{"product_id":"the-underdogs-of-upson-downs-isbn-9780593703663","title":"The Underdogs of Upson Downs","description":"\u003cb\u003eA heartwarming and hilarious story about a girl and her dog, and of kindness, friendship, hurdles, tunnels, see-saws, and—most importantly—bringing out the best in yourself and others.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie Shearer lives in the country town of Upson Downs with her best friend, an adopted stray dog called Runt. The two share a very special bond.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter years evading capture, Runt is remarkably fast and agile, perfect for herding runaway sheep. But when a greedy local landowner puts her family's home at risk, Annie directs Runt's extraordinary talents toward a different pursuit--winning the Agility Course Grand Championship at the lucrative Krumpets Dog Show in London.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHowever, there is a curious catch: Runt will only obey Annie's commands if nobody else is watching.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith all eyes on them, Annie and Runt must beat the odds--and the fastest dogs in the world--to save her farm.★ \"A \u003cb\u003eperfect\u003c\/b\u003e run of a novel with the heart of a champion.\" —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"[An] affirming small-town adventure that \u003cb\u003eradiates good humor and a generous spirit\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"A ­\u003cb\u003edelightful\u003c\/b\u003e novel about a girl and her dog that will capture the imaginations of ­readers.\"\u003ci\u003e —School Library Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“\u003cb\u003eHeartwarming\u003c\/b\u003e….this one is sure to please middle-grade readers.”\u003ci\u003e —Booklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"A heart-warming, underdog story that will appeal to readers of all ages.\" —YABooksCentral\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eCraig Silvey is an author and screenwriter. His bestselling novel \u003ci\u003eJasper Jones\u003c\/i\u003e, was a Printz Honor winner, shortlisted for the International Dublin Literary Awards and the Miles Franklin Literary Award, and won the Australian Book Industry Awards Book of the Year Award. His other books include \u003ci\u003eRhubarb\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eHoneybee,\u003c\/i\u003ewhich won the Australian Indie Book Award in 2021.Meet Annie\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Annie Shearer lives in the town of Upson Downs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She is eleven years old and short for her age. She has brown hair and brown eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She lives on a sheep farm with her parents, Bryan and Susie; her brother, Max; and her grandma Dolly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e People in Upson Downs think Annie is a bit different.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They think it’s weird that she wears an old leather tool belt wherever she goes, even though Annie finds it useful having so many pockets to store items that can be used to fix things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They think it’s odd that they have never seen her laugh, even though she is often quite happy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They think it’s strange that they’ve never seen her cry, even though she is sometimes quite sad.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They worry she must be lonely, because she spends so much time by herself. But Annie cares deeply about people and quite enjoys her own company--and besides, she has a very best friend.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He is a dog.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And his name is Runt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Annie knows she is a bit different, but she doesn’t think she is weird or odd or strange. The truth is, everybody is unique. No two people are the same. Even identical twins can have different interests. And it makes the world a more interesting place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Annie enjoys reading about exotic creatures with hidden talents.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For example, in the darkest depths of the ocean, there’s a fish with a glowing flashlight poking out of its head. It’s called an anglerfish.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the forests of Australia, there’s a bird that can mimic perfectly any sound that it hears. It’s called a lyrebird.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In Africa, there’s a frog that lives in a bubble of its own snot. It’s called an African bullfrog.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And in Upson Downs, there is Runt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Runt can’t mimic any sounds, he doesn’t have a light sprouting from his head, and he doesn’t live in a bubble of snot, but his hidden talents are extraordinary.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Right now, Annie is at school.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s a very hot Tuesday afternoon, and Ms. Formsby is teaching the class about storms. She points to a chart displaying the water cycle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “. . . and so the vapor rises way up into the sky, where it collects and condenses into these dark clouds. And when it gets too heavy to hold on any longer, it falls back down. Which is commonly referred to as what?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ms. Formsby fans herself with a sheet of paper and looks at her students expectantly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Only one hand goes up. It is Annie’s.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ken Bash, in the back corner, is asleep.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Ken, mind answering this one?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ken startles awake, sits up straight, and looks around as though he’s surprised to be there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh. Uh.” He squints and guesses, “Three hundred and seventy-five?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The class giggles as Ms. Formsby sighs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “No, Ken. Math was this morning, mate. The answer is rain. Rain is what falls from the sky. Thank you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ken isn’t finished.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “But three hundred and seventy-five is the number of days since it’s rained in Upson Downs. I heard my dad say it this morning.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Is that really true?” asks Ms. Formsby.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Yes!” the whole class says together.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It’s awful!” says Claudia Velour, who thinks it’s important to be beautiful. “I’m only allowed to wash my hair once a month!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “What do you mean, wash your hair?” asks Fiona Grudge, who couldn’t care less about being beautiful.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “My mum reckons if the drought goes on much longer, we might have to sell our farm,” says Dustin Brayshaw.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Mine said that too!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Mine too!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “We just sold our place,” says Ben Nguyen quietly. “We’re moving to the city to live with my aunty and uncle. I don’t really want to go.