The Ghost of Spruce Point (Libro en Inglés)

$ 817.00
ISBN: 9781534486119
por Aladdin
ISBN: 9781534486119
Editorial: Aladdin
Autor: Tandon, Nancy
Año de edición: 2022
N° Paginas: 336
Tipo de pasta: Pasta dura
Descripción: A young boy must unravel a curse to save his family’s beloved Maine motel in this spooky middle grade novel sure to delight fans of Whispering Pines and The Peculiar Incident on Shady Street!Twelve-year-old Parker has grown up in his family’s Home Away Inn, nestled on a wooded peninsula in Maine called Spruce Point. His best friend, Frankie, has been staying at the inn every summer for years with her family. Together, they’ve had epic adventures based out of a nearby old treehouse that serves as their official headquarters for Kids Confidential Meetings. But lately, business at the inn hasn’t been great, and Parker is pretty sure he knows why. It’s long been rumored that Mrs. Gruvlig, one of the few year-rounders on Spruce Point, has unique abilities of the supernatural kind. And Frankie is absolutely sure she saw a ghost on Mrs. Gruvlig’s property! As more and more spooky happenings occur around the Point, Parker and Frankie are convinced Spruce Point has been officially cursed. About the Author Nancy Tandon is a former teacher and speech/language pathologist who now writes for children full time. Her work has been awarded by the Shoreline Arts Alliance and New England Chapter of SCBWI. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One: Anchors Aweigh Chapter One ANCHORS AWEIGH THE BLOODRED MOON casts an eerie glow over the bay. Fog lifts off the ocean and swirls around us as the lapping splash of the incoming tide sways the thick wooden posts of the dock beneath me. If there is a perfect time and place for a ghost story, I’m sitting smack-dab in the middle of it. “Tell it again, Dad. Please tell it!” Dad steps back from the telescope and sits next to me, our legs dangling above the dark, churning water. He tightens the hood of his parka against the late-May chill and takes a big sniff of the air. I do the same. If one of the fancy tourist shops in Bar Harbor ever made a candle called Spruce Point, it would smell like this: a mix of spruce, pine, and fir trees layered with the heavy scent of briny ocean. “You know every detail of this story,” Dad says, knocking his shoulder against mine. “You should tell it to me.” “You tell it better,” I say. “And Lee Lee’s not here, so don’t leave out any of the scary parts.” Mom took my sister, Bailey, up to bed already, after they’d had a look at the special moon too. When the moon is full and at its closest to the earth, that’s a supermoon. And tonight there’s a lunar eclipse too, which makes the moon look red and even cooler. A super blood moon like this only happens once every several years. I’m the one who tracks all this stuff, and the telescope was my tenth birthday present two years ago. At school, some kids call me Mr. Moon. But not in a mean way. They just know it’s my thing. During the school year, Bailey and I ride a van forty-five minutes each way to Bridgewater Consolidated with almost all the other kids who live in tiny towns around this part of Maine. That’s pretty much the only time we get to see our friends since it’s too far of a drive for our parents to get to any outside-of-school stuff. And even though I miss my friends in the summer, I do not miss that boring van ride. But luckily, I have one summer friend who makes up for living so far away from everyone: Frankie Wilkins. Every summer since we were six, Frankie’s family has rented the cottage right next door to our house, a.k.a. the Home Away Inn, my family’s year-round business. I wish she were here to see this right now, but at least she’ll be here soon—seventeen days and counting. A wave rolls in and licks at the bottom of our boots. The tide will be about two feet higher than usual tonight, and that’s on top of the already elevated sea level everyone around here is always worried about. Dad pulls his legs up onto the dock and turns toward me. “It was a night just like tonight.” His voice rumbles low, like he’s narrating a movie trailer. “The sailor
  • Idioma: Inglés
  • Envío: Desde EE. UU.
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