Friction

Friction

by E. R. Frank
Friction

Friction

by E. R. Frank

Paperback(Reprint)

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Overview

True or False:
Simon is one of the coolest teachers at
Forest Alternative: True
Simon and Alex are friends: True
Tim is jealous of Alex and Simon: False...
...until Stacy walks into class, flashing her tongue ring, swishing her hair, and spreading rumors -- dirty rumors, the kind that make you second guess who your real friends are, and their intentions. Rumors like Stacy's test and sometimes ruin friendships as strong as those among Tim, Alex, and Simon. Rumors are dangerous, but not always as dangerous or ugly as the truths from which they spring...

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780689853852
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Publication date: 11/01/2004
Series: Richard Jackson Books (Simon Pulse)
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 208
Product dimensions: 5.00(w) x 7.00(h) x 0.80(d)
Lexile: 630L (what's this?)
Age Range: 12 - 18 Years

About the Author

E.R. Frank is the author of America, Friction, Wrecked, and Dime. Her first novel, Life Is Funny, won the Teen People Book Club NEXT Award for YA Fiction and was also a top-ten ALA 2001 Quick Pick. In addition to being writer, E.R. Frank is also a clinical social worker and psychotherapist. She works with adults and adolescents and specializes in trauma.

Read an Excerpt

Friction
THE FIRST TIME we all meet Stacy, it’s just a regular morning.

Our teacher, Simon, is in front of the room, shuffling flash cards. He leans back against the science counter, mixes the deck a couple of times, and hooks one ankle over the other, the way he always does. Then he holds up the first word.

“Ology,” he says out loud, so we can hear how it sounds. I write, the study of. Things are quiet while pencils scratch, sounding just like gerbils making a nest out of cedar chips and Kleenex. Simon holds up the next one. Astro. On a test he’ll put them together, and we’ll have to figure out that astrology means “the study of stars.”

“Ichthy,” Simon says. Fish, I write, and then I kick Tim and make a gagging face to remind him how we remember that one: Fish tastes icky. . . . ichthy. But Tim doesn’t kick back, even when I kick him again, and then I notice there’s this massive hush in the room. I look up to see a girl standing in the doorway. The new girl. Simon told us she was coming, but up until this second I’d forgotten all about it.

She’s got shiny black hair down to her behind and gray eyes that take up her whole face, and she’s as skinny as I am. She’s wearing a purple-and-black turtleneck and jeans that look brand-new, and she grins at everybody like she’s totally psyched to meet us. She’s got a gap between her two front teeth.

“Hi,” she goes. “I’m Stacy.” I see a flash of silver in her mouth. A tongue ring. “Let’s get this party started.”

And that’s how it begins.

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