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Everyone feels bad for Ben, including Annie, who is in the back row, tightening a loose screw on the chair in front of her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fixing things is Annie’s hidden talent. If something is wrong, she wants to make it right. But some problems are so tricky that it’s not clear how to solve them, or they’re so large that the solution doesn’t fit in her tool belt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Like the drought, for example.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Or the fact that her family might lose their home too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A car horn interrupts the class. Everyone goes quiet. The horn honks again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Annie! Annie!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Outside, Bryan Shearer has parked his truck on the grass beside the classroom. He is a big man, with square shoulders and a round beard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ms. Formsby pokes her head out of the window.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Mr. Shearer, there are less disruptive ways to collect your daughter. I recommend the car park and the main entrance, after the final bell.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It’s an emergency!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Again? This is the third time this month!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Can’t be helped, I’m afraid.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He honks the horn again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the classroom, Annie has returned the screwdriver to her tool belt and packed her schoolbag. She moves swiftly toward the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Sorry, Ms. Formsby,” she says. “I’ve already done my homework. It’s on your desk.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Annie runs down the hall and through the main doors, and rushes to get into the truck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Because there’s a problem, and only she can fix it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e With Runt’s help, of course.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Upson Downs\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Bryan drives through the main street of Upson Downs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They pass empty storefronts with window banners that say For Sale or For Lease. They pass Patel’s Petals, the florist. Raelene’s Relics, the antique store. They pass the bank, the butcher, and the newsagent. They pass the Golden Fleece, the only pub left in town. They pass the abandoned town hall and the deserted railway station. They pass the Big Ram, a giant statue fallen into disrepair. It has a broken horn and a damaged eye. A sign beneath it says Thank Ewe for Visiting!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But nobody visits anymore.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For more than a hundred years, Upson Downs was busy and thriving. Home to thousands of people and thousands more sheep, Upson Downs was famous for producing the finest wool in the world. The luxurious fleece was praised by Parisian designers and prized by tailors on London’s Savile Row.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The vast plains and valleys were kept green by the deep river and creeks that ran through it. It was a beautiful, vibrant place, full of wildlife and wildflowers. There were restaurants and festivals and dance halls and sporting clubs. There were stockyards and bake sales and charity events. People poured in from across the country, and Upson Downs welcomed them all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then everything was ruined by one man.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Bryan’s rickety truck rattles along a single-lane road. Around them are brown paddocks with tufts of dry grass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Sorry to come and grab you early again,” Bryan says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It’s okay.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything too interesting.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “We were learning about storms.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh yeah? Could do with a few of those. You know, your grandpa Wally studied them too at one point. I remember him talking about a harebrained scheme to make his own rain clouds.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Annie turns to look at him, interested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Really?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Yeah. It was all about attracting lightning. Something about electrical currents positively charging water droplets to make them heavier. I couldn’t make any sense of it. He was a deep thinker, as you know. Had a lot of wild ideas.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Did he write it down?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Not sure. I wouldn’t pay it much attention, though, mate,” says Bryan.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s too late; Annie is intrigued.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Bryan pulls up outside the Shearers’ old timber farmhouse, bringing a cloud of dust behind him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And there, sitting in the shade beside his timber doghouse, is Runt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Runt is three years old and short for his age. He has brown fur and brown eyes. Annie doesn’t know what breed he is. Maybe kelpie. Maybe heeler. Maybe shepherd. Maybe terrier. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them. Annie doesn’t really care. He’s just Runt, and that’s all that matters.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bryan winds the window down and whistles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Come on, Runt! Get in!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The dog doesn’t move.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Come on, mate! In you get!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Runt doesn’t budge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bryan turns to Annie. He smiles and winks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Always worth a try,” he says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Annie’s mother, Susie, and her grandma Dolly both appear outside. Dolly coughs and waves away the last of the dust with a greasy rag. She wears a pair of blue denim overalls and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She has short gray hair and brown leather boots.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The dog won’t listen to you, Bryan, you absolute melon! Go and get Annie!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I’m here, Grandma!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Dolly stoops and squints into the truck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh! So you are.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “They haven’t got out again, have they?” Susie asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Afraid so.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bryan climbs out of the truck, leaving the door open, and shoos Susie and Dolly away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Quick! Back into the house!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Susie, Dolly, and Bryan all retreat and hide. Carefully, Bryan peeks around the corner of the house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Once the two of them are alone, Runt looks at Annie, who looks back at Runt. Annie makes the faintest upward nod of her head, and Runt bursts forward, leaps into the truck, and sits happily on Annie’s lap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bryan smiles and shakes his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then he hurries to the truck, because time is running out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The Collector\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Across the road from the Shearers’ farm are hundreds of acres of lush green pasture surrounded by white wooden fences. It’s a sprawling oasis, where dozens of thoroughbred horses prance about with glistening coats.