Showing posts with label Melody Carlson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Melody Carlson. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Spring Breakdown by Melody Carlson

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


Spring Breakdown (Carter House Girls)

Zondervan (February 1, 2010)

***Special thanks to Bridgette Brooks of ZONDERKIDZ for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Melody Carlson has written more than 200 books for teens, women, and children. Before publishing, Melody traveled around the world, volunteered in teen ministry, taught preschool, raised two sons, and worked briefly in interior design and later in international adoption. "I think real-life experiences inspire the best friction," she says. Her wide variety of books seems to prove this theory.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (February 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 031071494X
ISBN-13: 978-0310714941

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER: Just press the button!





Dynamic Uno here:  Spring Break is just around the corner and the Carter House Girls are going to Palm Beach, Florida for their vacation!  Although Mrs. Carter reminds them that it will be a "working vacation" since they will need to model a new fashion designer's swimwear line while they are there, the girls are excited about getting the chance to have some fun in the sun while they're there.  After meeting a charming college student from Princeton on the plane, they arrive at the general's Palm Beach house and the girls quickly choose their rooms.  Eliza and Casey decide to room together--which is definitely a new development, so Taylor and DJ room up, leaving Rhiannon to have a room all to herself.  After a day of exploring Palm Beach, the boys arrive at Lane's grandparent's house and things quickly turn to chaos.  Lane decides to break-up with Eliza because of some of her selfish decisions and things go quickly from bad to worse.  Eliza sneaks off on a mysterious date and doesn't return to the house.  Has she gone off to pout for a few days, holing herself up in a five-star hotel, or has something more serious happened to the heiress?  You'll have to read Spring Breakdown (Carter House Girls #7) by Melody Carlson to find out! 

I must admit, I've been looking forward to reading more about the girls in the Carter House Girls series because I feel like I know the characters so well.  Mainly because I work with teenagers, but also because the characters are so well written, that I've been engrossed in their lives since they arrived at Mrs. Carter's house.  Since their Senior year is close to an end, I'm sure that the series will reach it's end as well, but I'm glad that there's a few more books before that happens.  Let me know what you think of Spring Breakdown by Melody Carlson.  Happy Reading!

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Wild Card Tour: New York Debut by Melody Carlson

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


New York Debut (Carter House Girls)

Zondervan (May 1, 2009)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Over the years, Melody Carlson has worn many hats, from pre-school teacher to youth counselor to political activist to senior editor. But most of all, she loves to write! Currently she freelances from her home. In the past ten years, she has published more than a hundred books for children, teens, and adults, with sales totaling more than 2.5 million and many titles appearing on the ECPA Bestsellers List.

Several of her books have been finalists for, and winners of, various writing awards including The Gold Medallion, The Christy, and The Rita Award. And most recently she is in the process of optioning some of her books for film rights.
She has two grown sons and lives in Central Oregon with her husband and chocolate lab retriever. They enjoy skiing, hiking, gardening, camping and biking in the beautiful Cascade Mountains.


Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 224 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (May 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310714931
ISBN-13: 978-0310714934

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


“Where is Taylor?” asked Grandmother as she drove DJ home from the airport.
”Is she coming on a later flight?”

DJ hadn’t told her the whole story yet. In fact, she hadn’t said much of anything to Grandmother at all during the past week, except to leave a message saying that she’d changed her flight and planned to be home two days earlier than expected. Obviously, Grandmother had assumed that Taylor had changed her plans as well.

“Taylor’s in LA,” DJ said slowly, wishing she could add something to that, something to deflect further questioning.

“Visiting her father?”

“No…”

“Touring with Eva?”

“No…”
“What then?” Grandmother’s voice was getting irritated as she drove away from the terminal. “Where is the girl, Desiree? Speak up.”

“She’s in rehab.”

“Rehab?” Grandmother turned to stare at DJ with widened eyes. “Whatever for?”

“For alcohol treatment.”

Grandmother seemed stunned into speechlessness, which was a relief since DJ didn’t really want to discuss this. She was still trying to grasp the whole strange phenomenon. It was hard to admit, but the past few days of being mostly by herself in Las Vegas had been lonely and depressing and one of the reasons she’d been desperate to change her flight and come home early. She had really missed Taylor. The hardest part was when she discovered that Taylor wasn’t allowed any communication from outside the rehab facility. This concerned DJ. No cell phone calls, email, or anything. It seemed weird. Although DJ was praying for her roommate, she was worried. What if it wasn’t a reputable place? What if Taylor never came back? What if something bad happened to her? Not only would DJ blame herself, she figured everyone else would too.

Finally Grandmother spoke. “Did you girls get into some kind of trouble in Las Vegas, Desiree?”

“No…”

“I want you to be honest with me. Did something happen to precipitate this?”

“The only thing that happened is that Taylor came to grips with the fact that she has a serious drinking problem. If you’ll remember, I tried to let you in on this some time ago.”

“Yes, I remember the vodka bottle. I simply assumed it was a one-time occurrence.”

“I told you otherwise.”

“Well, I know that girls will be girls, Desiree. You can’t have spent as much time as I in the fashion industry and not know this.”

“Were you ever like that?” asked DJ. “I mean that girls will be girls bit?”

Grandmother cleared her throat. “I wasn’t an angel, Desiree, if that’s what you’re hinting at. However, I did understand the need for manners and decorum. I witnessed numerous young women spinning out of control. Beautiful or not, a model won’t last long if she is unable to work.”

“Isn’t that true with everything?”

“Yes…I suppose. How long is Taylor going to be in…this rehabilitation place?”

“I don’t know. You should probably call her mom.”

“Oh, dear…that’s something else I hadn’t considered. Certainly Eva Perez won’t be blaming me for her daughter’s, well, her drinking problem.”
“Eva is fully aware that Taylor had this drinking problem long before she came to Carter House.”

“Good.” Grandmother sighed and shook her head. “I just hope her treatment won’t prevent her from participating in Fashion Week. That would be a disaster.”

“Seems like it would be a worse disaster if Taylor didn’t get the help she needs.”

“Yes, of course, that goes without saying. But I would think that a week or two should be sufficient. Goodness, just how bad can a problem get when you’re only seventeen?”

DJ shrugged, but didn’t say anything. The truth was she thought it could get pretty bad, and in Taylor’s case it was bad. And it could’ve gotten worse. To think that Taylor had been drinking daily and DJ never even knew it.

“It’s just as well you came home early, Desiree,” said Grandmother as she turned onto the parkway. “Already Casey and Rhiannon are back. And Kriti is supposed to return tomorrow. Eliza will be back on New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t want to stay in France for New Year’s.”

“As am I. If I were over there, I’d certainly have booked a room in Paris. Nothing is more spectacular than fireworks over the City of Light. But apparently Eliza has plans with her boyfriend. Imagine—giving up Paris for your boyfriend!”

Of course, DJ knew that Eliza’s life of lavish luxury didn’t mean all that much to her. Like a poor little rich girl, Eliza wanted a slice of “normal.” Well, normal with a few little extras like good shoes, designer bags, and her pretty white Porsche.

“It’s good to be home,” DJ proclaimed as her grandmother turned into the driveway.

“It’s good to hear you say that,” said Grandmother.

And it was the truth. After a week in Vegas, DJ was extremely thankful to be back. Maybe for the first time, Carter House did feel like a home. She couldn’t wait to see Casey and Rhiannon.

“Welcome back,” called Casey as she opened the door, dashed out onto the porch, and hugged DJ. “Need some help with those bags?”

“Thanks.” DJ studied Casey for a moment, trying to figure out what had changed. “Your hair!”

Casey picked up one of DJ’s bags then grinned as she gave her strawberry blond hair a shake. “Like it?”

“It’s the old you—only better.”

“My mom talked me into it. The black was a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I think you look fantastic. And that choppy layered cut is very cute.”

“Your grandmother approved it too. And I got highlights.”

DJ touched her own hair. “Taylor had been nagging me to get mine redone. But it was so expensive in Vegas. I figured I’d do it here.”

Casey lowered her voice. “So how’d your grandmother take the news about Taylor?”

DJ stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at Casey. “Did Rhiannon tell you everything?”
“Yeah, is it supposed to be a big secret?” Casey made a hurt face now. “I was wondering why you told Rhiannon and not me. I thought we were friends, DJ.”

“I didn’t mean to, but I sort of spilled the beans with Rhiannon because I was so desperate and didn’t know what to do at the time. But then I felt bad. I mean it was possible that Taylor wanted to keep it private, you know?”

Casey nodded somberly. “Yeah, I guess I do know.”

“You should.” After all, it had only been a few months since they had intervened with Casey in regard to her pain pill snitching.

“So, are you saying mum’s the word?”

“Until Taylor comes back. Don’t you think it’s up to her to say something or not?”

“Yeah. I can just imagine Eliza with that tasty little morsel of gossip. It’d be all over the school in no time.”

“Speaking of Eliza, that means Kriti too.”

“Kriti just got here about an hour ago.” Casey paused, nodding toward the room that Kriti and Eliza shared. The taxi dropped her and she went straight to her room. But something seems wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. She just looks different. Kind of unhappy. I mean she didn’t even say hello or anything.”

“Maybe she was missing her family.”

“Maybe, but my guess is it’s something more.”

“We should probably try harder to reach out to her and make her feel at home.”

“You’re here!” Rhiannon burst out of the room and threw her arms around DJ. “Welcome home!”

“Man, it is so good to be back. Vegas—for more than a day or two—is a nightmare.”

“At least you got a tan,” observed Rhiannon. She glanced at Casey. “Both of you, in fact.”

“It’s that California sun.”

“Don’t make me envious,” said Rhiannon.

“Hey, look at you,” said DJ as she noticed that Rhiannon had on a very cool outfit. “Is that new?”

“Old and new. My great aunt gave me some of her old clothes and I’ve been altering them.” She held out her hands and turned around to make the long circular skirt spin out. “Fun, huh?”

“And cool,” said DJ.

“She’s got all kinds of stuff,” said Casey. “Hats and costume jewelry and scarves and things. I told her she should open a retro shop and get rich.”

“Maybe I will someday.”

“Or just sell things here in Carter House,” suggested DJ. “Between Eliza and Taylor’s clothing budget, you could clean up.”

“Oh, yeah, DJ, Conner just called,” said Rhiannon. “They just got back from their ski trip and he said he tried your cell a few times, but it seemed to be turned off.”

