"Jerry Spinelli has created another middle grade masterpiece. These are unforgettable characters.  ...authentic and frequently funny...riveting." —BookPage, starred review

"Spinelli shines at setting a tongue-in-cheek tone for a tale with serious underpinnings, and as in Stargirl, readers will be swept into the relationship that develops between this adolescent odd couple. Characters to love, quips to snort at, insights to ponder." —Kirkus Reviews, starred review

"Spinelli writes with wry humor that still makes room for sweetness and a belief in the impossible. A stellar pick for tween collections." —Booklist, starred review

"Spinelli captures eighth-grade social dynamics, Worm’s self-erasure, and Becca’s confidence with vivid authenticity." —The Bulletin, starred review

“This fever dream of a story about self-acceptance and forgiveness is unforgettable.” —Shelf Awareness, starred review

"Centering meaningful themes of ephemerality, forgiveness, and self-acceptance, Spinelli’s characters will undoubtedly dig their way into the hearts of readers who need them most." —Publishers Weekly

"Spinelli makes the relationship between a boy and a ghost heartwarming; the life lessons of a dead girl profound; and social commentary astute but not didactic. Dialogue is snappy, and every scene is tight and memorable." —The Horn Book Magazine

"Throughout his career, Newbery Medalist Jerry Spinelli has shown he’s a master of evoking the particular pangs felt in adolescence." —Time Magazine

Autorentext
JERRY SPINELLI is the author of many novels for young readers, including Dead Wednesday, The Warden's Daughter; Stargirl; Love, Stargirl; Milkweed; Crash; Wringer; and Maniac Magee, winner of the Newbery Medal; along with Knots in My Yo-Yo String, the autobiography of his childhood. A graduate of Gettysburg College, he lives in Pennsylvania with his wife, poet and author Eileen Spinelli.

Kirby Heyborne is an American musician and actor. After graduating from the University of Utah with a degree in economics, he received critical acclaim for his starring role in the award-winning World War II drama Saints and Soldiers. He has starred in many feature films and national commercials, and has appeared on Everwood and Free Ride. He is well known for his narration and voice work on several audiobooks. In addition, he can frequently be found touring the country with his singing and songwriting act.

Klappentext

Can playing dead bring you back to life? Maybe on Dead Wednesday… On this day the worlds of a shy boy and a gone girl collide, and the connection they make will change them both forever. A brilliant new novel from the Newbery Medal winner and author of the New York Times bestseller Stargirl.

"Jerry Spinelli has created another middle grade masterpiece." -BookPage, starred review

On Dead Wednesday, every eighth grader in Amber Springs is assigned the name and identity of a teenager who died a preventable death in the past year. The kids don black shirts and for the whole day everyone in town pretends they're invisible-as if they weren't even there. The adults think it will make them contemplate their mortality. The kids know it's a free pass to get away with anything.

Worm Tarnauer feels invisible every day. He's perfectly happy being the unnoticed sidekick of his friend Eddie. So he's not expecting Dead Wednesday to feel that different. But he didn't count on being assigned Becca Finch (17, car crash). And he certainly didn't count on Becca showing up to boss him around! Letting this girl into his head is about to change everything.

This is the story of the unexpected, heartbreaking, hilarious, truly epic day when Worm Tarnauer discovers his own life.

Leseprobe

6:57 a.m.

No way. 

This is Worm’s first groggy thought even before he opens his eyes. He actually whispers it to his pillow: “No way.” Because the feeling he wakes up with--the same one he went to bed with--makes no sense: he wants to go to school.

Wants to!

But now--eyes open, head clearing--he realizes it’s true. For the first time in his life, he does want to go to school. He deliciously reviews the reasons:

1. It’s a half day--hah!--if . . .

2. . . . if you’re an eighth grader. Then you get to motorize on outta there at the end of fourth period. That’s 11:43 if you’re keeping score. And OMG, does it get any better? . . . Even though he’ll be there, it’ll be like he’s not there. Think it again, Worm: like he’s not there. Why? Because of this dumb, gorgeous thing called Dead Wednesday. He’s been hearing it since his elementary days: if you’re an eighth grader, you get to be invisible. In the past two years he’s witnessed it. No teacher will ask you a question. Nobody will hassle you. You can goof off all you want and nobody will care. Worm has witnessed Frisbees and moose calls flying in the hallways. Eddie himself has said many times: “You can stand on the teacher’s desk and blow a rocket blastoff fart, and you won’t get sent to Discipline.”

Worm doesn’t doubt Eddie. But neither does he care much about the license to goof off. To begin with, he’s not a goof-offer. Plus, he likes the part about being invisible. For Worm is well named. He prefers to be out of sight, underground, watching, listening. A spectator. He walked the world unseen. That would be Worm’s perfect epitaph. He mouths a silent thank-you to the Wrappers.

3. Every minute spent in school brings the end of it closer. Seven days and a wake-up. And then comes the only thing that makes the nine and a half months of school endurable: the ocean, the prairie, the vast Siberia of schoolless time known as summer vacation.

So yeah . . . today . . . today he wants to go to school.

Oh . . . and how could he forget?

4. The fight. Jeep Waterstone and Snake Davis are going to fight at twelve-thirty at the old cannon in Veterans Park. They’ve hated each other since first grade and they’re finally going to settle it.

So Worm has awakened to a day like no other, a day of four beautiful things. He stretches in bed, reviews the beautiful things in his mind. . . .

Every Thanksgiving, when two grandmas and a grandpa show up, Worm’s father stands over the turkey and smothers everybody in a stupid grin and shakes his head as if he can’t believe it and says, “We are truly blessed.” Until that moment passes, Worm is always a tight knot of cringe. But now, for the first time, he gets it. He is blessed.

7:10 a.m.

Worm’s pj bottoms are down at his knees when his bedroom door begins to open. He screams, “Mom!”

The door slams shut.

“You’re never up!” she screams back.

“Well, I’m up today!”

“You’re never up!”

“I’m up!”

“Every morning I have to drag you out of bed”--he can tell by her receding voice that she’s heading back down the hallway--“every morning of your life. . . .”

Did she see him?

He doesn’t think so. He caught a glimpse of her chin and fingers at the edge of the door, but no eye.

He quickly fumbles out of his pj’s and into his clothes. As he’s pulling on his sneaks, he wonders how many will show up at the fight. All the guys, he figures. And some girls. Shoot--maybe even a teacher or two!

He tugs his laces tight. He smiles. He allows himself a little giggle. He whispers to his sneaks: “I am truly blessed.”

7:13 a.m.

The blessing abruptly ends as Worm walks the plank.

That’s what it feels li…