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Past the iron gates of the entrance, a long driveway snakes all the way up a steep hill to an enormous sandstone manor. From here, one man surveys the parched plains of Upson Downs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His name is Earl Robert-Barren.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His home has sixty rooms, yet Earl lives alone and has never entertained a single guest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A staff of gardeners keeps a lawn tennis court manicured to pristine perfection, yet Earl has never picked up a racquet. The only things he has ever served are papers, because Earl is a senior counsel, which means he is a very formidable lawyer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His estate has an expansive vineyard, and every year Earl hires the finest winemaker in the country to handpick his grapes and craft his own vintage. Yet Earl has never tasted a glass of it. He keeps every bottle stored away in a dark, cavernous cellar.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Because Earl prefers to collect things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not to drink, not to enjoy, not to savor or admire. Simply to possess them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl owns paintings by Pablo Picasso and Johannes Vermeer and Leonardo da Vinci and Vincent van Gogh. None of them hang on his walls. They are sealed in plastic and locked in a climate-controlled storeroom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl has a library filled with the rarest books, from Dickens and Darwin to Austen and Tolstoy. He has never bothered to read a single word.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl has a piano that belonged to Beethoven, a bottle of Napoleon’s perfume, and a quill used by Shakespeare. He has sculptures, Fabergé eggs, medieval tools, moon rocks, and hundreds of other historical artifacts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl derives no joy from their beauty, and he feels no awe for their significance. His pleasure comes from owning things that other people can’t have, in hiding things that they desperately wish to see. It makes him feel very powerful and important.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl’s most treasured possession is in the center of his property. It is an enormous, deep dam filled with clear, fresh water.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s quite easy to make a dam. Even a beaver can do it, and they don’t have hands. If you have a flowing river and a big hole in the ground, all you really need to do is build a wall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before Earl Robert-Barren came to Upson Downs, the river gushed from high on a ridge and spread into smaller creeks that supplied the whole town with water. Each farmer took enough for their flock, and on and on the water flowed. They relied on the river, because with every passing year it rained less and less.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then Earl arrived. Like putting a plug in a bathtub, he blocked the river and collected all the water for himself. And down across the flat plains of Upson Downs, the creek beds dried up, the grass withered and began to die, and so too did the town.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The wool from Upson Downs declined in quality and no longer attracted the interest of Parisian designers or London tailors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e People stopped visiting. The train no longer had reason to come to town, so the station closed. Restaurants and shops struggled to make ends meet, then shut their doors for good. There were no more festivals. No more dances. No more sports.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Farmers were left with no choice but to sell their land and leave. And only one man was prepared to make a paltry offer for their dry paddocks:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl Robert-Barren.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Because Earl is as cunning as he is cruel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As soon as he assumed ownership of a property, Earl installed a long pipe that reached like a tentacle from his dam, pouring water back into the empty tanks and troughs, bringing life back to the parched soil, making it instantly more valuable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But Earl isn’t interested in selling for a profit. He is collecting the town of Upson Downs, piece by piece, acre by acre. He is collecting homes and hopes and histories and lives, and he will not stop until he has them all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e e faintest upward nod of her head, and Runt bursts forward, leaps into the truck, and sits happily on Annie’s lap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bryan smiles and shakes his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then he hurries to the truck, because time is running out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The Magic Finger\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Sheep have an unfortunate reputation for being quite stupid.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e People believe they’re dim-witted, aimless animals that are easily confused. But this is a bit unfair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For example, sheep have very long memories. They never forget a good patch of grass, and they certainly never forget where to find a decent drink of water.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Think of your favorite food, prepared by the world’s most talented chef, laid out on a banquet table that spreads out for miles. This is what Earl’s pasture looks like to Bryan Shearer’s sheep. It’s irresistible. Which is why, despite Bryan’s efforts to repair his rickety old fence, they persist in pushing their way through it, crossing the road, and squeezing onto Earl’s estate.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The grass really is much greener on the other side. Earl’s estate is paradise. They bleat and bounce about, trotting and kicking up their hooves. They stuff themselves with tufts of juicy grass, then wash it all down with a refreshing drink from Earl’s dam.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And today, while Annie was at school learning about cloud formation, a storm was brewing on the outskirts of Upson Downs, because the sheep had broken out again. And Earl, peering through a brass spyglass that once belonged to the pirate Blackbeard, had spotted them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He snatched up his telephone and poked the buttons urgently, like he was trying to wake a hibernating bear. And he yelled at Bryan Shearer for so long that he didn’t realize Bryan had already hung up and left to fetch Annie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Bryan’s truck hurtles up the long driveway and stops outside the manor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earl stands impatiently on the stone steps. Despite the heat, he wears a double-breasted navy jacket with silver buttons and a purple silk cravat. He holds a gold pocket watch previously used by Winston Churchill.","brand":"Yearling","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233759375589,"sku":"NP9780593703663","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593703663.jpg?v=1767741982","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-underdogs-of-upson-downs-isbn-9780593703663","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}