“More like dead. My flight was so early this morning, I forgot to charge it.”

“Well, I told him you’d call.”

Casey set DJ’s bag inside her door. “Speaking of boys, I think I’ll check and see how Garrison is doing—find out if he missed me or not.” She touched her hair. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“How could he not,” said Rhiannon. “It’s so cool.”

“Later,” called Casey as she headed for her room.

“So, how’s Taylor?” asked Rhiannon quietly.

“You didn’t tell Kriti, did you?” whispered DJ, pulling Rhiannon into her room then closing the door.

“No, why would I?”

“I just wanted to be sure. I think we need to respect Taylor’s privacy with this.”

“Absolutely. So, have you talked to her?”

“They won’t let me. They have this no communication policy. No email, cell phones…nothing. It’s like a black hole. Weird.”

Rhiannon nodded. “Yeah, it was like that with my mom at first. I think they wanted to keep her cut off from any bad connections. Then after a while, you earn communication privileges.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. I was really worried.”

“I still can hardly believe Taylor went willingly.”

“Yeah, our strong-willed wild child…putting herself into rehab.” DJ shook her head.

“That remind me, Seth has called a few times too. He wanted to know why Taylor’s cell was off and where she was.”

“What’d you say?”

“That I didn’t know.” She shrugged. “Actually, that was the truth.”

“But nothing else?”
“No.”

“Good. I mean it’s not like we need to keep it top secret, but until we hear from Taylor, let’s not talk about it.”

“Sure.” Rhiannon put a hand on DJ’s shoulder. “And don’t worry about her, DJ. She’ll be fine.”
“I know.” DJ nodded as she put her bags on her bed and started to unzip them. But as soon as Rhiannon left, DJ wasn’t so sure. What if Taylor wasn’t fine? What if something had gone wrong? And what if it was all DJ’s fault?



Dynamic Uno here: New York Debut is the 6th book in the Carter House Girls series by Melody Carlson. This book focuses on the girls as they get ready for the fashion show in New York. Mrs. Carter is only taking 8 girls from the weekly fashion classes that have been opened to the public. Will Taylor get released in time, or will Eliza finally take center stage? Kriti is also acting a little weird and the girls have to stage an intervention quickly before she goes too far. You'll have to read the book to find out who's "in" and who's "out" for the New York Debut.

As much as I love Melody Carlson's work and this series, this book was a little cookie cutter for me. The intervention with Kriti seemed a bit contrived and not exactly realistic for someone in that situation. I hope that more is brought up in later books because things were wrapped a bit too neatly. Almost like it was thrown in as an afterthought, or the author changed her mind and decided not to follow that plot for the story. We'll have to keep reading to find out. I will say however, that I was excited to read about Fashion Week and the adventures that the girls had there. It seems like Mrs. Carter is finally taking some much needed responsibility for the girls. I was also happy to read about Taylor's experience in rehab. Hopefully her talk with some of the other characters creates some change within their group. I loved the ending and can't wait to find out the shenanigans the girls get up to in my neck of the woods. Spring Break in Florida anyone??? {grins}

Go out and read New York Debut for yourself. Let me know what you think. Happy Reading!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Wild Card Tour: It's a Green Thing: Diary of a Teenage Girl by Melody Carlson

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


It’s a Green Thing: Diary of a Teenage Girl

Multnomah Books (February 17, 2009)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Melody Carlson is an award-winning, best-selling author of nearly 200 books for teens, women, and children. Before publishing, Melody traveled around the world, volunteered in teen ministry, taught preschool, raised two sons, and worked briefly in interior design and later in international adoption. "I think real-life experiences inspire the best friction," she says. Her wide variety of books seems to prove this theory. She and her husband enjoy an active lifestyle of hiking, camping, and biking in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, where she says, "A new story seems to spring from around every corner."

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 256 pages
Publisher: Multnomah Books (February 17, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1601421184
ISBN-13: 978-1601421180

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


June 9

My cousin Kim gave me a new diary yesterday. She received it for graduation, but she prefers to journal on her computer. “With a security lock, of course,” she confessed. Anyway, this nicely bound book (a green product made of recycled materials) seems to be enticing me to write. Especially since I already filled up my old diary, which is safely hidden away in one of my suitcases tucked into the back of the guest room closet. Okay, as both Kim and my uncle keep telling me, “It’s not the guest room, Maya. It’s your room.” I’m trying to see it that way. But it’s not easy. So much about my life is not easy…but I must admit that it’s getting better. And I do have hope.

Anyway, since today was rather interesting and the beginning of summer vacation, I will start here. Although to get “here,” I need to go back to before the school year ended. I’d been attending Harrison High for several weeks when Mr. Fenton challenged our art class to volunteer for a community project. We’d been invited by the park district to create a mural on a downtown youth center. A lot of kids signed up, and everyone seemed supportive and interested. But today, the first day of the project, Marissa Phillips and I were the only ones to actually show. “It figures,” she said as the two of us stood gazing up at the big, boring wall. The paint was splotchy looking, with random beige smears that resembled a bad case of psoriasis. Probably someone’s attempt to hide the graffiti and tagging, although a few offensive words still showed through.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “That no one else would come.” “Why’s that?” I adjusted the twisted strap of my Osh Kosh overalls. I’d gotten dressed pretty quickly this morning, barely managing to catch the downtown bus. “Because people are basically selfish.” I turned and looked at her. With hands planted on her hips, Marissa stared at the ugly wall and frowned. For some reason, when I first began attending Harrison High, I felt drawn to this girl. Like we shared some commonality. And I suppose we do have some physical similarities. We’re both tall and have long hair, although hers is straight and mine is curly. And because she dyes it black, her hair’s a lot darker than mine. I think that’s why her complexion looks so pale. Whereas mine (thanks to my dad) is the color of café au lait.

But our looks aside, we are similar in other ways too. Or maybe we both just have an attitude. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and has opinions that not everyone shares. She’s two years older than I am. In fact, she just graduated with my cousin Kim. Not that she seems older exactly. Or maybe I just feel older than sixteen. Sometimes I feel like I’m in my thirties. But a hard life can do that to a person.

“So if that’s true,” I asked Marissa, “if people are basically selfish, why are you here?”

She laughed. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew?”

“I’m doing community service.”

“For what?”

“Oh…something that happened a couple of months ago. I guess you hadn’t moved here yet.”

“What did you do?”

“I got caught with alcohol in my car.”

“Driving under the influence?” I knew Marissa was kind of a wild child, but I thought she had more sense than that.

“No.” She shook her head firmly. “I wasn’t under the influence. I was underage.”

“Well, obviously.”

“It didn’t really help much that my dad’s a cop.” She made a face as she reached into her bag and retrieved a pack of cigarettes. She shook one out, quickly lit it, then blew out an exasperated

puff.

“Your dad’s a cop?” Now this caught me off guard. Of all people who might have law enforcement officials in their family, Marissa just doesn’t seem to fit the profile. I can only imagine how frustrated her father must feel.

“Oh yeah…” She peered back at the wall. “In fact it was his recommendation that I spend my summer vacation performing community service. If dear old Dad hadn’t been in court that day, I probably would’ve gotten off a lot easier.”

“You’re doing community service for the whole summer?”

“Yep.” She blew another puff of smoke over her shoulder.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“It was either that or give up my car and move out of the house. And I wasn’t financially ready for that…not just yet.” She took in a slow drag, then looked curiously at me. “So what’s your excuse?”

“Excuse?”

“For being here.”

“You mean because I must be basically selfish too?” She shrugged.

“I just wanted to do it,” I admitted. “I mean, when Mr. Fenton described the project, it sounded kind of fun to help someone else, and he made it seem like it would only take a week.” Marissa laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, right. Think again.” I frowned back up at the wall. “With just the two of us, this mural could end up being your entire summer of community service.”

“I wouldn’t mind so much, except that it’s going to be scorching out here before long, and this wall is in the sun most of the day.” She reached in her bag again, and this time pulled out her cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Friends…Hey, Spencer,” she said warmly. “What’s up, dude?” Then she winked at me. “Well, Maya and I are downtown right now. We volunteered to do this mural project, and we sure could use some big, strong guys to help out.” She smiled knowingly. “Oh yeah, for sure. Maybe you could get Jake to come and help too…No, it’s no big hurry. I mean, we need to kind of figure out

where we’re going with this mural and get the paint and stuff. Maybe not today. But how about tomorrow? First thing in the morning?” She got a catty smile now. “Oh yeah, totally.” Then she hung up.

“Help on the way?”

“Sounds like it.” She slipped her phone back into her bag.

“Spencer is such a pushover when it comes to good-looking women.”

“I hope he didn’t get the wrong impression.”

“We’re talking about Spencer, right?” She laughed. “Of course he has the wrong impression. It’s just the way that boy’s brain is wired.” And I was fully aware of this. Spencer had begun hitting on me as soon as I started going to HHS a couple of months ago. I’d been flattered at first, but as I got to know him better, I realized that I needed to draw some boundaries. Even so, I wasn’t going to admit that Spencer wouldn’t have been my first choice for help. “So…do you think I should call anyone else?” I offered. “Sure. Do you know anyone else?” I kind of shrugged.

The truth is, I still don’t know that many people in this town. Kim and her best friend, Natalie, already have summer jobs. But I was thinking about the kids in Kim’s church youth group—particularly Dominic. Any excuse to spend time with Dominic seemed like a good excuse to me. But I didn’t know his number, so I called Caitlin. She and her husband, Josh, are the youth leaders, and she’s been sort of mentoring me since I committed my life to God a couple of weeks ago. She answered, and I quickly explained the mural project and our lack of volunteers. “It was supposed to take only a week,” I said finally. “But with just Marissa and me and this great big wall, well, it’s a little overwhelming. She’s already called a guy to help, but—” “What a cool project,” Caitlin said. “That building is a real eyesore. It’s great that someone wants to make it nice, and I’m sure that’ll be a blessing to the kids who use the center. Why don’t I call around and see who might be willing to help out?”

“That’d be awesome, Caitlin.”

“When do you want your helpers to show up?”

“We have to figure some things out first. We probably won’t need anyone until tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.” I hung up and smiled hopefully. But Marissa was frowning at me now. “Why are you calling in the church people?”

“Why not?”

“You want me to make you a list of reasons?”

