Middle Grade Fantasy
Hardcover & ebook, 352 pages
July 26th 2016 by Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Sandra Evans is a writer and teacher from the Pacific Northwest. Her forthcoming middle grade novel, This is Not a Werewolf Story (Simon & Schuster July 2016), was inspired by her favorite 12th century French tale, Bisclavret, by Marie de France. Born in Washington state, Sandra spent her childhood on U.S. Navy bases from Florida to Hawaii, and returned to the Northwest as a teenager. Since then, she has lived and traveled in France and Europe, but has never strayed far for long from the Puget Sound region.
A hardcover copy of THIS IS NOT A WEREWOLF STORY by Sandra Evans plus Swag
Ends December 16th
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Sparrow is at the Cubs’ table. When he catches my eye he lifts something up in the air.
“Raul!” he shouts across the room. “Dean Swift says I can keep the bone!”
I give him a thumbs up.
Mary Anne smiles. I feel proud. I’m glad she can see that the little kids like me, at least.
“Tell them,” Sparrow hollers. He waggles his hand at the little boys sitting with him. “They don’t believe me. Tell them it’s a monster that eats PE teachers. Tell them how all I found was some tennis shoes and a whistle,” he says. “And a bone.”
“A human bone?” Little John tilts his head and looks from me to Sparrow.
Sparrows nods solemnly but says, “No. Dean Swift says it was a dog bone.”
Sparrow doesn’t lie. He embellishes. “And, it is very stinky in that tunnel. Like the catbox at my granma’s house.” He crinkles his nose. “Ask Raul. He was there. He said it smells like Mr. Tuffman’s breath.”
The Cubs love it. They laugh and laugh.
Little John points at me. “You should talk more. You’re funny.”
Mary Anne has been following the whole crazy conversation. “Yeah,” she says. “You should talk more.”
I’m so happy I can’t even smile. Mary Anne wants more words from me. Mary Anne.
But then I freeze. I feel someone looking at me. And I know who it is before I even see him. When I look he’s staring at me. Mr. Tuffman.
Maybe he didn’t hear?
His jaw moves. His eyes are small. He didn’t miss a word. And Mr. Tuffman doesn’t want any more.