Hope Is a Ferris Wheel
90 pages
English

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90 pages
English

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Description

Ten-year-old Star Mackie lives in a trailer park with her flaky mom and her melancholy older sister, Winter, whom Star idolizes. Moving to a new town has made it difficult for Star to make friends, when her classmates tease her because of where she lives and because of her layered blue hair. But when Star starts a poetry club, she develops a love of Emily Dickinson and, through Dickinson's poetry, learns some important lessons about herself and comes to terms with her hopes for the future. With an unforgettable voice with a lot of heart, Hope Is a Ferris Wheel is the story of a young girl who learns to accept her family and herself while trying to make sense of the world around her.Praise for Hope is a Ferris WheelSTARRED REVIEW Herrera's first novel is quite accomplished, with plenty of heart and humor, especially apparent in the spelling assignments Star has to complete but refuses to turn in, as she uses them as a sort of journal. Star is a unique, determined, and loving child making the best of a bad situation; readers cannot help but root for her. --School Library Journal, starred review Well-constructed, thought-provoking and appealing, this first effort bodes well for the author's future. --Kirkus Reviews In her debut, Herrera has created a delightful narrator with a memorable voice and surrounded her with a unique supporting cast. Got fans of Joan Bauer in your neck of the woods? Send them this way. --Booklist A tender and truthful novel that addresses stereotypes without promising easy answers or cookie-cutter closure. --Publishers Weekly First-time author Herrera, telling the story from Star's point of view, gives readers a front-row seat to all the embarrassment and angst of Star's jumbled lifeand all of the triumphs. Here's hoping we hear more from this author. --The Horn Book Magazine Star's contemplation, through poetic metaphors and real-life relationships, of what really matters in her life is compelling. Additionally, the poetry angle offers food for thought for those just coming to understand the power and purpose of metaphor, and Star's vocabulary assignments, occasionally interspersed between chapters, provide inspiration and entertainment for word-lovers. --Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books

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Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 11 mars 2014
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781613126578
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0705€. 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 are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Herrera, Robin. Hope is a ferris wheel/Robin Herrera. pages cm Summary: After moving from Oregon to a trailer park in California, ten-year-old Star participates in a poetry club, where she learns some important lessons about herself and her own hopes and dreams for the future. ISBN 978-1-4197-1039-1 (alk. paper) [1. Trailer camps-Fiction. 2. Poetry-Fiction. 3. Clubs-Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.H432136Ho 2014 [Fic]-dc23 2013026392
Text copyright 2014 Robin Herrera Book design by Maria T. Middleton
Dreams from The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes, edited by Arnold Rampersad with David Roessel, Associate Editor, copyright 1994 by the Estate of Langston Hughes. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. Any third party use of this material, outside of this publication, is prohibited. Interested parties must apply directly to Random House LLC for permission.
Published in 2014 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 and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
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.