“Are you willing to turn away free help?” She dropped her cigarette butt to the pavement and ground it out with her heel as she shrugged. “I guess not. So what’s the deal, Maya? Are you one of them?”

“One of what?”

“Are you a Christian too?”

I took in a deep breath, then slowly nodded. “Actually, I am.” She shook her head in a dismal way. Like this was really unfortunate.

“I’ll admit it’s still kind of new for me,” I said.

“Why?” Her dark eyes narrowed as she studied me closely. I started to feel like a bug beneath a magnifying glass.

“Why?” I repeated, confused. “You mean why is it new for me?”

“No. Why did you do it?” The way she said this made a woman walking through the parking lot glance nervously at me, like she assumed I’d committed some horrendous crime.

“Become a Christian?”

“Yeah.” Marissa made a sour face. “I mean, I can understand girls like Kim and Natalie… They’re such goody two-shoes. But you, Maya? I thought you were different.”

“I am different.”

“Then why?”

“Because I was unhappy and lonely and hopeless and depressed and just really, really lost.”

“And now you’re found?” I could hear the teasing note in her voice.

“Actually, I do feel kind of found.” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, Marissa, if anyone had told me just a few months ago that I was going to make a life-changing commitment like this…well, I would’ve reacted just like you. I would’ve said they were

crazy. Seriously, I never would’ve believed it myself.” Her countenance softened ever so slightly, and she didn’t question this statement.

“And like I said, it’s still new to me. Basically, all I can say is that I was totally mixed-up and messed up and just plain lost…and now I have this real sense of peace. Honestly, it’s something I never had before.”

“Peace?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yes. It’s hard to describe it, but it’s like my life is in good hands now, like I feel hopeful.”

“You sound like Chloe Miller now.”

I smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” The fact is, of all the Christians I know, which aren’t that many, I can relate to Chloe best. I mean, Kim is cool and takes her faith seriously. And Caitlin is sweet and sincere and helpful. And Nat… Well, don’t get me going there. But right from the start, I seemed to get Chloe. And she seemed to get me. Maybe it has to do with the whole music thing—a kind of artistic, outside-the-box sort of thing.

“So what do you think we should paint on this wall?” Marissa seemed eager to change the subject, and I felt relieved.

“I’m thinking we should get some sketches going.” I unzipped my pack and retrieved a sketch pad. “We’re not supposed to do anything out here without Mrs. Albert’s approval.”

“Who’s that?”

“The superintendent. But if we can get her okay, we could probably start putting the drawing on the wall before our other volunteers show up. That way we can put them to work.”

“Yes sir.” She gave me a cheesy grin. “You the boss.” Before long we were sitting there on the curb, discussing ideas and playing with images. Unfortunately, Marissa’s ideas leaned toward the dark side, and when I challenged a particularly frightening image, she seemed slightly offended.

“So what do you want to paint?” she shot back. “Sunshine, flowers, and sweet turtledoves?”

“No, not exactly. But something more cheerful than a dragon burning a gnarled tree stump.”

“I was just trying to come up with something that graffiti artists would respect,” she said defensively. “Something they wouldn’t make fun of and want to deface.”

“That’s a good point. We don’t want it to be too childish.”

“But I suppose a dragon might be scary to some of the little kids who come here.”

“What exactly is the purpose of this building?” I ventured. She shrugged. “It’s a youth center. Duh.”

“So it’s a place for kids to come…for what purpose?”

“To hang. To play. For kids who need something like that.”

I kind of frowned at her. “Why?”

“You know, it’s for kids who might be kind of underprivileged, or maybe they’re unsupervised. The center has a day-care program and all kinds of classes and activities for after-school programs. Stuff like that.” Now she laughed. “Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have had anything like that back in Beverly Hills, little Miss Rich Girl.”

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t told Marissa so much about myself. But at the time, when I needed a friend a couple of months ago, it seemed right. And I thought I could trust her. Not that I

can’t.

“I’m not a rich girl.”

“Says you.” I just rolled my eyes. The truth was, I would’ve appreciated a center like this when I was a kid. Not that I plan to admit that to Marissa. But despite her misconceptions, my childhood wasn’t exactly ideal or nurturing, and I certainly never felt rich. Of course, Beverly Hills isn’t the sort of town where people are terribly concerned over the welfare of the younger generation. Like Marissa, people just assume that if you live there, your parents have lots

of money, and you’ll be just fine.

“So it sounds like it’s a place that’s meant to encourage kids, to help themgrow into better people, to give them hope,” I finally said. Marissa laughed loudly. “Hey, maybe you should go into politics or public relations or advertising or something.”

“Come on. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can get some serious sketches going. And the sooner we can get started, the sooner we can get done, and we won’t be out here

baking in the sun all summer.”

“You seem to have it all figured out, boss. Go for it.” Marissa pulled out another cigarette. Now I was tempted to point out the risks of emphysema and lung cancer, as well as how smoke makes your hair stink and yellows your fingernails, but I figured she was probably already aware

of these facts.

“Fine. I think we should create something that feels hopeful.” I squinted up at the blotchy-looking wall again. “Something colorful and cheerful and happy.”

“Maybe we could paint a pwetty wainbow?”

Just before I made a smart retort, I stopped myself. “Hey, maybe you’re right.” I grabbed my sketch pad and began to draw.

“But we’ll design it in a more modern style. Sort of cubist.” She looked over my shoulder as I drew a series of sharply angled shapes, working them together to make an arch.

“Interesting…,” she finally admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can kind of see it. And it would actually be fairly easy to put a team to work on it since it’s mostly shapes.”

“Exactly. We’ll draw them out, and they can paint them in.”

“We’ll need a lot of different colors.”

“So you can see the rainbow?” I asked. “I mean, since there’s no color in my sketch?”

“Yeah. I get where you’re going.” She snuffed out her cigarette, then reached in her bag for a tin of colored pencils. “Here, add some color.”

By midmorning we had a final colored sketch as well as Mrs. Albert’s approval. “Very nice, girls,” she told us as we were ushered out of her office. “And anything will be an improvement over what’s out there now.”

“Well, that was flattering,” Marissa said as we headed down to the storage room to meet the janitor and check out the ladders and painting supplies. “At least her expectations aren’t too high.”

Marissa laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at meeting people’s low expectations.” I wanted to ask her why that was, but we needed to get busy if we were going to put more volunteers to work tomorrow. And to my relief, Marissa actually knew how to work hard. By the end of the day, Marissa had gotten the paints, and I had managed to get a fair amount of the sketch onto the lower part of the wall.

“Nice work, boss,” Marissa said after we’d put the supplies away and stood looking at the beginning of our mural. “Same back at you.” And I have to admit that I was kind of excited to see how this whole thing would turn out. And hopefully more people will show up to help tomorrow.



Maya’s Green Tip for the Day

Don’t pour harmful wastes down public waterways.

Storm drains on public streets are for rainwater to run off

so the streets don’t flood. They’re not a convenient way

for people to get rid of chemicals or solvents or even the

bucket of soapy water after you wash your car. Unless

you use bio-friendly car-wash detergent, which I highly

recommend. You need to respect that the water that runs

off our streets eventually winds up in streams and waterways

and can harm innocent fish or other marine wildlife.

So don’t use your street drain as a dumping spot.

Monday, February 2, 2009

WILD Card Tour: Lost in Las Vegas by Melody Carlson

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


Lost in Las Vegas (Carter House Girls Series)

Zondervan (February 1, 2009)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Melody Carlson has written more than 200 books for teens, women, and children. Before publishing, Melody traveled around the world, volunteered in teen ministry, taught preschool, raised two sons, and worked briefly in interior design and later in international adoption. "I think real-life experiences inspire the best friction," she says. Her wide variety of books seems to prove this theory.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (February 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310714923
ISBN-13: 978-0310714927

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


“Remind me to never, ever star in another high school musical again.” Eliza sighed dramatically as she poured her coffee. It was the Sunday morning after the final performance of South Pacific and DJ suspected that Eliza was just fishing for compliments. Not that she hadn’t already gotten plenty. And last night, she’d been presented with a huge bouquet of roses. DJ knew they were from Eliza’s parents, but Eliza received them like an Oscar.

“But what if Mr. Harper really does High School Musical in the spring?” asked Kriti with wide dark eyes. DJ could tell by the way Kriti said this that she was hoping he would. Eliza probably was too.

“That is so last week,” said Taylor.

“Meaning you wouldn’t participate in it?” Eliza pushed a long strand of blond hair over her shoulder and sat up straighter, looking directly at Taylor like this was a personal challenge.

Taylor rolled her eyes then reached for the fruit platter. “Meaning I don’t really want to think about it right now. Sheesh, Eliza, didn’t you just ask us to remind you never to be another musical?”

“Eliza is probably just trying to secure her next starring role,” said Rhiannon. Then she frowned like she hadn’t really meant it to sound like that. “And why shouldn’t she?” she added quickly. “Eliza was absolutely fantastic as Nurse Nellie. Everyone said so.”

“And it’s obvious that Eliza will never want us to forget that she was a star,” teased Casey.

“Was.” Taylor chuckled. “As in she’s a has-been now.”

Some of the girls snickered, but Eliza just glared at Taylor.

Then as if she’d just started listening, Grandmother cleared her throat, closing the open date book that she’d been studying, she looked at the girls. “I see there are only two weeks remaining until winter break, ladies.” She shook her head sadly. “I just can’t believe that it’s already December. It seems like only yesterday that you girls arrived at Carter House. My, my, how time flies.”

“And the Winter Ball is next Saturday,” Eliza reminded them. As if anyone could’ve forgotten with all posters plastered all over the school. But DJ was still unsure. Conner had asked her to go, but she hadn’t agreed. Even though Haley hadn’t returned to school yet, it still made DJ uncomfortable to be seen as more than “just friends” with Conner. And DJ knew that Haley’s swim team buddies were probably reporting to her.

“My mother and I are shopping for gowns today,” continued Eliza. She glanced at her roommate. “And Kriti too, or course.”

“I already have my dress,” said Taylor. “A little something my mother sent over from Milan while she was performing there last month.”

