{"product_id":"eleanor-roosevelts-in-my-garage-isbn-9781524767877","title":"Eleanor Roosevelt's in My Garage!","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn this hilarious follow-up to BEN FRANKLIN'S IN MY BATHROOM!, history and hijinks collide once more when Eleanor Roosevelt accidentally time travels to a ten-year-old's home in 21st-century America!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Eleanor Roosevelt time travels to Nolan and Olive's house in modern-day Illinois, the kids don't know who she is at first. After all, she's old and wearing a hairnet. But the First Lady of the United States--some 80 years ago, that is-- isn't a mystery for long when she starts spouting things like \"You must do the things you think you cannot do.\" Fresh off a visit from Ben Franklin, Nolan and Olive know what they're in for with this latest guest: an adventure. From drawing on ideals of civil protest to save the town park, to (almost) doing a loop-de-loop in a single-engine plane, to avoiding that know-it-all snoop Tommy Tuttle, there's one laugh after the next in this second book in the History Pals series. Fun back matter expands the story and unpacks the amazing life of Eleanor Roosevelt.CANDACE FLEMING is the prolific author of \u003ci\u003eThe Family Romanov,\u003c\/i\u003e a Sibert Honor Book and the recipient of both the \u003ci\u003eBoston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e-\u003ci\u003eHorn Book\u003c\/i\u003e Award and the \u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e Book Award for Young Adult Literature; \u003ci\u003eAmelia Lost,\u003c\/i\u003e which received four starred reviews; \u003ci\u003eThe Great and Only Barnum,\u003c\/i\u003e an ALA-YALSA Award for Excellence in Nonfiction nominee and a \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003eBest Book of the Year; \u003ci\u003eThe Lincolns: A Scrapbook Look at Abraham and Mary,\u003c\/i\u003e a \u003ci\u003eBoston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e-\u003ci\u003eHorn Book\u003c\/i\u003e Award recipient; \u003ci\u003eOur Eleanor,\u003c\/i\u003e an ALA-ALSC Best Book for Young Adults; and \u003ci\u003eBen Franklin's Almanac,\u003c\/i\u003e a James Madison Honor Book. She is also the author of many highly acclaimed picture books, including \u003ci\u003eOh, No!,\u003c\/i\u003e illustrated by Eric Rohmann, and middle grade books, including \u003ci\u003eThe Fabled Fourth Graders of Aesop Elementary School \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e Ben Franklin's in My Bathroom!\u003c\/i\u003e Visit her on the web at candacefleming.com or on Twitter at @candacemfleming.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMARK FEARING has created award-winning editorial cartoons and animated shorts that have appeared on Nickelodeon and G4 and was a production manager for Walt Disney Television Animation. He is also the illustrator of \u003ci\u003eBen Franklin's in My Bathroom!\u003c\/i\u003e and Margaret McNamara's \u003ci\u003eThree Little Aliens and the Big Bad Robot,\u003c\/i\u003e published by S\u0026amp;W in 2011. Visit him on the web at markfearing.com or on Twitter at @MarkFearing.\u003cp\u003eI groaned at the picture. Why, oh why, had Mom sent my little sister to technology day camp? Seriously. Second graders should not be allowed to text. It’s just annoying. I tapped out a reply to tell her to stop.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBelieve it or not, she did.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy phone went quiet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eToo bad it was the only thing that got quiet. “FD?” shouted the woman in my closet. She pounded on the door. “This is outrageous. I insist you let me out this instant!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJust so you know, I am not FD. And I was pretty sure I’d never met FD. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d never met the woman in my closet, either, except in the pages of some boring social studies book, or in a musty history museum, or maybe during one of my teacher Mr. Druff’s long, snore-fest lectures about “the incredible story that is America’s past.” He actually said that. He made us write it down in our social studies notebooks too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“FD, are you still pouting about your speech to Congress?” the woman called out. “Truly, darling, no one noticed your zipper was down.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI knew I had to open the door. I also knew that the second I did, things were going to get way out of control. I am not exaggerating. I’d experienced this blast from the past once before, and I needed just a few more minutes to brace myself. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d been expecting any . . . um . . . visitors today.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAn hour earlier, my day had been pretty normal. I’d been lying on the family-room sofa reading another graphic novel--this one about an alien kid who crashed on Earth--while my irritating little sister, Olive, danced around the house in her brand-new mermaid Princess Aquamarina bathing suit. She was singing at the top of her lungs too. “Party, party, par-TAY! party, party, par-TAY!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt first, I’d tried to ignore her by burying my nose deeper in my book. I do both these things a lot--ignore my sister and read graphic novels.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI love graphic novels.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI do not love Olive when she’s being annoying.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd boy, was she annoying. I knew she was really excited about the swimming party Mom was throwing for her eighth birthday that day. But geez, did she have to be such a pest?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Knock it off,” I’d growled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOlive scrunched her face at me. “Party party poop-ER! Party party poop-ER!