“I loved this book! Couldn’t put it down and neither will young readers. Girl power at its finest.” —Sharon G. Flake, author of The Skin I’m In
From the Publisher: “Jane is a wiz at facts and numbers, but she’s clueless when it comes to other kids. Her autism and all-consuming love of cats make her a target for bullies. She’s nothing like Ashley. Ashley is bubbly and excitable and has always been best friends with the queen bee of Monroe Elementary. When Ashley refuses to lie to keep her best friend out of serious trouble, she loses her seat at the popular table–and her whole identity along with it.
The one thing Jane and Ashley have in common is the best teacher in the world, Miss DiMicco. When Miss DiMicco is arrested after being accused of stealing at a school fundraiser, and a miserable sub takes her place, the girls form an unlikely alliance to clear their teacher’s name. As they butt heads over cats, makeup, and the rules of sixth grade, the girls fight to get their teacher back and to keep their friendship from falling apart…”
More info About the Authors: Cristina Rouvalis is an award-winning Pittsburgh-based journalist with a talent for distilling facts about real people into lively features and profiles. Lydia Wayman is an autistic advocate whose writing has appeared in a wide range of online and printed publications. She also presents at events and conferences and works with organizations to develop courses and training programs.
Don’t miss out: Rouvalis and Wayman will be launching Snoopers & Sneakers at the fabulous Spark Books in Aspinwall on January 25th from 2 – 3:30pm (and they’ll be doing a Facebook Live event, online, with Sharon Flake on Thursday January 23rd at 7 pm).
Book Launch “Engaging clues, multiple likely suspects, and a sense of urgency make it a fast-paced page-turner. If you enjoyed Wonder by R.J. Palacio, you’ll love this heartwarming story about unlikely friendships and standing up for what is right.” —P. Rosenthal, Reader’s Favorite, 5-star review
“This is an empathy-building book for young readers (and older ones!) that helps put the voices and experience of Neurodivergent people in the spotlight.” —Jenna Gensic, author of The #ActuallyAutistic Guide to Building Independence: AHandbook for Teens, Young Adults, and Those Who Care About Them
“Rouvalis and Wayman drop us into a world woven with thievery, mystery and school-age angst. Even better, what rises to the top is a story of friendship, bravery and change. A pure delight.” —Ree Augstine, author of Hangabout: Far From Home
Chapter 1
Jane
I pressed my ear against the iPad speaker and listened to the purring sound. But it wasn’t enough to block it all out—fifty-three screaming kids and the nauseating smell of diesel fuel and the bus seat sticking to my palms. I should have just stayed home with my cat Lucy instead of going on the field trip to the zoo. Cats appreciate quiet and fresh air and personal space. Cats would hate everything about the school bus.
Cats make sense.
Miss DiMicco stood in the aisle and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention so she could do the roll call. Everything went smoothly until she got to the S names.
“Strauss?” She paused to look up and down both sides of the bus and then called for Ashley again by her full name.
I tapped Miss DiMicco on the elbow. “Excuse me, Miss DiMicco. Ashley is my partner, and she isn’t on the bus.”
“Hm,” she said, craning her neck to look out the windows.
“It’s already 8:32,” I said. “Maybe we should leave without her.” Maybe then I could be paired with a different partner—one who wouldn’t waste time watching herself in the mirror rather than the animals.
Just as Miss DiMicco got her phone out, Ashley bounded onto the bus and collapsed beside me into the seat. I winced, pressing my back against the freezing cold window to make sure her elbows wouldn’t invade my personal space. Every time she bounced around, the brown plastic seat cover hissed as air escaped through a tiny hole.
“Sorry, I was in the bathroom,” she said. “It was kind of freaky. I got back to the cafeteria, and it was like… poof! I thought you guys left without me.”
Finally, the driver started the bus, and the exhaust fumes floated in through the cracked-open window.
Miss DiMicco sat down in the seat in front of us. The pile of curly hair on top of her head bounced every time the bus hit a bump. “So, Jane, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the new Siberian tiger cub. Or is it cubs?”