DJ could tell this little dig was aimed directly at Eliza. The two girls had been going at it steadily for the last couple of weeks. It had started when Eliza’s boyfriend Harry had made what Eliza interpreted as a flirtatious move toward Taylor during a rehearsal for the musical. Actually, DJ had seen it herself and, although she hadn’t told anyone, she felt certain that Harry had been flirting too. But he’d been unaware that Eliza had been watching at the time. Yet, in a way, DJ was glad Eliza and Taylor were at odds again. They had all experienced those two “power forces” united during last month’s ski trip—and it had been rather frightening experience. Sort of like it might be if Russia and China ever got together.

“My mother offered to shop a gown for me in Paris,” said Eliza, her attempt at one-upping Taylor. “But I told her to wait. I wouldn’t want to risk having a dress that fit poorly.”

“That’s why God invented alterations, Eliza,” said Taylor. “Or perhaps you don’t have such conveniences down south.”

“I don’t see why girls think they need to go out and spend a bunch of money on something new for a silly dance,” said Casey. She glanced at Rhiannon and DJ suspected that Casey was trying to make her feel better. “I mean you’ll wear that dress like one time. What a waste!”

“So what do you intend to wear?” asked Eliza with a bored sort of interest. “Your Doc Martins and something with spikes?”

Casey made a face. “Actually, I might go eighties retro. Like Madonna or Blondie.”

“Right.” Eliza turned up her nose. “And the Winter Ball theme is White Christmas and we’re supposed to dress in a fifties style of Hollywood elegance.”

“You take those posters literally?” asked Casey.

“They suggested dresses in Christmas colors of red, green or white.” Eliza continued like she was reading it from a brochure.

“I think it’ll be pretty,” said Kriti.

“I intend to look for something sparkly in white to show off my tan,” said Eliza.

“Fake tan.” Taylor pushed a curly dark strand of hair away from her face and laughed. “My dress is black.”

“It figures.” Eliza snickered.

“I’m going to wear green,” said Rhiannon quickly, like she was trying to keep this from escalating.

“What do you mean it figures?” demanded Taylor.

“Everyone else will look Christmassy in red, green or white and the vamp will show up wearing black.” Eliza laughed.

“Speaking of Winter Break,” said Grandmother loudly. “What exactly are your plans, ladies?” She opened her date book and picked up her silver pen. “I’d like to make note of it now, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be in France for Christmas,” Eliza announced proudly.

“So you’ll be flying directly to France from Connecticut?” inquired Grandmother.

“Actually, I’ll spend the first week or so in Kentucky,” admitted Eliza. “Visiting with friends and family. Then my older siblings and I will travel together just before Christmas. My mother said the rooms aren’t completely renovated yet. Her designer, a well-known Parisian, promises to have it completed before Christmas Eve.”

“La—tee—da,” said Casey.

Grandmother frowned at Casey. “So, how about you, Miss Atwood? When will you be departing for California?”

“The same day that school is out.”

Grandmother made note of this.

“And I’ll be leaving the day after school it out,” said Rhiannon.

Grandmother’s brows lifted with curiosity. “To go where, dear?”

“To an aunt who lives in Maine.”

Grandmother smiled. “That’s nice. I didn’t know you had an aunt, Rhiannon.”

“I didn’t either. She’s actually a great aunt and…” Rhiannon paused as if unsure. “My mother may be joining me up there.”

“Really?” Grandmother looked a bit skeptical, and everyone else got quiet. They all knew that Rhiannon’s mother was in drug rehab—the lockdown kind.

“Yes. If my aunt signs something, they’ll release her for the holidays.”

“Very interesting.” Grandmother looked at Kriti now. “I assume you’ll be in New York?”

Kriti nodded happily. “Yes. We have some relatives coming from India to visit. My mother is very excited.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a delightful Christmas.” Grandmother frowned with realization. “I suppose you don’t call it Christmas, do you, Kriti?”

Kriti looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s a different sort of holiday, Mrs. Carter. We celebrate things like love, affection, sharing, and the renewing of family bonds.”

“That sounds lovely.” Grandmother looked at Taylor now. “And what will you be doing during the holidays, dear?”

Taylor sighed. “My mother has invited me to tour with her.”

Grandmother’s eyes lit up. She was a huge fan of Eva Perez. “Where will she be touring? Europe still?”

“I wish. No, she’ll be in the southwest by then. And it looks like we’ll be spending Christmas in Las Vegas.”

Eliza snickered. “Charming.”

Taylor tossed her a warning glance. “Hey, Las Vegas has its perks.”

“Most importantly, is that you’re with family, Taylor.” Grandmother smiled. “Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?”

Taylor shrugged. “I guess.”

Now Grandmother looked at DJ. “Now, you’re still certain you don’t want to join your father and his family for Christmas, Desiree?”

“No, Grandmother.” DJ tried not to show frustration. But she and Grandmother had already been over this. The last place DJ wanted to be during Christmas break was with her father’s happy little step family. It was bad enough that this would be her first Christmas without her mother. But to be stuck playing the live-in babysitter to the toddler twins was unimaginable.

“Well, I’m sure that we’ll have a delightful time right here at home.” Grandmother smiled at DJ. “Perhaps we’ll have the general over.”

DJ got sympathetic glances from Rhiannon and Casey and maybe even Kriti. Not that she wanted their pity. But Eliza just smiled smugly. And Taylor, well, she was a hard one to read.

But later that day, after DJ and Rhiannon got back from church, Taylor asked DJ if she was happy about her “holiday plans.”

DJ groaned as she flopped onto her bed. “Holiday plans? Like I planned any of this?”

Taylor laughed. “Yeah, I guess not.”

“I’ll be fine,” DJ assured her. “I’ll catch up on sleep and reading.”

“Maybe Conner will be around to keep you entertained,” Taylor said in a sexy sounding teasing tone.

“Conner is going with his family to Montana for two weeks.”

“Bummer.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I know!” Taylor exclaimed. “You’ll come out to Las Vegas and visit me for Christmas.”

DJ just laughed. “Oh, yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

“Why not?” Taylor looked slightly hurt.

“Seriously, Christmas in Las Vegas?”

“Why not?”

“Well, besides the fact that it sounds totally crazy. I know that my grandmother would never—in a million years—agree to something like that.” And the truth was that DJ was secretly relieved for this excuse. Because, really, the only thing she could imagine being worse than spending Christmas with Grandmother in Connecticut, or even her father’s step family in California, would be to spend Christmas in Las Vegas with Taylor Mitchell.



Chapter 2



“Why don’t you just go to the dance with Conner?” demanded Casey as DJ drove them home from school on Tuesday.

“I agree with Casey,” said Taylor. “Why don’t you just get it over with and say you’ll go?”

“I agree too,” chimed in Rhiannon. “Just go, DJ.”

“You know you want to,” urged Casey.

“Yes, I’ve admitted that,” said DJ. “But I just don’t want to risk hurting Haley again. She’s been through so much already.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” pointed out Rhiannon.

And, sure, DJ knew that she hadn’t been the one to push Haley into her “fake” suicide attempt—an attempt that nearly killed her. But DJ cared about Haley. She didn’t want to take any chances.

“But you said that when Haley was in the hospital, she told you that she was fine with you and Conner getting back—“

“Sure, she said that. But who knows how she really feels? Or even how she feels now?”

“Where exactly is she now?” ventured Taylor.

“I’m not supposed to say.”

“We know it’s some kind of loony bin,” said Taylor. “Why not just be honest and tell us?”

“It’s not a loony bin.” DJ scowled at Taylor as she stopped for the light. “If you must know, it’s a therapeutic clinic in New Jersey.”

“Tomatoes, to-MAH-toes. Same thing, Deej.”

“Whatever. The point is I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I know what you’re worried about…” Taylor was using that sly tone she sometimes put on to get DJ going. “You think Haley’s thugs are going to beat you up again, don’t you?”

“I do not.” Okay, the truth was, that was a little worrisome. DJ had done what she could to befriend Bethany and Amy while Haley was still in the hospital. And while Amy showed some signs of understanding, Bethany (a very large and athletic girl) was another story. Bethany was fiercely loyal to Haley. So much so that DJ sometimes secretly wondered if Bethany had feelings beyond just friendship for Haley. Okay, that was dumb. But Bethany was scary.

“Why don’t you just call Haley?” suggested Casey. “Ask her how she feels about it?”

“That seems a little harsh,” pointed out DJ. “I mean she’s being treated for suicide and I’m calling up to see if it’s okay if I go to the Winter Ball with the guy she almost OD’d for? Maybe I should ask her about my dress too and if I go for a white gown is it okay to wear white shoes after Labor Day?”
“Yeah, that does seem a little harsh,” agreed Rhiannon.

“So, really, you guys can give it up okay,” said DJ. “I think Conner already has.”

“I just feel sad that you’re the only one in Carter House who’s not going,” said Rhiannon.

“Well, don’t.” DJ turned onto their street, eager to end this conversation. The truth was DJ felt a little sad about the whole thing herself. In fact, it seemed a little unfair. But it also seemed like the mature thing to do. As far as Crescent Cove High and the world at large were concerned, she and Conner were still just friends. And that’s how she planned to keep it until she knew that Haley could handle it.

“So, do you think Rhiannon and I could borrow your car?” asked Casey. “We still have a few things to pick up for the dance.”

“Sure…” DJ pulled into the driveway, suddenly feeling even more out of it. “You mean this afternoon?”

“If you don’t mind…”

“We’d ask you to come along too,” said Rhiannon in an apologetic, “but that might seem crass…considering you’re not going to the dance…”

“Hey, why don’t we all go,” suggested Taylor suddenly. “You two can hit your retro stores and DJ can help me pick out some really hot shoes.”

“Okay,” said DJ, actually feeling eager. “And I’ll just pretend like I’m going to the dance too.”

“Who knows,” said Casey, “maybe we’ll change your mind.”

“Or maybe just talk you into a new pair of shoes,” teased Taylor.

So off they headed to the mall. And for a while DJ even pretended that she, like them, was getting ready to go to the dance. She even held up some dresses and imagined she was going.

“Oh, DJ,” said Taylor as DJ held up a garnet red sequined number. “That is really hot.” She shook her head. “And most people say blondes can’t wear red.”

“Well, I’m just a dishwater blond,” DJ reminded her.

“Why don’t you just go?” demanded Taylor. “If it makes you feel better, send Haley a note to explain it. Sheesh, she’s in therapy anyway…might give her something to talk about during one of her group sessions.”

DJ couldn’t help but laugh. Still, it seemed mean.

