“She’s mentally retarded. Her testing showed she is slower than her fellow classmates.” I looked up at my mother expectantly, on edge, eager to witness the fire that was blazing in her eyes burn down the smug principal in defense of her poor fourth grade cub. I was dumbfounded when the fire in her eyes sparked out and was slowly replaced with the gloomy grey clouds of doubt. I returned my attention to the book in my lap, one the principal had stated I memorized because she knew I couldn’t read it with my limited mental capacities. It was at this moment that I knew adults could be bullies also.
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Caine does a wonderful job of sucking her reader in and forcing them to hang on for dear life on this roller roaster ride. I laughed out loud much to the chagrin of my fellow library patrons, or students, if you will. I cried during a few tense moments, where the action literally took my breath away, and during a moment of such utter sadness I had to remind myself that I was reading fiction. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt just as bad. I simply cannot wait until the next book is out and I can get my hungry little fingers on it. On that glorious day, I will feel the beautiful weight of that original and be tempted to “lick” away the ink from the page. (If you read the novel this makes more sense.)
Having been an avid reader of YA literature for the past five years, side effect…
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