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In her first novel since The One and Only Ivan, winner of the Newbery Medal, Katherine Applegate delivers an unforgettable and magical story about family, friendship, and resilience.
Jackson and his family have fallen on hard times. There's no more money for rent. And not much for food, either. His parents, his little sister, and their dog may have to live in their minivan. Again.
Crenshaw is a cat. He's large, he's outspoken, and he's imaginary. He has come back into Jackson's life to help him. But is an imaginary friend enough to save this family from losing everything?
Beloved author Katherine Applegate proves in unexpected ways that friends matter, whether real or imaginary. This title has Common Core connections.
just sit on the couch,” I said. “I’ve got this.” I walked to the front door and opened it. That’s all I did. Just opened it. Fog drifted. Frogs chatted. The waiting world was calm. Everyone sat on the couch. I kept Aretha quiet with her squirrel chew toy. It was covered with dog slobber. We watched the raccoon finish his food. When he was done, he waddled past us like he owned the place and headed for the open door. He glanced over his shoulder before he left. I could almost hear him
I said I’d go get Aretha’s dog food. “Smallest, cheapest bag,” my dad reminded me. “Smallest and cheapest.” I nodded. It was cool and quiet inside. I walked past shelf after shelf of dog food. Some contained turkey and cranberries. Some had salmon or tuna or buffalo for dogs who were allergic to chicken. They even had dog food made with kangaroo meat. Near the food, I saw a rack of dog sweaters. They said things like HOT DOG and I’M A GREAT CATCH. Next to them were sparkly pet collars and
harnesses. Aretha would never be caught dead in one of those, I thought. Pets don’t care about sparkles. What a waste of money. I passed a display of dog cookies shaped like bones and cats and squirrels. They looked better than some human cookies. And then, I don’t know why, my hand started moving. It grabbed one of those stupid cookies. The cookie was shaped like a cat. Next thing I knew, that cookie was in my pocket. Down the aisle, a clerk in a red vest was on his hands and knees in front
long time. Robin and I played cerealball with her T-ball cap and some sugarless bubble gum. “You remember those purple jelly beans?” Robin asked. “The magic ones?” Robin nodded. “They were maybe not so magic.” I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?” “They were from Kylie’s birthday party.” Robin pulled on her ponytail. “I just wanted you to think they were magic. But there’s no such thing. Of course.” “I don’t know,” I said. “Could be magic happens sometimes.” “Really?” Robin asked.
keepsakes bag. Some photos. A spelling bee trophy. A bunch of nature books. My teddy bear. A clay statue of Crenshaw that I’d made when I was in second grade. My worn-out copy of A Hole Is To Dig. I thought about Crenshaw and the surfboard. I thought about the purple jelly beans. Mostly, though, I thought about the signs I’d been noticing. I am very observant, which is a useful thing for a scientist to be. Here’s what I’d been observing: Big piles of bills. Parents whispering. Parents