“Three, actually,” I said, dodging an elbow as Ashley twisted around to wave to her friends at the back of the bus. I scooted myself even closer to the window.
“Speaking of cats, I was at a garage sale this weekend, and I found this little gem,” Miss DiMicco said, pulling a hardcover book out of her shoulder bag. It had a fancy paper jacket with The Encyclopedia of Cats in raised letters.
“There are some great pictures in it. I thought it might be helpful if you need a break today.”
The white Persian on the cover had one blue eye and one gold eye. Scanning the pages, I said, “This is the most comprehensive book of cat breeds I’ve ever seen.”
“I couldn’t resist. It has your name all over it.” I opened the front cover and found Miss DiMicco’s name and the school address written in black ink. “Actually, it has your name on it.”
“Well, yes, that’s true, but it’s an expression that means I was thinking of you when I got it. I thought you might like to borrow it for a while.”
“Thank you for thinking of me,” I said. I’d never had a teacher who understood my love for cats. Miss DiMicco had a tabby named Heinz Pickles the 57th, or Pickles for short. It’s an unusual name for a cat, but that’s what they called her at the Humane Society.
The book fell open to a page where someone had folded the top corner down to mark their spot. The previous owner didn’t know how to treat a book, but they had good taste in cat breeds. It was the Russian Blue, a beautiful cat with the thickest gray-blue fur and green eyes.
“I promise I’ll take good care of it,” I said, sliding it into the blue drawstring backpack my mom had bought for me just for this field trip.
“Ashley,” Miss DiMicco said, dropping her voice, “I know you’re excited, but can you turn around and sit down in your seat for me, please?”
As Ashley whipped around, her bottom landed on my right hand and sent my Monroe Elementary Sixth Grade Zoo Trip folder into the aisle. The animal behavior observation worksheet fell out onto the germy floor.
“Whoops, sorry,” Ashley said, stuffing the worksheet back into the folder and handing it to me. There was a smudge of mud across the front. I pinched the cleanest corner and held it up, trying to create a barrier between us.
“Hey, Miss DiMicco?” Ashley said, leaning into the aisle again. “Where’d you get those boots?”
Miss DiMicco kicked one foot out, showing off a boot with two different colors of metal studs down the side.
“Nick’s Kicks, where else?” Her voice got louder and the pitch went up—not a whole octave, but at least a few notes. She sounded like she belonged on a TV commercial. “I think I got eight pairs at last year’s Monroe Night. I can’t believe how fast it’s coming up. I figure if I’m the one organizing a school fundraiser, I have to set a good example and get some new shoes, right?”
“I guess someone has to do it,” Ashley said, looking very serious, but Miss DiMicco seemed to think it was quite funny.
Why would anyone be excited to breathe that synthetic new-shoe smell and be squashed by all those people just to get a new pair of scratchy, pinchy shoes? I curled my toes inside the most comfortable shoes I’d ever owned— orange slip-on Vans. My big toe popped through the little hole where the fabric meets the sole. The orange canvas on the outside felt cold under my toe.
“So,” Ashley said, turning toward me. “I’m kind of excited to see the penguins. What’s your favorite animal?”
I realized that she was doing my least favorite social skill: starting a conversation. They didn’t give grades for social skills, but if they did, Ashley would have gotten an A+.
“Uhh,” I stammered. Ashley was looking right at me, waiting for an answer. “The Siberian tigers. Actually, the entire cat family.”
“I have a gray cat named Tinkerbell. But we call her Tink, or sometimes just T. She hides, like, all the time.”
“Is your cat a Russian Blue?”
Ashley shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen a blue cat before.”
People say they like cats, but they don’t. Not really. Not the way I do.
“No. Some species have gray fur, but it’s technically called blue. Russian Blue cats actually have a double coat.
You can trace patterns on their backs.” “Oh, wow. How do you even know all this stuff? School must be a breeze for you.” “It’s not.”
“Yeah, um, I don’t believe that for a second,” she said. She was smiling, but I wasn’t sure what she meant, if she actually thought I was making things up.
