Trouble Is a Friend of Mine
(Sprache: Englisch)
Sherlock meets Veronica Mars meets Riverdale in this romance where the leading man is decidedly unromantic, and crime novel where catching the crook isn't the only hook.
Of course Zoe Webster...
Of course Zoe Webster...
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Sherlock meets Veronica Mars meets Riverdale in this romance where the leading man is decidedly unromantic, and crime novel where catching the crook isn't the only hook.Of course Zoe Webster didn't like Philip Digby when she first met him. No one does! He's rude and he treats her like a book he's already read and knows the ending to. But Zoe is new in town and her options for friends are . . . limited. And before she knows it, Digby--annoying, brilliant, and somehow attractive?--has dragged her into a series of hilarious and dangerous situations all related to the investigation of a missing local teen girl. When it comes to Digby, Zoe just can't say no. But is Digby's manic quest really worth all the trouble he's getting Zoe into?
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Of course I didn't like Digby when I first met him. No one does. He's rude, he doesn't ever take no for an answer, and he treats you like a book he's already read and knows the ending to even if you yourself didn't yet. Now, if you're a normal sixteen-year-old like I am, and you spend half your time obsessing about the future and what you're supposed to be and spend the other half reading about makeup, diets, and all the ways to change who you already are, then the stuff he hits you with is hard to take. Like Digby himself said: The truth is almost always disappointing.Not that I need him to tell me about the truth. Or disappointment. In the last six months, I went from living in an almost-good part of Brooklyn to my parents divorcing and Mom and me moving to River Heights, a small city in the armpit of upstate New York. Trust me, it's an even bigger lifestyle demotion than it sounds like.
Here's my first confession. I hung out with cool people, sure, but looking back, I think maybe we were friends only because we were in the same classes and our parents all got divorced around the same time. Digby calls them circumstantial friends. Right place, right time-it was easy to be friends, and so we were.
My friendship with Digby, on the other hand, while circumstantially convenient-he just shows up, after all-is not easy. Nothing with that guy ever is. At first, I thought I hung out with him because I was bored and wanted to get back at Mom for moving me here. Then I thought it was because he seemed so lost and alone all the time.
But now I'm standing outside a house wired with enough explosives to blow up our entire block into a pile of matchsticks, trying to figure out the best way to get back in, and I realize that really, I'm the one who's been lost.
But I'm jumping too far ahead. All this began on the first day of school and we need to go back there for you to understand.
ONE
I'd been telling Mom to change the drained batteries in the doorbell
... mehr
since we moved in. The chimes were out of tune and dinging at half their normal speed. They sounded like a robot dying in slow agony. And now some jackass was ringing it over and over. After five minutes of pretending nobody was home, I thought I was going to snap, so I answered the door.
"Nice bell," he said.
He was my age, wearing a black suit that made him look even taller and skinnier than he already was. It was a hot morning and he was sweating into the collar of his white button-down. He held a black book and I would've thought he was a Jehovah's Witness with a Bible, but I doubted they wore sneakers when they came calling. His messy brown hair had probably once been pop-star shaggy, but now it needed cutting. His sad brown eyes turned down at the corners and he had a bored facial expression that I later realized was one of his main weapons in life.
"Sorry, not interested." Just to be safe, I yelled, "It's no one, Mom, just some guy selling something."
"Why are you pretending your mom's home? You're here alone. You guys drove off together, but you're back and her car isn't. I'm guessing she dropped you at school and you walked home," he said. "Next time, fake sick and save her the gas."
I tried another one. "Dad!"
"You only had the one car in the garage-the tires are squishy, by the way-the grass on your lawn that isn't brown is a foot tall, recycling isn't sorted, and you know . . . the doorbell," he said. "There's no dad in the picture."
I was too shocked to deny it.
"What, were you casing the place? Because I gotta tell you, we don't have anything nice." The following catalog ran through my head: letter opener in the hall drawer, knives on the kitchen counter, poker by the busted fireplace in the den, and a collection of advice from Sexual Assault Prevention Day, like: "Never let them take you to a second location."
"Casing the place? No. Well . . . technically, I guess I was casing around your house, but not your actual house," he
"Nice bell," he said.
He was my age, wearing a black suit that made him look even taller and skinnier than he already was. It was a hot morning and he was sweating into the collar of his white button-down. He held a black book and I would've thought he was a Jehovah's Witness with a Bible, but I doubted they wore sneakers when they came calling. His messy brown hair had probably once been pop-star shaggy, but now it needed cutting. His sad brown eyes turned down at the corners and he had a bored facial expression that I later realized was one of his main weapons in life.
"Sorry, not interested." Just to be safe, I yelled, "It's no one, Mom, just some guy selling something."
"Why are you pretending your mom's home? You're here alone. You guys drove off together, but you're back and her car isn't. I'm guessing she dropped you at school and you walked home," he said. "Next time, fake sick and save her the gas."
I tried another one. "Dad!"
"You only had the one car in the garage-the tires are squishy, by the way-the grass on your lawn that isn't brown is a foot tall, recycling isn't sorted, and you know . . . the doorbell," he said. "There's no dad in the picture."
I was too shocked to deny it.
"What, were you casing the place? Because I gotta tell you, we don't have anything nice." The following catalog ran through my head: letter opener in the hall drawer, knives on the kitchen counter, poker by the busted fireplace in the den, and a collection of advice from Sexual Assault Prevention Day, like: "Never let them take you to a second location."
"Casing the place? No. Well . . . technically, I guess I was casing around your house, but not your actual house," he
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Stephanie Tromly
Stephanie Tromly was born in Manila, grew up in Hong Kong, graduated from the University of Pennsylvania, and worked as a screenwriter in Los Angeles. She is the author of Trouble is a Friend of Mine and lives in Winnipeg with her husband and young son.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Stephanie Tromly
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 12 Jahre
- 2016, 352 Seiten, Masse: 13,6 x 20,8 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Speak
- ISBN-10: 0147515432
- ISBN-13: 9780147515438
- Erscheinungsdatum: 24.05.2016
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
***Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year***"I am in awe of Tromly because of what she has pulled off a funny, realistic teen crime caper. Do you know how hard it is to get those right? It's basically impossible. But this book sings." Jesse Andrews, author of Me and Earl and the Dying Girl and The Haters
"In what reads like a combination of Veronica Mars and The Breakfast Club, debut author Tromly creates a screwball mystery with powerful crossover appeal." Publishers Weekly, starred review
"This debut novel sparkles. Absolutely nothing slows down the pace of this outrageous romp. . . . This is one of those rare books that promises something unique and actually delivers beyond expectation. At least one copy belongs in every young adult collection." VOYA, starred review
"Fast-talking, suit-wearing Digby is an exasperating teenage Sherlock sharply observant, impatient with social niceties, and unafraid of authority figures. . . . Fans of Veronica Mars and Elementary will find much to like here . . . Zoe's sarcastic first-person narration is fresh and funny . . . an offbeat and entertaining caper." Kirkus
"An engrossing and satisfying read . . . Hand this one out along with a Chandler or Hammett classic and the first season of Veronica Mars." BCCB, starred review
"A fast-paced story. . . . Readers will find a sharply drawn character in the irrepressible Zoe, who's as dubious about Digby's methods as she is curious about whether or not she can live up to his daredevilry." SLJ
"With acerbic banter and a healthy dose of high-school high jinks, screenwriter Tromly weaves together traditional elements of teen stories to create a Breakfast Club for a new century." Booklist
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