures the intensity of an earthquake from one, microseismic, to ten, extremely high intensity tremor?
He ignored her and pointed at me. Mr. Baker?
The answer came from a sidebar in last night s reading. I m sure most of my classmates had skipped it. Besides Clara, obviously. And me. I lifted my chin. The Rossi-Forel scale.
He nodded and pointed at Umberto. What s the difference between P and S waves?
I was off the hook until next class, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had the data in my notebook. Now I wanted proof.
Unfortunately, these desks were not designed for anyone taller than five six. After last spring s growth spurts, I was five inches past fitting and could barely wedge the phone underneath. I shifted my knee so the camera wasn t filming the pen marks on the bottom of my desk. The back of Elinor s head came into view, along with Mr. Milverton s profile.
Who can tell me what an L wave is?
I panned the classroom, catching the swish of Rory s hair as Clara s hand rocketed up. After a two-second delay, Dante raised his and was called on immediately.
Mr. Milverton had Atticus answer next-he hadn t even raised his hand. He never did. It never stopped Milverton from calling on him. Even when Atti was sleeping, Mr. Milverton would have someone poke him awake and repeat the question.
Clara added a soft Oh! the next time she raised her hand, but it was Gemma s bitten nails he pointed to.
By the end of class I d added another nine tallies to the Questions Asked column. Another seven to Boys. Neither of the remaining two were Clara, but she d made Rory s hair swing all nine times.
Mr. Milverton dismissed us, saying, Some of you might want to review that reading.
It was his new tell-and not even a subtle one. We d be having a pop quiz tomorrow.
Highbury, I called.
Clara stepped to the side of the hall. Hey, Huck. Are you coming to the meeting today? Gemma will be there. Hannah and Sera and Shi-
I shook my head, but flashed some dimples to soften the no. I d get to a Hero High Pride meeting one of these weeks, but as much as I appreciated Clara being a good ally, this time I wanted to help her , not the other way around. Aren t you mad Mr. Milverton doesn t call on you?
Clara was fair. Her blond hair was lighter than mine, and hers rotated from curly to straight on an alternating-day schedule. She was the type of girl who color-coordinated her notebooks to the covers she put on her textbooks and her glittery nails to her sparkly shoes. The type who greeted everyone with a smile, even if she hated them.
She didn t hate me-we got along pretty well-but she d hated that question. I m not the only one in class. Her smiled dropped. Why do you want to know? I didn t ask for your help.
Right. That was my biggest problem with Hero High: It was the last day of February, and I d been attending since the first day in September, but no one here asked for my help. Back at my old school I d been that person-the one everyone turned to. Want to take him to prom? I ll come up with a promposal. Need to get on a teacher s good side? I knew the specialty coffee in their travel mug. After-school job? The hardware store was hiring or the Bensens needed a babysitter. I knew everyone s pronouns, their crushes, their best and weakest classes-I was a matchmaker for romance, tutoring, and more. Mr. Gershwin had me help pick the school musical. Coach Mortimer came to me when she needed a team manager. Principal Bellinger consulted me about school morale and rumors.
Here, I had no purpose. Clara was already the Hero High fixer. I was the new kid.
What are you two up to? Rory must ve noticed we weren t following her and doubled back to find us.
Nothing, Clara said. Huck was offering his help with something, but I m fine. I don t need it.
I didn t miss how her gaze and voice hardened, but they were like waving red before a bull. She might not think she needed my help, but she was wrong. What was happening was wrong .
I blurted, There s going to be a pop quiz tomorrow.
Rory groaned. Another one?
Clara looked over her shoulder at the classroom door and dropped her voice. You re going to get us all in trouble. If you want to cheat, keep me out of it.
It s not cheating. It s observation.
But before I could clarify, a booming Huckleberry! resounded down the hall.
Hero High had all sorts of private school traditions, from the basic-uniforms, small classes, people with posh backpacks and fancy vacation homes-to the things that made the school unique, like mosaic tiles embedded all over campus as tribute to the school s founding donor, Reginald R. Hero, a famous artisan tile maker. But my favorite tradition was the Knight Lights program.
When I moved from Ohio to Pennsylvania in August,