“Seriously, DJ. You might be doing her a favor to go. Kind of a reality check. I mean it’s about time Haley figured out that, even though she tries to kill herself, she can’t control other people. If a guy doesn’t like you, he just doesn’t like you. Get over it already.”

DJ considered this. As harsh as it sounded, it was probably true. “I don’t know…”

“Look, DJ,” said Taylor. “I know you’re trying to be nice—the goody-good girl. But have you considered the possibility that you’re just being codependent?”

“Huh?”

“You actually have some codependent traits.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, your desire to keep everyone happy and—“

“I do NOT try to keep everyone happy.”

Taylor laughed. “That’s right. You usually try to make me miserable.”

“I do not.”

“See,” said Taylor, like that proved her point.

DJ felt confused.

“All I’m saying is that you and Conner go tiptoeing around, pretending you’re not dating so that you can protect Haley’s delicate feelings while she’s in the loony bin and you think you’re helping her? What happens when she’s back in the real world and you and Conner, say, want to go to the prom, do you blame yourselves if Haley gets hurt and goes and jumps off a bridge? Will you forever be responsible for Haley and the choices she makes?”

“That does sound a little creepy…when you put it like that.”

“It sounds unhealthy and codependent to me.”

“So?”

“So, stop it!”
DJ pulled out her phone now and hit Conner’s speed dial. “Conner,” she said in a firm voice, “do you still want to take me to the Winter Ball?”

“Of course.”

So she quickly replayed what Taylor had just said and Conner actually laughed. “Well, I can’t believe that the roommate from hell could just tell you what I’ve been saying to you for weeks, but you would listen to her and not to me.”

“Sorry,” said DJ. “Sometimes God works in mysterious ways.”

Taylor frowned at her with arms folded across her chest and toe tapping.

“Anyway, if you’re okay, I’m okay,” said DJ. “But I plan to write Haley a little note to let her know what’s up. I think it’ll just be kind of like an I’m-thinking-of-you sort of email, and then I’ll casually mention that we’re going to the dance next weekend. Does that sound okay?”

“I don’t think you even need to do that much, DJ.”

“I just want to.”

“Yeah…that’s just one of the things I like about you.”

She smiled. “Okay, then…sounds like it’s a date.”

“You bet!”

“By the way, the dress is red.”

“Right…does that mean I need a red tux?”

DJ laughed and whispered to Taylor, “Conner just asked me if he needs to get a red tux.”

Taylor snatched the phone. “Not red, you idiot.” Then she told him specifically what he needed and where to get it before she handed the phone back to DJ.

“Sorry about that,” said DJ.

“No, it’s actually helpful. But I probably should’ve been taking notes.”

“I’m sure Taylor can write it down for you.”

“Guess I can tell the guys to put me down for the stretch limo now. Harry’s already ordered a Hummer.”

“Sounds fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Conner. “This will be our first real date in a long time.”

“Date?” DJ echoed as the meaning of the word sank in.

“Well, it is, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” she nodded slowly. “I guess so.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah…I’m just getting used to the idea.”

“Have fun shopping.”

“Thanks.” DJ hung up and looked at Taylor. “I guess we’re going.”

“Of course, you’re going.” Taylor shoved the red dress at her. “Now, try this on. I think it’s you’re size, but I’ll grab a couple of others just in case.”

After several tries, DJ found the perfect fit and when she came out to show Taylor, a couple other shoppers paused to look. Everyone agreed that it was perfect. DJ spun around. “It feels so good to be in a dress like this without a big old cast on my foot.”

Taylor laughed and explained to the bystanders that DJ had recently recovered from a broken leg.

“You look stunning,” said the sales woman. “Do you want me to start writing it up for you?”
DJ paused. “Oh, I didn’t even look at the price.”

“Just put it on granny’s account,” ordered Taylor.

“But I—“

“Trust me,” said Taylor. “If necessary, I’ll do the explaining. But I know that you’re grandmother would want you to have this dress, Desiree!”

“Yes, Desiree,” said the sales woman, “I’m sure she would.”

But while Taylor was taking the dress up to the counter, DJ called her grandmother and quickly explained. “And Taylor insists it’s the perfect dress,” she said finally, “but I think it’s a bit ex—“

“If Taylor says it’s perfect, it’s perfect,” proclaimed Grandmother. “And I’m so pleased to hear you’re going to the Winter Ball, Desiree. I didn’t want to say anything, or to make you feel badly, but I was terribly disappointed when I heard you hadn’t been invited.”

DJ almost pointed out that she HAD been invited but that she’d declined, but then she realized it would make no difference. Grandmother, as usual, would draw her own conclusions. Why bother? “Thanks, Grandmother,” she said brightly. “And now I’ll need shoes and—“

“Of course, you will. Ask Taylor to help you with those too. Her taste is as impeccable as her looks.”

“Okay….” What Grandmother didn’t know never failed to astonish DJ. Still, everyone knew that Taylor was Grandmother’s prize pony.

“The second-hand shoppers just called,” said Taylor after the saleswoman put the dress on her grandmother’s account and handed over the sleek garment bag. “I told them the good news and that it’ll take us at least an hour to snag the other things you’ll need.”

“They were okay with that?”

“Sure, Rhiannon said they’d just grab the metro back to town.”

“They didn’t mind using public transportation?”

“You know those two.” Taylor shook her head. “The grittier it gets the happier they are.”

“Did they find what they’re looking for?”

“Sounded like it.” Taylor hurried DJ along. “And I just remembered a great pair of shoes that I noticed several shops back. I think they’ll be perfect with that dress.”

“Grandmother knew you would.”

Taylor looked curiously at DJ then laughed. “Well, of course!”

By the time they finished, DJ was starving. “Let’s get something at the food court,” she urged Taylor. “I’m craving real food.”
Taylor looked like she was going to turn up her nose, but then she noticed the new Japanese place. “I could go for sushi.”

“No,” said DJ, pulling Taylor by the arm. “I mean real food. You’ve been bossing me around the fashion arena, I’m going to boss you around the cuisine arena. We’re having pasta.”

“Pasta?” Taylor’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah. And, trust me, we’ve done enough walking and shopping that you don’t need to worry about the calories.”

And so they didn’t. And as they sat there slurping up linguini with pesto, DJ thought there might be hope for them yet. After all, hadn’t this been a fairly normal shopping trip? Just two friends out getting ready for the Winter Ball? And yet DJ knew Taylor well enough to know that Taylor could pull the rug out from under her at any given moment. And while that was kind of exciting—in an adrenaline rush sort of way—it was also a little frightening.





Chapter 3



“Show and tell,” said Eliza as soon as DJ and Taylor came into the house with their arms loaded up with bags.

“What?” Taylor frowned at Eliza.

“Come on,” urged Eliza in her southern singsong voice. “Show and tell.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.”

“But I showed you girls my dress on Sunday night,” she protested.

“Showed off, don’t you mean?” Taylor just kept walking up the stairs.

“Come on, DJ,” urged Eliza. “Don’t you want to show us your dress? We already know that you’re going to the dance.”

“Who told you?”

“Your grandmother,” Kriti informed. “At dinner.”

“So you’ve decided that Haley can just go take a flying leap?” teased Eliza.

“No. I realized that I was doing her no favors by sparing her from the truth.” DJ looked up the stairs. Taylor was already in their room. “My roommate helped me to see the light.”

Eliza laughed loudly.

Now Rhiannon and Casey looked down the stairs. “Did you find a dress?” called down Rhiannon.

“Yes, but Taylor and DJ won’t let us see their dresses,” Eliza called back up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“So, can we see?” asked Eliza hopefully.

“I’ll think about it,” said DJ. Then she ran up the stairs.

“We’re watching a chick flick down here,” said Kriti. “If you’re interested.”

“Thanks,” said DJ. “But I have homework.”

“And we’re designing,” called Rhiannon.

“So we’ve heard,” Eliza called back. “Not that we’re interested. Are we, Kriti. Who cares what everyone else in the house is wearing. We know that we’ll look great.”

DJ couldn’t help but laugh as she went up the stairs. Why was it so vital for Eliza to know what everyone else was wearing? Of course, DJ knew the answer to this. It’s like everything was a competition with that girl. A competition where Eliza Wilton had to come out on top. And DJ had seen Eliza’s beautiful white dress. To be honest, it could’ve passed for a wedding dress. A comment that Taylor made, but not in such a flattering way. But there was no denying that it was beautiful—in a confectionary sort of way. All sparkly white and fitted, and Eliza did look like a princess in it. Fitting since Eliza probably did consider herself to be royalty. At least in Carter House.

And Kriti had looked like a nice little lady in waiting to Princess Eliza in her red velvet gown. Although DJ had thought it hadn’t done much for Kriti’s shape. Not that Kriti had a bad shape. But the velvet seemed heavy and awkward and probably added pounds, which didn’t help since Kriti was much shorter than the other girls, and not as slender. Anyway, it seemed that the dress overwhelmed her. But Eliza had proclaimed it perfect. And for a handmaid, it probably was. Poor Kriti. Still, she seemed happy with her lot in life—catering to Eliza.

“Want a sneak peek?” whispered Rhiannon once DJ was at the second floor landing.

“Of you guys?”

“Yeah, but we’d like to see your dress too.”

“Sure.” DJ slipped into their room, unzipping her bag to reveal the scrumptious gown.

“That’s gorgeous,” said Rhiannon with an affirming nod. “Really, really beautiful.”

“Swanky,” teased Casey.

DJ frowned.

“But pretty,” Casey said quickly.

“Thanks. Now, show me what you guys put together.” DJ looked around the messy room. Rhiannon’s sewing machine was still out and there were pieces of dresses and scarves and fabric strewn all about. “It’s certainly interesting in here.”

Rhiannon went over to her sewing machine and lifted up what appeared to be a pile of varying shades of green fabric. But when she held it up it turned into what looked like an incredible creation. “What do you think?” she asked hopefully.

“I think it’s fantastic, Rhiannon.” DJ went closer to examine it. Constructed of all different types of green fabrics, scarves, ribbons, beads and trims and yet it didn’t look goofy or homemade. “It’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it?” said Casey with pride. “I can’t believe she made this from scrap.”

“From recycled dresses and blouses and whatever I could find that worked,” said Rhiannon.

“You could sell clothes like this,” said DJ.

“And you don’t need to worry about anyone wearing the same dress,” added Casey.

Rhiannon laughed. “For sure.”

“Hold it up,” urged DJ.