My mom always said it was okay to be different. And mostly, I didn’t mind it. I only wished it wasn’t so hard for me to have friends. And that other kids wouldn’t make fun of me.
I can’t help that I am how I am. I can’t help that I’m autistic. Math and science had always been easy, but the other kids made school impossible. It’s like everyone else had a book called How to Act in Sixth Grade, but I wasn’t even allowed to read it. I never knew when the next test was coming or what would be on it. It was the subject everyone cared about the most, and I failed every time.
Chapter 2
Ashley
I tried to be nice. I swear. But I might as well have been stuck with a science teacher for my partner. Jane’s knobby knees and pigeon toes moved about as
fast as the giant tortoise. And she had to stop and read every sign about every animal.
“Hurry up,” I called over my shoulder, hoping she would get the message that I was ready to leave the tiger exhibit. It was only the second animal, but it had to be the twenty-seventh time I’d told her to hurry. But Jane never answered me. She didn’t even say to shut up or tell me to quit bugging her. She just held up her iPad and snapped another photo of the tigers like she was making a Wild Kingdom documentary. She carried the iPad in a clunky orange case with a long strap, like a crossbody purse she brought everywhere she went.
“Look at their noses. Tigers are the largest species in the cat family,” she said, pointing to the one lounging under a giant tree. “And Siberian tigers are the largest subspecies of tigers.”
“Oh. Right,” I mumbled. It looked like a normal tiger nose to me. They’ll be putting me in a cage by the time this field trip is over, I thought.
“Don’t their noses look just like regular cat noses? And look at the littlest cub. She’s playing, see? Just like Lucy,” Jane said. One of the little cubs batted a pinecone across the grass and skittered after it. It was the cutest thing ever. She had a long, fuzzy nose with an eraser-colored triangle at the end. Just like Tink.
I looked back over at Jane, and her face was different. Calmer. Maybe even happy.
One of the cubs crept up and pounced on another, like a sneak attack. I smiled, thinking of how Tink played with her catnip mouse. “You’re right. They’re not that different,” I said.
Up ahead, I saw Isabel and Hailey disappear around a bend, walking arm-in-arm. It was so unfair that they got to hang out all day. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I said to Jane. I took off running until I caught up to Isabel and Hailey by the zebras.
“Hey, Ash,” Isabel said. “Having fun with Jane?” Hailey rolled her eyes. “Queen of the weirdos. You know she got me in trouble last year over a quiz? She had her mom call the teacher and say I was bullying because I tried to copy off her. I swear, she totally made it up.”
I mean, Jane could be pretty annoying. Little Miss Perfect knew every single math problem, and she probably got extra credit on her extra credit. I should know. I was the one who always got stuck beside her, just because both of our last names start with S-t-r.
“Anyway,” Isabel said, “we were just talking about cheerleading. Hailey was the captain at her old school, you know. Maybe she can help you with the dancing.”
Ugh, dance. That was the one bad thing about cheer. I loved the cartwheels and back handsprings, but we had to learn these dances in between the tricks. Most of the cheer girls got super into shaking their butts and stretching their legs up by their ears. Then there was me, flapping around like Big Bird at a square dance.
“Um,” I said, “I was thinking about doing volleyball. You know, instead.”
“Volleyball?” Isabel said. “So you’re not doing cheer with us?”
“Don’t you have to be tall to play volleyball?” Hailey asked. “I mean, to be good at it.” She looked over at Isabel, who shrugged, and they both looked down at me. When did Isabel get tall enough to see the top of my head, even in her sneakers?
I tried to think of something to say to get out of the awkward silence. “So what’s up with Nick’s tomorrow? My mom said she can drive us there if someone else can pick us up.”
Hailey gave Isabel a quick kick on the foot. It would have been less obvious if she’d just come out and said it.
“Yeah, um, I’m going to Hailey’s after school. Her mom’s gonna drive us to Nick’s,” Isabel said…
This excerpt is published here courtesy of the authors and publisher and should not be reprinted without permission.
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