I couldn’t keep my jaw from falling open. The house was not a house, nor was it a mansion—it was somewhere between a mall and a castle. There were more chimneys and windows than any chimney or window store could ever possibly stock.
Pillage
Obert Skye
If your last name ended in “berg” or “zog” or “stein,” you lived on the north side. If your last name ended in “elli” or “ini” or “o,” you lived on the south side….my house was right smack in the middle of town. Not on the north side. Not on the south side. Just somewhere in between.
The Wednesday Wars
Gary D. Schmidt
I am on my mountain in a tree home that people have passed without ever knowing that I am here. The house is a hemlock tree six feet in diameter, and must be as old as the mountain itself.
My Side of the Mountain
Jean Craighead George
“Aye, lad, it’s an inn,” said the ragman, and all at once it came into sight, a ramshackle, three-story house, lit up bone-white in the moonlight.
The Half-A-Moon Inn
Paul Fleischman
It is a common misconception that places that have suffered psychic trauma must look sinister, too, with gaping windows, creaking doors, and walls twisted subtly out of shape. As with people, so with houses—a smiling, innocuous exterior can conceal the blackest heart.
The Creeping Shadow
Jonathan Stroud
She opened her mouth, and I could see her long purple tongue. It flicked out and then curled back in. Like the rest of her, her teeth had increased in size. I made a mental note never to stick my hand in her mouth.
Choke
Obert Skye
Anastasia had read about orphans in storybooks. To an almost-eleven-year-old girl with two parents, orphans had been sort of a mythical figure, like unicorns and mermaids. A creature that lived in the pages of a book. And now she was one. An orphan, that is. Not a unicorn.
The League of Beastly Dreadfuls
Holly Grant
It was a while before they realized that a mermaid had surfaced at the shallow end of the pool. Her hair was pale and silvery and her nails were a shimmering blue. Between each finger was a thin webbing, of the sort you might find on a newborn seal or a duck.
Aquamarine
Alice Hoffman
Her fingers traced the knobby outlines of her kneecaps. She had studied her knees a million times. Mermaids did not have knees. Keeper did. Her knees were right there.
Keeper
Kathi Appelt
The first of May. It was May Day! When they were little, she and Thomas always made May baskets from construction paper and filled them with tissue-paper flowers. They’d sneak over to Mr. Pickering’s front porch, hang the baskets on his doorknob, then ring the doorbell. Before Mr. Pickering answered, they would run home. Mr. Pickering always pretended not to know who had left the surprise.
Giant Pumpkin Suite
Melanie Heuiser Hill
Middle Grade Carousel 