By Dana Reinhardt
Drew's a little bit a loner. She has a puppy rat, her lifeless dad's e-book of Lists, an encyclopedic wisdom of cheese from operating at her mom's cheese store, and a overwhelm on Nick, the surf bum who works in the back of the counter. it is the summer season prior to 8th grade and Drew's days appear like enterprise as traditional, until eventually one evening after ultimate time, whilst she meets an odd boy within the alley named Emmett Crane. Who he's, why he is there, the place the minimize on his cheek got here from, and his bottomless wisdom of rats are all mysteries Drew will untangle as they're drawn nearer jointly, and Drew enters into the 1st precise friendship, and event, of her life.
From the Hardcover edition.
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Extra resources for The Summer I Learned to Fly
She was a good girl. A careful girl. And now she’d gone and wound up in a Dumpster. I weighed my options. Running around front for my bike would bring me too close to the Dumpster and the whispering. Better to leave my bike and run like crazy in the opposite direction. I was fast. My already-long legs were getting longer, or else I wouldn’t have been able to see in this back window without standing on my toes. But I didn’t move. I was frozen in place, with my face pressed against the glass. More whispering.
I thought the girls who smoked cigarettes outside the minimart looked foolish, like kids who walk around in their mothers’ high heels. I made every choice carefully. Until the afternoon Nick Drummond pulled up on his lime-green Vespa and offered me a ride, and without hesitating, for fear he might change his mind and speed off without me, I said yes. We were only three blocks from the shop, so I didn’t need a ride. Need wasn’t the point. He never wore a helmet, so he didn’t have one to offer me, and even this didn’t give my careful heart pause, because without a helmet, somebody might actually know it was me riding around on the back of Nick Drummond’s Vespa.
When I thought of him, which wasn’t often, I didn’t think of that picture. I thought instead of the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. A creaky shell of a man with no heart at all. But then I found his Book of Lists, and he slowly came to life again. Careers I Never Want to Attempt: coal miner, executioner, proctologist. ) Pet Peeves: people who have pet peeves. Greatest Loves: my electric blue Schwinn Cruiser, my cream-colored Fender Telecaster, my Lizzie Aberdeen Solo, and our little Birdie. Two things occurred to me, studying these lists.