Rhiannon held it in front of her, and those rich green tones against her pale skin and vibrant red hair looked absolutely stunning.

“I can’t imagine anything more beautiful,” said DJ. “It’s perfect.”

“I told her she looks like a Celtic goddess,” said Casey.

“It’s certainly magical. It reminds me of Ireland…or fairies.”

“Thanks so much, you guys!” Rhiannon was beaming now. “It’s kind of hard, you know, not having money like some people and trying to keep up with…well, everyone.”

“There’s no need to keep up with me,” said Casey.

“What are you wearing, Case?” DJ turned to look at her.

“Just like I said.” Casey opened her closet and pulled out something that looked like a cross between a string corset and a multi-ruffled petticoat. “And I’ll wear my black motorcycle jacket and fishnets and boots. You know, the rocking retro thing.”

“Eliza’s going to love this,” teased DJ.

“I think that’s why she’s doing it.” Rhiannon got a slight frown. “Just to get Eliza’s goat.”

“And to express my individuality,” proclaimed Casey.

“You’ll both be one of a kind,” said DJ. And a part of her wished that she’d used more ingenuity for her own gown. But, to be fair, creativity was not her strong suit. And she’d always been fashion-challenged.

As DJ zipped her gown back into the bag, Casey chuckled. “With you in that dress, Princess Eliza will probably be pea green with envy.”

“I doubt that,” said DJ. “But it’s fun making her wait.”

“Princess Eliza needs to learn that she doesn’t rule Carter House,” proclaimed Casey defiantly.

“Yeah,” agreed DJ, “This isn’t Eliza-lot.”

Rhiannon laughed.

“Thanks for showing me your dresses.” DJ headed for the door.

“And you promise you won’t show Eliza?” Casey peered at her.

DJ shrugged. “Don’t know why I should.”

Casey gave her a thumb’s up.

Of course, DJ felt slightly guilty now. It’s not like she specifically wanted to mean or to exclude Eliza. But sometimes Eliza was so pushy. Oh, she’d do it in that sweet southern style. But it felt pushy all the same. And, knowing that Eliza’s parents were from one of the wealthiest families in the country didn’t make it any easier to be nice. And, really, this wasn’t Eliza-lot!

“Did you see Rhiannon and Casey’s dresses?” Taylor asked with mild interest, not even looking up from her fashion rag.

“Yeah.” DJ hung her dress in the closet. “Rhiannon’s is spectacular.”

“Really?” Taylor set the magazine aside.

“Like it could be in a movie spectacular.”

Taylor’s brow creased slightly. “Maybe we should pay the girl to start designing for us.”

DJ picked up her laptop then sat on her bed. “You know…that’s not a bad idea, Taylor.”

“We’d have our own designer originals and Rhiannon could make money for college.”

DJ stared at Taylor in wonder. “Sometimes you blow my mind, Taylor.”

Taylor looked surprised now. “Huh?”

“You can be…kind of mean sometimes…and then surprisingly nice.”

Taylor just shrugged then returned to her magazine. “We all have our faults.”

DJ laughed and opened her laptop. “I guess….”

But before DJ even started her homework, she decided to write Haley the promised note. She and Haley had emailed a few times (not daily) since Haley had gone to Oak View for treatment. Finally, DJ felt like the note had just the right tone to it. Light and encouraging, but honest and to the point. She read through it one more time.



Hey Haley. I hope you’re doing well. Life around here is pretty much the same. School is boring. Finals are impending. And everyone is counting down the days to Christmas break. Everyone but me that is since all I get to do is stick around Carter House with my grandmother. Big thrill. I just wanted you to know (from me and not someone else) that I’m going to the Winter Ball with Conner next Saturday. The main reason I decided to go was because he felt left out since all his friends were going. And I suppose I felt left out too. I wish you were around so you could go to. I know there are dozens of guys who would jump at the chance to take you! And I hope it’s not upsetting for you to hear that Conner and I are going to this dance together. I know you said that it’s over between you two. But I don’t want to make you feel sad. Catch ya later. Love, DJ.



DJ said a quick prayer for Haley then hit send. Really, she told herself as she switched gears to homework, Taylor was right. This might be one more step in Haley getting over it. And if it wasn’t, well, wouldn’t it be better for Haley to be where she had professional help anyway? Still, DJ decide this would be even more motivation to keep praying for Haley. She really did want her to get well—and soon. Hopefully Haley would be back to normal and back school after winter break.

The next three days at school seemed focused on two things—and really, DJ thought, it seemed crazy—but everyone was either talking about the upcoming dance or complaining about finals. Kind of a dichotomy. But by the end of the week, DJ realized that a lot of the talk and excitement weren’t only about the dance, but about what was happening “after the dance.”

It turned out—big surprise here—that some of the guys had rented some hotel suites in the same place where the Winter Ball was being held. And there was no mystery as to why they’d done this. Oh, sure, DJ had overhead guys saying things like, “We just want to keep the party going,” or “we need a place to just relax and hang.” But DJ was pretty sure she knew what it was all about. And she mentioned this to Conner as they were going into the cafeteria for lunch on Friday.

“I’m assuming that you had the good sense not to rent a room?”

He looked shocked then chuckled. “Well, I’m not a saint, DJ. But, no way! You know I would never do something like that.”

“Besides being a waste of money, you’d end up dancing by yourself at the Winter Ball.”

“Trust me, I know that.”

She laughed. “Well, actually, I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’d want to dance with you, Conner. But I wouldn’t be among them.”

“Thanks.” He grinned. “I got that.”

“So what’s up with these guys?” she said quietly since they were getting into the lunch line now. “I mean like I even heard that Harry talked Josh Trundle into going in with them.” I glanced to see if Kriti was around. “And I just can’t imagine that Kriti would go for that.”
“Unless Eliza talks her into it.”

“Good point.”

“And I’m sure you’re aware that your roommate is on the guest list.”

“Not that she’s told me, but I assumed.” DJ rolled her eyes as she picked up a tray.

“I heard that Garrison is in on it too. He and Seth reserved an adjoined suite.”

Now this surprised her. “Does Casey know?”

Conner shrugged as he reached for a burger.

DJ sighed. “I wish our friends would just act like normal teenagers.”

Conner laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

DJ had to laugh too. “I don’t know…I guess I just wish everyone wasn’t so into playing grownups. Won’t we get there soon enough?”

Unfortunately Madison Dormont overheard this. And she laughed so loudly that she snorted. Then she took off and DJ could only assume she ran to tell her friends. Not that DJ cared. Sometimes DJ wanted to shout her opinions from the rooftops. “Everybody just chill!” she would scream at the top of her lungs. “You don’t have to drink alcohol or do drugs or have sex or break the rules to have fun in high school. News flash—it usually turns out to be exactly the opposite!” But DJ figured most kids wouldn’t listen. Or if they were listening they’d probably pretend like they weren’t.

Just the same, she decided to bring it up at Carter House. But not while her grandmother was listening. They were just finishing up dinner. Grandmother had excused herself—she and the general were meeting for dessert, which was probably in the form of an after-dinner drink. DJ thought it was somewhat unusual that all six girls were still sitting around the table on a Friday night. But there hadn’t been a basketball game, or anything else it seemed, to tempt anyone besides Grandmother out on a cold blustery evening in East Connecticut. And DJ supposed, because of the big night planned for tomorrow, everyone was taking it easy tonight.

“So I hear some of the guys are planning an all-night party tomorrow,” DJ mentioned casually.

“Are you coming?” asked Eliza.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Eliza laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’m curious as to how you explained this to my grandmother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Nothing…just that I’m curious.”

“You’re not planning ratting on us, are you?”

DJ innocently held up her hands.

“I’m not completely sure that I’m going yet,” said Kriti quickly.

“Good for you.” DJ smiled at her.

“Yes,” agreed Rhiannon. “That’s the wise choice.”

“Not that she’s made up her mind,” said Eliza with a cool smile.

DJ turned to Casey now. “So how about you?”

“What?”

“You’re joining in the all night party?”

Casey shrugged. “I told Garrison we could go up there for a while.”

“For a while?”

“Yeah…what’s wrong with that?”
“What do you think is wrong with that?”

She shrugged again. “Nothing. We’ll just hang and party a while. Then I’ll come home. No big deal.”

“And do you honestly think that’s why the guys are shelling out the big bucks to rent these expensive suites?” DJ asked her. “Just to put your feet up and have a few laughs?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t think they expect anything in return?”

“Oh, DJ, lighten up,” said Eliza. “Maybe we do just want to hang and have a few laughs. What is wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is that you know that’s not what this is about, Eliza.”

Taylor, who had been silently watching had a very sly grin on her face, but she still didn’t say anything. So DJ turned to her. “Tell them, Taylor. Why do you think the guys are renting hotel suites tomorrow night?”

“Why not?”
“See,” said Eliza. “Even Taylor gets that it’s no big deal. I don’t see why you and Conner don’t pop up to check on us if you don’t believe it.”

“Yeah, right.” DJ glanced at Rhiannon for backup now.

“I have to side with DJ on this,” she said firmly.

“What a surprise,” said Eliza. “But, really girls, if you’re so sure that we’ll be up there having some big orgy, why don’t ya’ll pay us a little visit?”

“Maybe we will,” DJ said hotly.

Taylor laughed. “You will not.”

DJ sighed in resignation. “Probably not.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” began Casey, “I’ll lay my cards on the table with Garrison.”

“Meaning what?” DJ challenged her.

“I’ll tell him that if he’s asking me up there to have sex, then he’s out of luck.”

DJ nodded. “I can actually imagine you saying that,” DJ told her. “But I wonder if Garrison will take you seriously?”

“That’s a good point,” said Rhiannon. “It’s like saying one thing and doing another.”

“Like you tell a guy no and then you follow him up to his hotel room,” DJ added. “What’s that really saying?”

Casey seemed to consider this.

“I think Josh would understand,” said Kriti quietly.

“I’ll admit that Josh seems like a mature kind of guy,” DJ told her. “But he’s a guy.”
“That’s right,” said Rhiannon. “I thought Bradford was more mature too…” She glanced at Taylor, as did everyone else. “But I’ve been disappointed.”

“All I’m saying,” DJ said to everyone except Rhiannon. “Is that if you go up to the suite with your boyfriends, no matter what they say, they will want things to go further.”

