Skin Deep

by CRANE, E. M.

• ISBN13: 9780440240341
• ISBN10: 0440240344
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Trade Book
• Copyright: 2009-05-12
• Publisher: Laurel Leaf

Summary

Winner of the Delacorte Press Prize for a First Young Adult Novel. If all the world's a stage, Andrea Anderson is sitting in the audience. High school has its predictable heroes, heroines, villains, and plotlines, and Andrea has no problem guessing how each drama will turn out. She is, after all, a professional spectator. In the social hierarchy she is a Nothing, and at home her mother runs the show. All Andrea has to do is show up every day and life basically plays out as scripted. Then one day Andrea accepts a job. Honora Menapacea reclusive neighboris sick. As in every other aspect of her life, Andrea's role is clear: Honora's garden must be taken care of and her pottery finished, and someone needs to feed her dog, Zena. But what starts out as a simple job yanks Andrea's back-row seat out from under her. Life is no longer predictable, and nothing is what it seems. Light is dark, villains are heroes, and what she once saw as ugly is too beautiful for words. Andrea must face the fact that life at first glance doesn't even crack the surface. "[An] involving first novel depicting a pivotal year of loss, change, and awakening."Booklist "Crane shows readers about self-discovery and the importance of passion and strength."Publishers Weekly

Author Biography

E. M. Crane is the winner of the 2006 Delacorte Press Contest for a First Young Adult Novel. She lives in Sackets Harbor, New York, where she is a fulltime writer. Skin Deep is her first book for young readers.


From the Hardcover edition.

Excerpts

My name is Andrea.
My locker is the fourth one down from Mrs. Donough's room. She's the teacher they call the Doughnut.
The Doughnut teaches earth science and I think she's all right, but I guess you can't be a fat teacher with a last name like Donough and get off easy. If you look like adorable little Kimberlee Dorcus, with her tiny sweaters and lip-glossed mouth, not too many people will call you the Dork because of your last name. But the Doughnut isn't cute and perky. Kimberlee is.
Actually, I consider myself lucky not to have a horrible last name. It's Anderson. Andrea Anderson. If I had a last name like Beagle or Dumley, I'd be screwed. There are kids with ugly faces or bad skin, annoying personalities or fat thighs. There's the girl with the receding chin that makes her nose look like a ski jump. The boy with bad breath. These are the kids who learn to keep to the edges, to hide.
Then there's that other category of kids. The Desirables. Them.
I am definitely not one of them. I am plainish, boring, nervous. Average student. No school activities. Andrea Anderson, a Nothing. I just am.
It's better to know where one falls in the social stratosphere, and I fall somewhere between Too Lame to Invite to a Party and Too Ugly to Go Out With. I move through the halls of school as if I'm not really there. The hallways between classes are like the stage in the school auditorium. There are actors performing roles from different plays, not noticing that a million other performances are going on at the same time. Simmonsville High School Presents: Act 1--Cheerleader Ashley Gets Bad Haircut and Cries. Act 2--Psycho Tries to Make Crystal Meth in Science Lab. Act 3--Future Valedictorian Accused of Cheating on History Test. Some acts, naturally, are accompanied by predictable choreography. And it's the choreography of the Cheerleaders I'm watching from my locker: they are huddled around Cheerleader Ashley-with-Bad-Haircut's locker. Ashley-with-Bad-Haircut dabs at tear-stained cheeks in a tiny locker mirror.
"It'll grow back, honey," Teena Santucci is saying, running her jewel-color fingernails through her own glossy hair. Teena wears a diamond-studded bar through her navel that makes me shudder because it had to hurt, didn't it?
The Doughnut sticks her lightbulb head out her door. She looks right through me to the Cheerleaders and sighs.
"Okay, ladies, get to homeroom."
Ashley-with-Bad-Haircut frantically repairs her makeup as the Cheerleaders drift away.
"The bell hasn't even rung yet, Mrs. Donough," Teena mouths off, but she's already heading down the hall. The Doughnut ignores her and pulls her big head back into her classroom.
The bell rings, and it's just me and sniffling Ashley in the hall. Ashley grabs a notebook from her locker. She slams it shut. She sees me looking at her and looks back, not smiling.
"Tell me the truth," she says.
Her eyes are red-rimmed, outlined with gray eyeliner. Her face and neck are flushed and pretty, like she's just dashed back to the sidelines from the center of the basketball court. She's wearing a blue kilt and a tight baby-doll T-shirt just concealing her stomach.
Her hair isn't so bad, I decide. But I hesitate to tell her. If I say it looks okay, she'll think I'm kissing up. If I say it's horrible, she'll think I'm a jerk.
"About my hair," she says when I don't answer right away. She points to her head as if I'm stupid. What used to be a sleek ponytail is now a short bob, gelled to stick out here and there. Tousled.
"I guess it matters more how you like it, not how I like it," I say, shrugging.
"Well, I hate it," she barks.
I shrug again and shut my locker.
"Doesn't make a difference to me either way," I say.
Ashley doesn't respond. I notice from the corner of my eye that she's still standing there, facing me.
I look up.
Ashley's face is registering surp

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Excerpted from Skin Deep by E. M. Crane
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.