Though Tuck was the same blue-black coloring as the Royal ravens, he was smaller, and because he was wild, his wings were not clipped. He was free to fly where he wished, which was usually as close to Forrest as he could get.
The Ravenmaster’s Secret by Elvira Woodruff
New kid. New kid. The words fly around the showers and sinks. I can almost see them, flying up like chickadees startled from the holly tree in the woods.
This is Not a Werewolf Story by Sandra Evans
The school year seemed like an endless flow of programs and performances–first it was the “Halloween Spooker,” and then came the holiday concert, and then the “Midsummer Sing-Along,” then the “Spring-Has-Sprung” program, and finally, the “Graduation Celebration.”
The Last Holiday Concert by Andrew Clements
“I don’t understand,” I said, hoping for another explanation–one that would make sense and get rid of the uncomfortable shaking in my gut. I’d spent my whole life avoiding the Bard, and this was like finding out we were related.
The Total Tragedy of a Girl Named Hamlet by Erin Dionne
Our Christmas pageant isn’t what you’d call four-star entertainment. Mrs. Armstrong breaking her leg was the only unexpected thing that ever happened to it. The script is standard (the inn, the stable, the shepherds, the star), and so are the costumes, and so is the casting.
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
They were standing amidst the trunks of dozens of flowering cherry trees planted in straight rows. The bright pink blossoms filled the air with their cloying smell. Petals spiraled down to the lush carpet of moss below. The garden was so thick with these fanciful petals that it looked as though they had stumbled into a pink snowstorm. Yahgurkin wanted to gag.
Mulrox and the Malcognitos by Kerelyn Smith
A woman waved to us as she paddled by in a light-blue kayak with a white bichon frise wearing a pink life jacket in the kayak with her. The dog looked so happy.
Half a Chance by Cynthia Lord
Pink and red lipstick kisses polka-dotted my face. My hair was tousled and my clothes looked wrinkly After smelling the aunts’ and grandmas’ floral perfumes, I needed lots of fresh oxygen.
Piper Reed, Navy Brat by Kimberly Willis Holt
I crank open my locker and gasp. Three bright pink helium balloons pop out of the locker and float up to the ceiling. In thick black Sharpie, someone has scribbled pointy ears, googly eyes, and a pig snout onto each balloon.
My Life as a Potato by Arianne Costner
The older folks in town like to tell about the night Brett McGrew was born. They say the sky was clear and the moon was full, a moon that lay low on the horizon, big and round and orange, like a basketball. A giant basketball shining down on Stuckey.
Airball: My Life in Briefs by L. D. Harkrader
Middle Grade Carousel 