“And, really,” said Eliza in an exasperated tone, “is that any of your business, DJ?” She stood like she was leaving and Kriti stood, too, just like her puppet or puppy dog or lady in waiting.

“Because we live under the same roof and because some of you are my friends…yeah, I think it is.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes at DJ. “So what are you saying, DJ? Are you threatening to tell your grandmother? Because, if that’s the case, I will have my alibi ready.”

“So will we,” said Eliza. She was obviously speaking for Kriti too.

Casey said nothing.

“All I’m saying is that I hope you all use good sense tomorrow night.”

“Your good sense?” asked Taylor. “Or our own?”

“Whatever.” DJ rolled her eyes, wondering why she’d even bothered.

“Nice try,” said Rhiannon after the other four had left.

“What’s the point?”

“Do you think that’s how God feels when he sends warnings to us?”

DJ sighed. “I don’t know….”

“Well, people have the right to make their own choices,” Rhiannon reminded her, “and their own mistakes.”

And, although DJ knew Rhiannon was right, she still wished there was something she could do. But sometimes the only thing to do was to pray. And maybe that wasn’t such a small thing.



Dynamic Uno here: Once again, Melody Carlson has hit teenage behavior on the head. Lost in Las Vegas is book number 5 in the Carter House Girls series and it's even better than the one before it. The more I learn about the girls, the more I feel like I really know them. (Possibly because they remind me of some of my specific students.) You'll definitely want to start with Book One: Mixed Bags and read through the rest of the books to catch up on the back stories, but they won't take you long because each story draws you in and you keep flipping pages to find out what happens next. (Unless the girls at your school steal the books from your library--which tends to happen in mine and I'm not even in an inner-city school! The best part is that eventually, after being passed from person to person, they've started showing back up. :) )

The Winter Ball was exciting for some of the girls and a bust for the others. Thankfully Christmas Break is here and DJ finally has some space to herself with all of the girls visiting their families. As DJ was reading one evening, Taylor calls her to invite her to come to Las Vegas to play over the week. While hesitant at first, DJ is finally excited about spending some time with her roomie. Although where Taylor is concerned, things always get a bit messy. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas is the phrase Taylor starts throwing around as DJ realizes that maybe she's in over her head. You'll have to read the book to find out what happens to Taylor and DJ over Christmas break. (I can tell you that there's a bit of a twist and surprise!)

Happy Reading!

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

July FIRST: A Mile In My Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson



It is July FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and her latest book's FIRST chapter!




The feature author is:



and her book:

A Mile in My Flip-Flops

WaterBrook Press (June 17, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

In sixth grade, Melody Carlson helped start a school newspaper called The BuccaNews (her school’s mascot was a Buccaneer...arrr!). As editor of this paper, she wrote most of the material herself, creating goofy phony bylines to hide the fact that the school newspaper was mostly a "one man" show.

Visit Melody's website to see all of her wonderful and various book titles.

Don't miss her latest teen fiction, Stealing Bradford (Carter House Girls, Book 2).


Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 336 pages

Publisher: WaterBrook Press (June 17, 2008)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1400073146

ISBN-13: 978-1400073146

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


I’m not the kind of girl who wants anyone to feel sorry for her.

So after my fiancé jilted me less than four weeks before our wedding date, and since the invitations had already been sent, my only recourse was to lie low and wait for everyone to simply forget.

Consequently, I became a recluse. If I wasn’t at work, teaching a delightful class of five-year-olds, who couldn’t care less about my shattered love life, I could be found holed up in my apartment, escaping all unnecessary interaction with “sympathetic” friends.

And that is how I became addicted to HGTV and ice cream. Okay, that probably calls for some explanation. HGTV stands for Home and Garden TV, a network that runs 24/7 and is what I consider the highest form of comfort TV. It is habit forming, albeit slightly mind numbing. And ice cream obviously needs no explanation.

Other than the fact that my dad, bless his heart, had seven quart-sized cartons of Ben & Jerry’s delivered to my apartment the day after Collin dumped me. Appropriately enough, dear old Dad (who knows me better than anyone on the planet) selected a flavor called Chocolate Therapy, a product worthy of its name and just as addictive as HGTV.

But now, eighteen months and twenty-two pounds later, I seem to be in a rut. And apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so.

“Come on, Gretchen,” urges my best friend, Holly, from her end of the phone line. “Just come with us–please!”

“Right…,” I mutter as I lick my spoon and dip it back into a freshly opened carton of Chunky Monkey–also appropriately named, but let’s not go there. Anyway, not only had I moved on to new ice cream flavors, but I also had given up using bowls. “Like I want to tag along with the newlyweds. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Like I keep telling you, we’re not newlyweds anymore,” she insists. “We’ve been married three months now.”

“Yeah…well…”

“And it’s Cinco de Mayo,” she persists, using that little girl voice that I first heard when we became best friends back in third grade. “We always go together.”

I consider this. I want to point out that Holly and I used to always go to the Cinco de Mayo celebration together–as in past tense. And despite her pity for me, or perhaps it’s just some sort of misplaced guilt because she’s married and I am not, I think the days of hanging with my best friend are pretty much over now. The image of Holly and Justin, both good looking enough to be models, strolling around holding hands with frumpy, dumpy me tagging along behind them like their poor, single, reject friend just doesn’t work for me.

“Thanks anyway,” I tell her. “But I’m kind of busy today.”

“So what are you doing then?” I hear the challenge in her voice, like she thinks I don’t have anything to do on a Saturday.

I slump back into the sofa and look over to the muted TV, which is tuned, of course, to HGTV, where my favorite show, House Flippers, is about to begin, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. “I’m, uh…I’ve got lesson plans to do,” I say quickly. This is actually true, although I don’t usually do them until Sunday evening.

She snickers. “Yeah, that’s a good one, Gretch. I’ll bet you’re vegging out in front of HGTV with a carton of Chocolate Fudge Brownie.”

“Wrong.” Okay, Holly is only partially wrong. Fortunately, I haven’t told her about my latest flavor.

“Come on,” she tries again. “It’ll be fun. You can bring Riley along. He’d probably like to stretch his legs.”

I glance over to where my usually hyper, chocolate Lab mixed breed is snoozing on his LL Bean doggy bed with a chewed-up and slightly soggy Cole Haan loafer tucked under his muzzle. “Riley’s napping,” I say. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Like he wouldn’t want to go out and get some fresh air and sunshine?”

“We already had our walk today."

Holly laughs. “You mean that little shuffle you do over to the itty bitty park across the street from your apartment complex? What’s that take? Like seven and a half minutes for the whole round trip? That’s not enough exercise for a growing dog like Riley.”

“I threw a ball for him to chase.”

“So there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind?” House Flippers is just starting. “Nope,” I say, trying to end this conversation. “But thanks for thinking of me.”

“Want me to bring you back an empanada?”

“Sure,” I say quickly. “You guys have fun!” Then I hang up and, taking the TV off mute, I lean back into the soft chenille sofa and lose myself while watching a hapless couple from Florida renovate a seriously run-down split-level into something they hope to sell for a profit. Unfortunately, neither of them is terribly clever when it comes to remodeling basics. And their taste in interior design is sadly lacking too. The woman’s favorite color is rose, which she uses liberally throughout the house, and she actually thinks that buyers will appreciate the dated brown tiles and bathroom fixtures in the powder room. By the time the show ends, not only is the house still on the market despite the reduced price and open house, but the couple’s marriage seems to be in real trouble as well.

“Too bad,” I say out loud as I mute the TV for commercials. Riley’s head jerks up, and he looks at me with expectant eyes.

“You just keep being a good boy,” I tell him in a soothing tone. Hopefully, he’ll stretch out this midday nap a bit longer. Because once Riley starts moving, my tiny apartment seems to shrink, first by inches and then by feet.

My hope for an elongated nap crumbles when his tail begins to beat rhythmically on the floor, almost like a warning–thump, thump, thump–and the next thing I know, he’s up and prowling around the cluttered living room. Riley isn’t even full grown yet, and he’s already way too much dog for my apartment. Holly warned me that his breed needed room to romp and play. She tried to talk me into a little dog, like a Yorkie or Chihuahua, but I had fallen for those liquid amber eyes…and did I mention that he’s part chocolate Lab? Since when have I been able to resist chocolate? Besides, he reminded me of a cuddly brown teddy bear. But I hardly considered the fact that he would get bigger.

After he climbed into my lap that day, licking my face and smelling of puppy breath and other things that I knew could be shampooed away, there was no way I could leave him behind at the Humane Society. I already knew that he’d been rejected as a Christmas present. Some dimwitted father had gotten him for toddler twins without consulting Mommy first. Even so, Holly tried to convince me that a good-looking puppy like that would quickly find another home.

But it was too late. I knew Riley was meant for me, and that was that. And I had grandiose ideas of taking him for long walks on the beach. “He’ll help me get in shape,” I assured Holly. She’d long since given up on me going to the fitness club with her, so I think she bought into the whole exercise theory. She also bought Riley his LL Bean deluxe doggy bed, which I could barely wedge into my already crowded apartment and now takes up most of the dining area, even though it’s partially tucked beneath a gorgeous craftsman-style Ethan Allen dining room set. Although it’s hard to tell that it’s gorgeous since it’s pushed up against a wall and covered with boxes of Pottery Barn kitchen items that won’t fit into my limited cabinet space.

“This place is way too small for us,” I say to Riley as I shove the half-full ice cream carton back into the freezer. As if to confirm this, his wagging tail whacks an oversized dried arrangement in a large bronze vase, sending seedpods, leaves, and twigs flying across the carpet and adding to the general atmosphere of chaos and confusion.

My decorating style? Contemporary clutter with a little eclectic disorder thrown in for special effect. Although, to be fair, that’s not the real me. I’m sure the real me could make a real place look like a million bucks. That is, if I had a real place…or a million bucks.

I let out a long sigh as I stand amid my clutter and survey my crowded apartment. It’s been like this for almost two years now.

Overly filled with all the stuff I purchased shortly after Collin proposed to me more than two years ago. Using my meager teacher’s salary and skimpy savings, I started planning the interior décor for our new home. I couldn’t wait to put it all together after the wedding.

“Have you ever heard of wedding presents?” Holly asked me when she first realized what I was doing.

“Of course,” I assured her. “But I can’t expect the guests to provide everything for our home. I figured I might as well get started myself. Look at this great set of espresso cups that I got at Crate & Barrel last weekend for thirty percent off.”

