{"product_id":"never-trust-a-gemini-isbn-9781536236156","title":"Never Trust a Gemini","description":"\u003cb\u003eCat Phillips has her head in the stars, but her romantic fantasies may ruin her shot at real-life love in this sweet and funny lesbian story\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s Libra Season, and Cat Phillips is ready to run headfirst into love. The only problem is that her crush is on her best friend, Alison Bridgewater, who is more interested in chatting with boys. Maybe Cat should take this as a sign to get over Alison, even if that means dating the musically challenged Jamie Owusu. After all, a new boyfriend is the best cleanse, at least according to Cat’s friends. Unfortunately, having a boyfriend is a lot harder than Cat expected. And then Morgan Delaney swoops in with her green glasses, enigmatic smile, and talent for teasing Cat in ways that make her feel \u003ci\u003eüberlicious.\u003c\/i\u003e But Morgan is a Gemini, and there’s no way \u003ci\u003ethat’s \u003c\/i\u003ein Cat’s horoscope. Will Cat finally get the girl of her dreams? Or is there a chance there’s more to life than Alison Bridgewater?Readers should enter this book ready for some classic rom-com shenanigans. Nevertheless, Woolf presents her characters sincerely, so the story earns its emotional ups and downs. . . Oodles of entertainment.\u003cbr\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCat’s reliance on astrology to help foster relationships endearingly reflects contemporary teens’ obsession with cosmic forces, and her realization that not everyone is defined by what’s in their horoscopes and birth charts is endearing. Debut author Woolf sensitively balances Cat’s painful setbacks with her joyful triumphs, and the teen’s consistently on-target observations and gently sarcastic tone make for many laugh-out-loud moments in this astrology-filled rom-com.\u003cbr\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003cb\u003eFreja Nicole Woolf\u003c\/b\u003e is a recent graduate from London College of Fashion who has been writing novels and poetry since elementary school. She wrote \u003ci\u003eNever Trust a Gemini\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003eher debut novel, so that young LGBTQ+ people can see themselves in books that aren’t centered on issue-led trauma. Freja Nicole Woolf lives in the UK.LIBRA SEASON\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e Conversations with \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e Taylor Swift\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I cannot stop dreaming about Alison Bridgewater. This could be because it’s Libra Season . . . Love and relationships are on everybody’s minds during Libra Season, according to my \u003ci\u003eBible to the Stars\u003c\/i\u003e—or my \u003ci\u003eBook for Blithering Idiots\u003c\/i\u003e, as Dad calls it. But it could also indicate that I’m reaching dangerous and dizzying new heights of my Alison Bridgewater Obsession, which is not good news, as I’m dizzied almost to death already!\u003cbr\u003e   They’re very innocent dreams: Alison and me walking hand in hand across Tower Bridge in London . . . Alison and me playing tag on a white-sand beach . . . Alison and me lying side by side on a queen-size bed and then, just possibly, shuffling close enough that our lips can touch, and we brush fingertips, and I say under my breath, “I love you,” and in my dreams, Alison’s perfect face will glow, her smile like pure sunlight and rainbows . . .\u003cbr\u003e   She opens her mouth to say, “Love you, too . . . !”\u003cbr\u003e   But I always seem to wake up before that happens.\u003cbr\u003e   It’s Tuesday morning in Lambley Common, Kent, and I have school soon, where I’ll have to see Alison face-to-face and not be awkward: not easy when you’re a born clown like myself! I stay in bed for ages feeling troubled. Specifically, about the fact I just dreamed about kissing Alison again! Then I hear Mum’s singsong morning call.\u003cbr\u003e   “Cat, come down for breakfast! I’ve made porridge!”\u003cbr\u003e   In that case, I might as well stay in bed forever! Mum is far from competent in the kitchen. Her porridge is like cat food! But when I’ve raised this with her, she just says, “It’s a good thing we named you Cat, then!” Then she laughs a lot with Dad.\u003cbr\u003e   But woe alas, I do have to get ready (a time-trousering process indeed if your gang has the überest of standards like mine does), so I stumble to my mirror and examine my blond curls. They’re basically a bird’s nest, so I quickly comb my fingers through them, then add mascara. To my eyelashes obviously, not my hair, though a bit does get caught in the wand.\u003cbr\u003e   Then I sigh a tragic sigh—because I do this every day . . .\u003cbr\u003e   My morning routine is simple: Get up, get dressed, pray to Almighty Aphrodite (she is the Goddess of Love, and nothing is more important than that), then make myself as beautiful as possible for my friend and romantic obsession, Alison Bridgewater.\u003cbr\u003e   But today, before I’ve even applied my lucky lavender deodorant, my phone buzzes and my eyes almost explode. Which would be really messy and traumatic, to be honest. But I have a text from Alison herself!