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI slammed my book shut and stomped up to my room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOf course, she followed. “Come on, Nolan. We’re going to be late to my party.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m ready, already,” I grumbled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJust as I was putting on my shoes . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePOP! A bright light shot out from under my closet door. It grew white . . . whiter . . . crystal white. From deep within came the sounds of static and faint voices. A second later, my bedroom filled with the sound of a gazillion bubbles popping all at once. Then . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBam! Bam! Bam!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSomeone started banging on the inside of my closet door.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s Ben!” Olive had cried. “He’s come back for my birthday!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe flung open the door.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eScreamed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd slammed it shut again.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“That,” she panted, “is definitely not Ben Franklin.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hullooo!” came a woman’s quavering voice. “FD? Is that you? Let me out, won’t you? I seem to have gotten trapped.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt that moment, Mom hollered from downstairs. “Nolan! Olive! Is somebody up there with you?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI swear our mother has the sharpest hearing in the universe. Maybe that’s why she’s the author-illustrator of the Bumble Bunny series of children’s books. Big ears come naturally to her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom didn’t wait for us to reply. “It’s getting late!” she shouted. “Time to go to the party!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOlive yelped and looked from the bedroom door to the closet door. “Now what?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You go,” I said urgently. “I’ll stay with . . . with . . . whoever.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But I’m dying to know who’s in there,” she whined. “I didn’t recognize her.” She reached for the knob. “Let’s take another peek.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI leaped in front of her and pressed my back against the closet door. “And turn her loose in the house with Mom here? Are you crazy?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But--”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You promised,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “You promised to keep all this--the crystal radio, Ben Franklin time traveling here from history--a secret until we figured it out, remember?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe made a pouty face.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know you’re there, FD. I can hear you breathing,” the woman in the closet called.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Remember, Olive?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe nodded slowly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Then go!” I said. “Try to act normal. And whatever you do, don’t say a word about, er, this.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Olive!” Mom called from the staircase.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Coming, Mother dearest!” she shouted back in this ridiculous British accent she’d learned from watching PBS. She crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway. “Pish posh, but it’s a lovely day for a party.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBelieve it or not, that was normal for Olive.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Nolan, are you coming?” Mom called up.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI came out of my bedroom and stood on the upstairs landing, peering down at her. “I . . . I can’t.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But it’s your sister’s birthday.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s mermaid swimming, Mom. With a bunch of giggling eight-year-old girls.” I slapped on my most pathetic puppy-dog expression. “Please, can’t you give a guy a break?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Do let him stay, Mummy,” chimed in still-British Olive. “The big oaf will do nothing but ruin the party.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom looked at me with laser eyes for a second. Then she nodded. “But stay in the house. And no friends.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No friends,” I promised. I figured it wasn’t a lie. How could the person in my closet be a friend if I’d never met her?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom looked at me another moment. Then they were gone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd I was alone with the lady in the closet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe knocked again. “Enough, FD. You’ve had your silly joke. Now open this door at once. Franklin? Did you hear me? I’m beginning to grow faint.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo am I, I thought.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy belly felt tight and fluttery, like it was filling with bats. Beating their wings. Crowding my chest. Squeezing the air from my lungs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHand shaking, I reached for the doorknob . . .\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Schwartz \u0026 Wade","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304434979045,"sku":"NP9781524767877","price":16.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781524767877.jpg?v=1767726135","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/eleanor-roosevelts-in-my-garage-isbn-9781524767877","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}