“Well, at least you have good taste,” she admitted as she stooped to admire a hand-tied wool area rug I’d just gotten on sale. Of course, she gasped when she saw the price tag still on it. “Expensive taste too!”

“It’ll last a lifetime,” I assured her, just like the Karastan salesman had assured me. Of course, as it turned out, my entire relationship with Collin didn’t even last two years. Now I’m stuck with a rug that’s too big to fit in this crummy little one-bedroom apartment–the same apartment I’d given Mr. Yamamoto notice on two months before my wedding. It was so humiliating to have to beg to keep it after the wedding was cancelled, but I didn’t know what else to do.

And now, a year and a half later, I’m still here. Stuck. It’s like everyone else has moved on with their lives except me. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had enough room to make myself at home or enough room for Riley to wag his tail without causing mass destruction…or enough room to simply breathe. Maybe I should rent a storage unit for all this stuff. Or maybe I should move myself into a storage unit since it would probably be bigger than this apartment.

As I pick up Riley’s newest mess, I decide the bottom line is that I need to make a decision. Get rid of some things–whether by storage, a yard sale, or charity–or else get more space. I vote for more space. Not that I can afford more space. I’m already strapped as it is.

Kindergarten teachers don’t make a whole lot. I feel like I’ve created a prison for myself. What used to be a convenient hideout now feels like a trap, and these thin walls seem to be closing in on me daily. Feeling hopeless, I flop back onto the couch and ponder my limited options. Then I consider forgetting the whole thing and escaping back into HGTV, which might call for some more ice cream.

But that’s when I look down and notice my thighs spreading out like two very large slabs of ham. Very pale ham, I might add as I tug at my snug shorts to help cover what I don’t want to see, but it’s not working. I stare at my flabby legs in horror. When did this happen?

I stand up now, trying to erase that frightening image of enormous, white thunder thighs. I pace around my apartment a bit before I finally go and stand in front of an oversized mirror that’s leaning against the wall near the front door. This is a beautiful mirror I got half price at World Market, but it belongs in a large home, possibly over a fireplace or in a lovely foyer. And it will probably be broken by Riley’s antics if it remains against this wall much longer.

But instead of admiring the heavy bronze frame of the mirror like I usually do, I actually look into the mirror and am slightly stunned at what I see. Who is that frumpy girl? And who let her into my apartment? I actually used to think I was sort of good looking. Not a babe, mind you, but okay. Today I see a faded girl with disappointed eyes.

Some people, probably encouraged by Holly, a long-legged dazzling brunette, used to say I resembled Nicole Kidman. Although they probably were thinking of when Nicole was heavier and I was lighter. Now it’s a pretty big stretch to see any similarities. To add insult to injury, Nicole has already hit the big “four o,” whereas I am only thirty-two. Her forties might be yesterday’s twenties, but my thirties look more like someone else’s fifties. And I used to take better care of myself. Okay, I was never thin, but I did eat right and got exercise from jogging and rollerblading. Compared to now, I was in great shape. And my long strawberry blond hair, which I thought was my best asset, was usually wavy and fresh looking, although you wouldn’t know that now. It’s unwashed and pulled tightly into a shabby-looking ponytail, which accentuates my pudgy face and pale skin. Even my freckles have faded. It doesn’t help matters that my worn T-shirt (with a peeling logo that proclaims “My Teacher Gets an A+”) is saggy and baggy, and my Old Navy khaki shorts, as I’ve just observed, are too tight, and my rubber flip-flops look like they belong on a homeless person–although I could easily be mistaken for one if I was pushing a shopping cart down the street.

Then, in the midst of this pathetic personal inventory, my focus shifts to all the junk that’s piled behind me–the boxes, the myriad of stuff lining the short, narrow hallway and even spilling into the open door of my tiny bedroom, which can barely contain the queensize bed and bronze bedframe still in the packing box behind it. If it wasn’t so depressing, it would almost be funny. I just shake my head. And then I notice Riley standing strangely still behind me and looking almost as confused as I feel. With his head slightly cocked to one side, he watches me curiously, as if he, too, is afraid to move. This is nuts. Totally certifiable. A girl, or even a dog, could seriously lose it living like this. Or maybe I already have. They say you’re always the last to know that you’ve lost your marbles.

“It’s time for a change,” I announce to Riley. He wags his tail happily now, as if he wholeheartedly agrees. Or maybe he simply thinks I’m offering to take him on a nice, long walk. “We need a real house,” I continue, gathering steam now. “And we need a real yard for you to run and play in.” Of course, this only excites him more.

And that’s when he begins to run about the apartment like a possessed thing, bumping into boxes and furnishings until I finally open the sliding door and send him out to the tiny deck to calm himself.

After he settles down, I go and join him. It’s pretty hot out here, and I notice that the seedling sunflower plants, ones we’d started in the classroom and I’d brought home to nurture along, are now hanging limp and lifeless, tortured by the hot afternoon sun that bakes this little patio. Just one more thing I hate about this place.

So much for my attempt at terrace gardening. I’d seen a show on HGTV that inspired me to turn this little square of cement deck into a real oasis. But in reality it’s simply a barren desert that will only get worse as the summer gets hotter. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears now. It’s hopeless.

This is all wrong. On so many levels. This is not where I was supposed to be at this stage of the game. This is not the life I had planned. I feel like I’ve been robbed or tricked or like someone ripped the rug out from under me. And sometimes in moments like this, I even resent God and question my faith in him. I wonder why he allows things like this to happen. Why does he let innocent people get hurt by the selfishness of others? It just doesn’t make sense. And it’s not fair.

Oh, I’ve tried to convince myself I’m over the fact that my ex fiancé, Collin Fairfield, was a total jerk. And I try not to blame him for being swept away when his high school sweetheart decided, after fifteen years of being apart, that she was truly in love with him. I heard that the revelation came to Selena at the same time she received our engraved wedding invitation, which I did not send to her. She wasn’t even on my list.

And I actually believe that I’ve mostly forgiven Collin…and that sneaky Selena too. And I wish them well, although I didn’t attend their wedding last fall. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

But all that aside, this is still so wrong. I do not belong in this stuffy little apartment that’s cluttered with my pretty household goods. I belong in a real house. A house with a white picket fence and a lawn and fruit trees in the backyard. And being single shouldn’t mean that I don’t get to have that. There must be some way I can afford a home.

Of course, I’m fully aware that real estate isn’t cheap in El Ocaso. It’s on the news regularly. Our town’s prices certainly aren’t as outrageous as some of the suburbs around San Diego, but they’re not exactly affordable on a teacher’s salary. I try not to remember how much I had in my savings account back before I got engaged and got carried away with spending on my wedding and my home. That pretty much depleted what might’ve gone toward a small down payment on what probably would’ve been a very small house. But, hey, even a small house would be better than this prison-cell apartment.

And that’s when it hits me. And it’s so totally obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I will become a house flipper! Just like the people on my favorite HGTV show, I will figure out a way to secure a short-term loan, purchase a fixer-upper house, and do the repairs and decorating myself–with my dad’s expert help, of course!

And then, maybe as early as midsummer, I will sell this beautifully renovated house for enough profit to make a good-sized down payment on another house just for me…and Riley. Even if the secondhouse is a fixer-upper too, I can take my time with it, making it just the way I want it. And it’ll be so much better than where I live now.

I’m surprised I didn’t come up with this idea months ago. It’s so totally simple. Totally perfect. And totally me!

“We are going house hunting,” I announce to Riley as I shove open the sliding door and march back inside the apartment. His whole body is wagging with doggy joy as I quickly exchange my too-tight shorts for jeans and then reach for his leather leash and my Dolce & Gabbana knockoff bag–the one I bought to carry on my honeymoon, the honeymoon that never was. I avoid looking at my image in the big mirror as we make a hasty exit.

“Come on, boy,” I say as I hook the leash to his collar at the top of the stairs. “This is going to be fun!” And since this outing is in the spirit of fun, I even put down the top on my VW Bug, something I haven’t done in ages. Riley looks like he’s died and gone to doggy heaven as he rides joyfully in the backseat, his ears flapping in the breeze. Who knows, maybe we’ll find a house for sale on the beach.

Okay, it’d have to be a run-down, ramshackle sort of place that no one but me can see the hidden value in, but it could happen. And while I renovate my soon-to-be wonder house, Riley can be king of the beach. The possibilities seem limitless. And when I stop at the grocery store to pick up real-estate papers, I am impressed with how many listings there are. But I can’t read and drive, so I decide to focus on driving. And since I know this town like the back of my hand, this should be easy.

But thanks to the Cinco de Mayo celebration, the downtown area is crowded, so I start my search on the south end of town, trying to avoid traffic jams. I’m aware that this area is a little pricey for me, but you never know. First, I pull over into a parking lot and read the fliers. I read about several houses for sale, but the prices are staggering.

Even more than I imagined. Also, based on the descriptions and photos, these houses already seem to be in great shape. No fixer-uppers here. Then I notice some condo units for sale, and I can imagine finding a run-down unit in need of a little TLC, but it’s the same situation. According to the fliers, they’re in tiptop, turnkey shape–recently remodeled with granite counters and cherry hardwood floors and new carpeting and prices so high I can’t imagine doing anything that could push them a penny higher. My profit margin and spirits are steadily sinking. Maybe my idea to flip a house has already flopped. Just like the rest of my life.


Excerpted from A Mile in My Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson Copyright © 2008 by Melody Carlson. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.





Dynamic Uno here:
As I started reading this book I suddenly became a bit paranoid. I began looking for hidden cameras or microphones, but didn't find any. After all--the main character, Gretchen, sounded a lot like me! She was jilted by her ex-fiance and decided to drown her sorrows in ice-cream and HGTV. Then, she couldn't understand why her clothes were suddenly too snug. (Hmmm...sounds like me!) All I need is the contractor dad and the "hottie" friend of the family that's interested in helping me flip a house. Anyone...? Anyone.....?

Melody Carlson's book, A Mile in My Flip-Flops will have you laughing in your seat. As I mentioned before, it almost felt like my thoughts were being taped because many of them appeared out of Gretchen's mouth. (Hmmm...I wonder if it's a good thing to be compared to a fictional character?) In any case, if you've ever watched HGTV, craved chocolate, or ever had to deal with family drama, then this is the book for you! I promise, you will NOT be disappointed.