115 West 18th Street New York, NY 10011 www.abramsbooks.com
TO MY SISTER, JESSICA: OLDER, WISER, INFINITELY COOLER -R. H.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
Acknowledgments
About the Author
E veryone at Pepperwood Elementary knows that I live in Treasure Trailers, in the pink-tinted trailer with the flamingo hot-glued to the roof. The problem is, I only told four girls, the ones who were standing by me the first time we lined up for recess.
Isn t that next to the dump? one of them asked.
Well, there s a fence, I told them.
The third one behind me scowled and said, My mom says only drug addicts live there.
There re no drug addicts, I said. Well, maybe there re drug addicts. I haven t met everyone yet.
Hey, said the girl in front of me. She must have overheard. What s the deal with your hair?
Oh, Gloria did it, I said, holding out a strand so she could see the midnight blue streaks. She went to beauty school. I use anti-frizz. I could get you some, I offered. Gloria gets a good discount from Style Cuts, where she works, and she gets the expired stuff for free. We have tons of anti-frizz in the bathroom and practically every kind of conditioner.
No thanks, the girl said. I don t want a mullet.
I heard three distinct giggles behind me. Those three girls were laughing at me. I couldn t believe it.
But then I could, the next day, when everyone in class was asking me for anti-frizz. The thing was, they didn t mean it. I mean, boys were asking me for it, and they couldn t even get through the whole question without breaking into giggles. I had to go look up the word mullet when everyone started saying that, too.
It s not a mullet, I told Winter, the day I found out what one was. Mullets are flat and ugly.
Winter sat me down at our built-in table and combed her fingers through my hair. My hair s so thick, though, that I could hardly even feel it. It s because of all the different lengths, Winter said. It s all short here and long here, so-
It s a layered cut . That s what Gloria called it. Why does everyone think it s a mullet?
Shrugging, Winter headed to the fridge. I mean, it s not like you told them you live in a trailer park, she said, passing me a couple of oranges to peel.
Of course I did.
Star! Winter said as she slammed the fridge door shut. You did not say that.
But-but-what about in Oregon? I asked. No one said I had a mullet there! And no one cared that I lived in a trailer park.
Yeah, because half the kids at school were from the trailer park! Haven t you noticed anything different about California, Star?
Yes, I had. There were no other kids at Treasure Trailers. There were a couple of babies and a million cats, but there was nobody even close to my age.
You re probably the only kid at school who lives in a trailer park, Winter went on. And everyone thinks trailer parks are full of gross people.
I sighed, remembering what that girl s mom had said. Was that what everyone thought? I started peeling the first orange. Winter peels them off in one long piece, but I haven t been able to do that yet. I can only do it with mandarins. So is that why they call me Star Trashy? Because we re next to the dump?
It s because we re trailer trash, Star, Winter said, taking the elastic out of her hair. And Trashy kind of rhymes with Mackie . She shook her head, and all her lovely black curls tumbled down past her shoulders.
It s too bad my hair isn t curly like hers-no one would think I had a mullet then. But I got Mom s thick, straight hair that never needs volumizer. The only good thing about it is that it s naturally black. Winter has to use dye.
Do they call you Winter Trashy at Sarah Borne?
No. You know why? Because no one knows I live in a trailer park. She plucked the orange out of my hand and had it peeled in ten seconds flat. Anyway, even if they did, I doubt they d make fun of me that much. There re plenty of other delinquents to pick on. The pregnant girls get teased the most.
You re not a delinquent, I said.
Yes, but I still go to delinquent school, she said, and she started working on the second orange. I asked if they were going to let her take a creative writing class this semester, but she just scoffed, shaking her head. They had to cancel the class. They were three students short of the minimum.
That was too bad. I knew how much Winter wanted to take that class. It was the only thing she d been looking forward to once Mom told her she couldn t go back to public school yet. The worst thing was, they wouldn t even let her start a new club, considering how the last one had turned out.
Hey, I said. Maybe I could start a club.
Hey! Winter repeated. Just don t do a writing club, or Mom will burst a blood vessel.
I won t. I ll think of something else. I split the oranges into segments and divided them between us. They were a little old and a little dry, and Mom had accidentally picked up the seeded kind, so we had to spit our seeds out onto the table.
I guess it d be a good way to make friends, Winter said. I mean, I don t talk to anyone from my old writing club anymore, but Frowning, she flicked an orange seed onto the linoleum. I m sure you won t get yourself expelled.
I told her I wouldn t. I have to think of something good, though. A club everyone will want to join. Then they d have to be my friends, or I won t let them in! I pictured everyone s faces and their clasped hands as they pleaded with me. As long as they were really sincere, I d think about letting them join. What do you think- I started to ask Winter, but I was interrupted by the slam of a car door outside.
That was the end of our conversation. Winter raced to the top bunk with her backpack and kicked her combat boots off the side. A few seconds later Mom walked in, loaded down with groceries, followed by Gloria, still in her Style Cuts apron. Heavenly Donuts! Gloria yelled, loudly enough for the whole trailer park to hear. I don t remember it being this cold in Oregon!
Hey, Star, put these away, will you? was the only thing Mom said to me before she noticed Winter. I can see you sulking there, Winter, she said, which I thought was pretty obvious-you can see every inch of the trailer from the front door, except for Mom s room, which Winter wouldn t be in anyway. How was school today?
And just like every day since the end of summer, Winter said nothing.
Mom straightened her glasses and said, I just don t get it, before pulling a pizza out of the freezer. I got it, but I was busy putting the groceries away, and when I finally finished, Mom and Gloria were already talking about some woman who d only tipped Gloria a dollar on a dye job. When I asked if that was bad, they both scoffed and threw their hands up in the air, so I decided to just stay quiet for the rest of the night.
I spend a lot of time at school staring at the back of Denny Libra s head, wishing I had superpowers so my eyes could bore a hole right between his ears and see what Mr. Savage is writing on the whiteboard.
But it s not like Denny doesn t do the same thing to me when he turns around to pass papers back; he glares at my forehead like he s trying to vaporize it. I m sure he d rather look at Delilah Manning, who sits behind me, but is it my fault that Mr. Savage made all the fifth-graders sit alphabetically?
Today was different, though. Staring into the

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