Bloom (The Overthrow, Band 1) - Softcover

Oppel, Kenneth

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1524773034 ISBN 13: 9781524773038

Verlag: Yearling, 2021

Inhaltsangabe

"The perfect book right now for young readers searching for hope, strength, inspiration — and just a little horticultural havoc."—New York Times
 
The first book in a can't-put-it-down, can't-read-it-fast-enough action-thriller trilogy that's part Hatchet, part Alien!

The invasion begins--but not as you'd expect. It begins with rain. Rain that carries seeds. Seeds that sprout--overnight, everywhere. These new plants take over crop fields, twine up houses, and burrow below streets. They bloom--and release toxic pollens. They bloom--and form Venus flytrap-like pods that swallow animals and people. They bloom--everywhere, unstoppable.

Or are they? Three kids on a remote island seem immune to the toxic plants. Anaya, Petra, Seth. They each have strange allergies--and yet not to these plants. What's their secret? Can they somehow be the key to beating back this invasion? They'd better figure it out fast, because it's starting to rain again....

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

KENNETH OPPEL is one of the most highly regarded authors of middle-grade fiction writing today. Some of his best-known titles are Inkling, The Nest, Airborn, a 2005 Printz Honor Book, and Silverwing. Find him online at www.kennethoppel.ca and @KennethOppel.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

chapter one

 

Anaya

 

Anaya woke up, blind. 

With a sigh, she touched her fingertips to her eyelids. Glued shut. She sat up in bed and sneezed seven times in a row. The inside of her nose was granular with dried snot. She stood and expertly felt her way to the bathroom. She found the stack of washcloths by the sink, and turned on the hot water. The first few times she’d woken up like this, she’d freaked out. By now she was used to it, especially at the height of spring allergy season. Patiently she held the moist, warm cloth against each eyelid in turn, melting away the gunk. She slowly pried her eyes open and stared blearily into the mirror.

“Where have you been all my life, you thing of beauty?” she said to her reflection.

Her face was puffy around her eyes. Normally, she thought her eyes were one of her best features, but right now they looked piggy. The end of her nose was chafed and flaky from blowing it all the time. To jazz things up just a little more, a new bouquet of pimples had blossomed across her skin.

The fading echo of a headache pulsed in her skull, and reminded her of last night’s dream. It was one she’d had many times. She’d been running really fast, and it was exhilarating, even if it did always seem to leave her with a headache. 

She opened the crammed medicine cabinet. Special cleansers and ointments for her acne, extra puffers for asthma, plastic vials of monster pills for her allergies. She slugged back two. This was definitely a two-pill day. 

Anaya started to wash her face, then stopped. What was she doing? She wanted to look as rough as possible. She should’ve left at least one eye glued shut. 

She dragged herself down to the kitchen, trying to shamble like a hunchback. With her nose plugged up, it was pretty hard to smell anything--but she could definitely smell the toast. She imagined a piece of thin, crisp bread with just a swipe of butter, and some marmalade soaking into the glistening surface. She loved toast--before she became allergic to practically half the food on earth. 

Mom was already in her uniform, loading her breakfast things into the dishwasher. 

“I can’t go to school,” Anaya said. 

Her mom turned. “Sweetie . . .” 

“Can you please just call the school?” 

“We let you skip two days last week. Technically, you’re not even sick.” 

Anaya pointed at her face. “If I walked into a hospital, they’d have me in the ICU in two seconds.” 

Mom laughed softly, then came close and brushed Anaya’s long, wavy hair away from her face. “You’re lovely.” 

“My skin’s volcanic!”

“They don’t see your acne, they see you.”

“Only if they have X-ray vision!” 

Mom had no idea. She’d always been beautiful, and she was still the most glamorous mom Anaya had ever seen. Just look at her, tall, slim, raven hair spilling over the crisp collar of her white shirt with the epaulets: four stripes, the only female captain flying for Island Air. Lilah Dara--even her name was pretty. When she put on her sunglasses and bomber jacket, she made a pilot’s uniform look like Paris fashion. 

Meanwhile, Anaya was shorter; she definitely had Dad’s sturdier body type. She didn’t mind that--what she minded was her acne, and not being able to make it through class without having an asthma attack, and feeling generally feeble. 

“Are you using the acne cream?” Mom asked. 

“At night.” 

“You’re supposed to do it during the day, too.”

“It smells so bad!”

“The doctor said it was important.”

“So I can be hideous and gross-smelling!” 

“You are neither,” her mom said, and gave her a hug. 

“If I stay home, I can work more on my history project.” 

“Your marks couldn’t get any higher, Anaya.”

Anaya gave a pitiful cough and wheeze. “There’s gym today,” she said, giving it one last kick at the can. 

“For gym, I will write you a note,” Mom agreed.

Anaya sighed in defeat. Mom was not letting her off school today. Dad, on the other hand, might. 

“I’ve got to go. There’s moong dal cheela, warm in the oven,” Mom said. “Tell Dad not to forget the chutney.”

“Thanks.”

Anaya knew that Mom herself preferred scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, but for Anaya she often made the lentil pancakes, folded over with paneer inside. Lentils were safe. And even though she was lactose-intolerant, for some unknown reason paneer was one of the few cheeses she could handle. Also, the pancakes were delicious.

Mom adjusted the knot of her black tie. “I’ll be back for dinner.” 

“Anywhere good today?”

Mom flew floatplanes, usually de Havilland Beavers, and most of the runs were between Victoria and Vancouver, but there were also plenty of charters between the Gulf Islands, and even farther north.

“I’m bringing back a group that was sport-fishing off Sonora. I’ll probably come home smelling like salmon.”

She hastily wrote a note on the pad by the phone and handed it to Anaya. “It gets better,” she said, kissing her on the forehead. “See you, sweetie.”

She wanted to believe her mother. She wanted to believe that, one day, she’d bloom. She imagined a dull flower suddenly opening its petals, and they were dazzling, and everyone would look up from their phones and whip out their earbuds and gasp and say, Where did that come from! and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful! 

She smiled at the fantasy, and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. Cutting it in half, she popped it into the microwave for forty-five seconds. If she ate it raw, she got bumps all over her lips, and a really itchy tongue. 

Basically, she was allergic to everything. Gluten, eggs, milk. She was allergic to smoke and dust. There were entire months she was allergic to. April was tree pollen, and May, too. June was grass. July was still grass but also mold spores; and then August and September were ragweed. 

It hadn’t always been like this, just the last couple of years. Now her picture was plastered all over the staff room like a wanted poster, alerting teachers to her food allergies, and telling them where her EpiPens were. Anaya carried one with her everywhere. 

She spooned some honey into her mouth. Someone had told her that local raw honey was a good way of curing allergies because it exposed you slowly to all the pollens in your area. She put the kettle on for her green tea--because someone else had told her it was the healthiest thing in the world for you. When you lived on Salt Spring Island, people were always telling you the best things to eat and drink. Things to make you wise and healthy and live forever. 

Dad came into the kitchen, bringing with him the smell of soil. No matter how often he showered, he still smelled like leaf mold and pine needles, and had a line of dirt under his fingernails. He wore the same green merino wool sweater pretty much every day, even though it had frayed at the elbows. He mostly kept his beard tidy, but sometimes it started creeping out of control, like the unruly plants he studied. 

Dad was a botanist with the Ministry of Agriculture, and worked at the island’s experimental farm. When she was younger, Anaya thought an...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Yearling
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2021
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1524773034
• ISBN 13: 9781524773038
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 336
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Penguin Random House Ireland; https://eu-contact.penguin.ie; ; Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street; Dublin; D02 YH68; Irland