Really? I’ve never seen him in my school. He needs to see for himself what you’ve done.” My dad. Is he talking to himself? “Okay,” he says louder, and lets out a long sigh.
“I’m going to have to do it,” he mutters. Principal Hecton is squeezing his hands together and almost whispering. That sunrise was going to help me ignore it all. So that even Adrianna Randell now walks past me without a word, as if we haven’t spent nights sprawled on pillows and giggling on her bedroom floor. Instead, everyone should be like model student Danielle, who fights the “right” way: by convincing the entire softball team to stop talking to me.
And I get that girls aren’t supposed to give other people bloody noses. Yes, I know that “not thinking was the problem,” but did Danielle think before she talked? Because if she did, that’s even worse. Yes, I know punching her in the face was the wrong thing to do. ” He keeps talking, and I have to bite my lip hard so I don’t talk back. “As you know, we have rules around here for a reason. Who cares if she said I looked like a freaky clown. I wasn’t wearing that awesome rainbow outfit for other people. “For physically assaulting Danielle Fisher.” That was a mistake. “And weren’t you just in my office a week ago?” It was twelve days. “I’ve got to tell you, I’m tired of your family pushing people around.” I press my lips together and try to imagine that sunrise. Value added! “And don’t think I didn’t hear the stories about your grandpa, too, back when I was in school.” Principal Hecton shakes his head. I eye the still-wet paint splotches on my green pants. “Because I don’t think I can handle that,” he says. “Are you going to be just like your brother? And your dad?” No way! Is he kidding? I try to do the exact opposite of them. He opens his eyes and leans over the desk. “I should have known.” Maybe with a few yellow dots. Principal Hecton leans back and closes his eyes. Orange, blue, and purple dots would be nice. He could get the magnetic kind, and then those of us having to stare at it could rearrange them to keep it fresh. His desk would look better with polka dots. He collapses into his chair and lets out a sigh. “Libby Delmar, what have you done to that wall?” I sit in the seat in front of Principal Hecton’s desk. A blazing inferno just waiting to be unleashed. I kneel down and pry the lid off the can. I knew this would make me feel better! Now it’s time to add the yellow. I know that’s not how people usually make sunrises, but there’s fire involved, right? I add more on the other side.
I dip my brush back into the can and make even bigger circles, then add extra dollops above, like sparks flying up. I don’t play an instrument, but I’ve seen him waving his arms when I peek in the band room. My paintbrush is like the band teacher conducting. I slather on more orange paint, catching the drips with my paintbrush and mixing them into the hot pink. LIBBY MONDAY, APRIL 30 This is going to be the best sunrise ever. All the characters find ways to encourage each other, be less alone, and connect.”- Booklist, starred review About the Author Braden sensitively demonstrates how isolating it can be to live with people who, despite good intentions, force their children to fulfill expectations that run counter to their own senses of self. The balance between urban and rural as well as popular and uncool promotes the value of building a network in this striking entry.”- School Library Connection, starred review * “The narrative develops each individual’s story, gradually providing clues about their homes, families, and schools. A great read aloud for classrooms that are dealing with bullying in any form as well as an inspiration for sharing art. This includes an understanding of how treating those who identify as transgender with respect is just another way of appreciating and celebrating our differences. Braden takes these disparate threads and weaves them together in a way that will not just appeal to young readers but will lead to an empowering acceptance of themselves. * “Four narrators spread across small towns in Vermont and the city of Seattle establish meaningful connections in this highly satisfying examination of the power of small, positive actions.
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