Julep O'Toole artwork by Dan Yaccarino; text by Trudi Trueit, copyright
2010. All materials used with permission from Dutton Children's Books.
2010. All materials used with permission from Dutton Children's Books.
| "Ms. Trueit has created a truly warm, funny and honest character that readers will come to really care about."' - Missouri State University Libraries |
Julep Antoinette O'Toole is an M.M.M.C
(miserable, misunderstood middle child).
Caught between her popular older sister and
spoiled younger brother, Julep often feels
like air (there, but not really there). Will Julep
find her place in her family? Will she stop
embarrassing herself on a daily basis? And
will she ever, finally, appear? Find out in
Confessions of a Middle Child. For ages 8 - 13.
(miserable, misunderstood middle child).
Caught between her popular older sister and
spoiled younger brother, Julep often feels
like air (there, but not really there). Will Julep
find her place in her family? Will she stop
embarrassing herself on a daily basis? And
will she ever, finally, appear? Find out in
Confessions of a Middle Child. For ages 8 - 13.
| "This realistic, well-drawn combination of scene, character, and plot strongly reveals the heart of a tween coming to grips with herself, her world and her family." - Kirkus Reviews |
| "Julep's voice is bright,witty, and thoughtful, and her story will ring true for many a budding adolescent." - School Library Journal |
| ". . . Julep's perky diary entries, peppered throughout the narrative, bring intimacy to the wry, often heartfelt story, which stresses that growing up doesn't necessarily mean growing apart from family." - Booklist |
| "Trueit displays a deft hand for zingy comic writing that easily hits her target audience . . . Pure fun." - Kirkus Reviews |
In the sequel to Confessions of a Middle Child,
Julep is back and she's ready to fight for her
right to make her own decisions. Why can't her
mother realize that she's grown up enough to
have a cell phone and choose her own
clothes? After the pair have a big blow-up at
the mall, Julep is left to wonder if they'll ever
find any common ground. It's up to Julep to
find a way to connect with her mom, but can
anything, even Julep's clever plan, save their
rocky relationship?
Julep is back and she's ready to fight for her
right to make her own decisions. Why can't her
mother realize that she's grown up enough to
have a cell phone and choose her own
clothes? After the pair have a big blow-up at
the mall, Julep is left to wonder if they'll ever
find any common ground. It's up to Julep to
find a way to connect with her mom, but can
anything, even Julep's clever plan, save their
rocky relationship?
And the Oscar goes to . . .
The promise of much-needed extra credit in
English class pushes a nervous Julep to
audition for the school play. After flubbing her
try-out, she ends up at the bottom of the list
for crew. Just as she’s about to quit, Julep
finds herself promoted to Assistant Director!
Finally, she's found something she’s good at
doing! But just weeks before the play opens,
everything comes crashing down. Will Julep
ever get her chance to shine?
The promise of much-needed extra credit in
English class pushes a nervous Julep to
audition for the school play. After flubbing her
try-out, she ends up at the bottom of the list
for crew. Just as she’s about to quit, Julep
finds herself promoted to Assistant Director!
Finally, she's found something she’s good at
doing! But just weeks before the play opens,
everything comes crashing down. Will Julep
ever get her chance to shine?
| Don't forget to check out Trudi's blog! Click HERE |
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A New Jersey Garden State Book Award Nominee!
Taking a shallow breath, Julep tried to calm her Jell-O knees. She wasn't
good at public speaking, or public anything for that matter. Whenever she
had to get up in front of people, Julep's hands began to sweat. Her
fingertips went numb. Her eyes had trouble focusing. Her stomach would—
Oh, no!
The corn chips she'd gulped down ten minutes ago were doing back flips in
her digestive tract. Julep cleared her throat. Calvin let out a long, low burp.
Julep took three small steps to the left. Calvin copied her, but took larger
steps to close the distance between them.
"Zit Head," she muttered.
"Pooky bear." Calvin made smooching sounds.
Julep gagged, the taste of corn chips coming back to haunt her. She
couldn't do this. She could NOT do this.
The sooner you say it, she told herself, the sooner you can go home and
take a boiling hot shower to wash off the Calvin germs.
She could do this.
Julep shielded herself with the script so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"I know I'm sopping wet from the storm," she said, her voice quivering. "But
you must believe me when I tell you that I am far more than I appear. Truly, I
am a real . . . I am a real . . . whoa!"
The Princess and the Pea script had leapt from Julep's moist hands. She
tried to get it back, but the pair of stapled pages had already caught the
breeze from an open window. They fluttered just out of her reach.
"One sec," Julep cried. "I'll . . . I'll get it, Mrs. Picklehaupt. Hold on
. . . " She tripped across the stage, trying to tune out the snickers
coming from the cafeteria.
A few feet above Julep's head, her script was happily riding the mini jet
stream. It did several impressive loop-de-loops, giving Julep the chance to
scamper across the stage to get ahead of it. Crouching, she waited until the
script was directly above her. Then at the precise moment it came down on
the bottom half of a loop she propelled herself skyward. Julep stretched out
her arm, grunted, and grabbed . . . grabbed . . .
. . . Air.
good at public speaking, or public anything for that matter. Whenever she
had to get up in front of people, Julep's hands began to sweat. Her
fingertips went numb. Her eyes had trouble focusing. Her stomach would—
Oh, no!
The corn chips she'd gulped down ten minutes ago were doing back flips in
her digestive tract. Julep cleared her throat. Calvin let out a long, low burp.
Julep took three small steps to the left. Calvin copied her, but took larger
steps to close the distance between them.
"Zit Head," she muttered.
"Pooky bear." Calvin made smooching sounds.
Julep gagged, the taste of corn chips coming back to haunt her. She
couldn't do this. She could NOT do this.
The sooner you say it, she told herself, the sooner you can go home and
take a boiling hot shower to wash off the Calvin germs.
She could do this.
Julep shielded herself with the script so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"I know I'm sopping wet from the storm," she said, her voice quivering. "But
you must believe me when I tell you that I am far more than I appear. Truly, I
am a real . . . I am a real . . . whoa!"
The Princess and the Pea script had leapt from Julep's moist hands. She
tried to get it back, but the pair of stapled pages had already caught the
breeze from an open window. They fluttered just out of her reach.
"One sec," Julep cried. "I'll . . . I'll get it, Mrs. Picklehaupt. Hold on
. . . " She tripped across the stage, trying to tune out the snickers
coming from the cafeteria.
A few feet above Julep's head, her script was happily riding the mini jet
stream. It did several impressive loop-de-loops, giving Julep the chance to
scamper across the stage to get ahead of it. Crouching, she waited until the
script was directly above her. Then at the precise moment it came down on
the bottom half of a loop she propelled herself skyward. Julep stretched out
her arm, grunted, and grabbed . . . grabbed . . .
. . . Air.