\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Alison, 8:09 a.m.:\u003cbr\u003e Hey bb! Can we talk after school, just us? xox\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e   “Gooseberries!” I exclaim (my favorite curse word). Alison Bridgewater wants to talk to me ALONE? After school? ON A TUESDAY? About what?! Then my bedroom door flies open, and I Frisbee-fling my phone and shriek, “I’M NOT ON MY PHONE, MUM, HONESTLY, I’M JUST COMING DOWN!”\u003cbr\u003e   My phone smashes through my nail polishes on the dresser and right into the pinky-purple lava lamp, which teeters dangerously. I have to jump to catch it and end up face-planting in the pile of dirty underwear on the floor: a true moment of knickerbocker glory.\u003cbr\u003e   Then I look around and see it’s not Mum but my tree-­hugging terror of a sister, Luna, who is interrupting my celestial flows. She really is the WORST person—this text from Alison could be the most important conversation of my life! And that includes my conversation with Taylor Swift (Luna says it’s “not a conversation” when she’s never once replied, but I disagree).\u003cbr\u003e   Oblivious to my woes, Luna waves her phone around and says, “Cat, have you seen your horoscope? Apparently, Aquarius Lives are being blessed today. Maybe that fungal infection on your leg will clear up!”\u003cbr\u003e   “It’s just a bruise, Luna!” I snap, swiping her phone. “I’ve told you already!”\u003cbr\u003e   Usually, I’d be deeply unamused that Luna is rabbiting on about astrology now. I’m the one with the \u003ci\u003eBible to the Stars\u003c\/i\u003e, and she’s already claimed pacifism, anti-consumerism, intersectional feminism, and radical veganism! Can’t she leave anything for me?\u003cbr\u003e   But reading her phone, I realize I may have to Elsa-style Let It Go. Because my sister, who is so bizarre that she grows mushrooms in a shoebox for fun, might actually be right. According to my horoscope, my life is about to change forever, which sounds pretty outrageous for a Tuesday morning.\u003cbr\u003e   Deep in my knickers pile, my phone buzzes again. I dig it back up and gasp.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Alison, 8:10 a.m.:\u003cbr\u003e I really need u!!! xxx\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e   Head spinning with a thousand Taylor Swift lyrics, I feel the stars align . . . Well, that might be my stomach rumbling. But could today really be the day Alison Bridgewater falls in love with me?! It’s a lot to take in. Especially given that, as I might have mentioned already, it’s a Tuesday.\u003cbr\u003e   I’m in an Alison-induced coma all through Mum’s horrendous breakfast and all the way to school as well, which is a wonderful distraction from Luna raving on about Mum’s “anti-animal” shopping agenda. Last night’s dreams are all over my skin like pollen . . . You can’t see it, but you can feel it clinging to you.\u003cbr\u003e   Gosh, that was a very poetic thought! Maybe I should be writing Alison one of my amazing poems . . . She’s bound to fall in love with me then! I try to think poetically, but Luna won’t shut up! It’s no wonder I never get anything done.\u003cbr\u003e   “. . . just because it said ‘farm fresh’ on the label—farm fresh?! Everybody knows that’s code for factory farm!” Luna gasps in annoyance. It isn’t unusual for my sister to be angry at our parents—or “symbols of a capitalist dystopia,” as she calls them. I’m only fourteen, but she makes ME feel like a boomer. I guess I’m nearly fifteen, so I’m not far off. “Mum seemed to think the picture on the front justified it as well,” Luna rants. “As if that chicken ever really saw a field! Then she’s bought those sausages for dinner—again!”\u003cbr\u003e   My sister (a Scorpio, Aphrodite save me) is very passionate. Last Christmas, aged twelve, she announced she wanted to change her name from Lauren Anna Phillips to “Luna Anaïs Celeste Phillips.” She’d printed the official forms and everything! Apparently, she wanted this or nothing as her Christmas gift.\u003cbr\u003e   “At least she’s keeping the surname,” Dad grunted, not even lowering his paper.\u003cbr\u003e   Mum told her to “try it out” before making it legal. Then when Luna left the room, she turned to my utterly shocked face and said, “Don’t worry, love. It’s normal to play with identity at this age. Just let her work through it, and she’ll be Lauren again before you know it.”\u003cbr\u003e   Nine months on, Luna is more Luna than ever! No one calls her Lauren anymore, so I suppose I’ll have to start taking her seriously . . . But seeing as she’s currently wearing an embarrassingly enormous pin saying vegan from my head tomatoes on her blazer, perhaps I won’t call her Lauren or Luna. I’ll just call her ridiculous instead.\u003cbr\u003e   But you know who isn’t ridiculous?\u003cbr\u003e   Alison Bridgewater. She really is so perfect. She’s half-Ghanaian and her hair is gorgeously dark and curly, and her golden-brown skin glows even in the depths of winter . . . Gosh. I actually slightly hate how poetic and stunning she is.\u003cbr\u003e   “Perfect . . .” I sigh out loud, then my eyes widen. Oops.\u003cbr\u003e   Luna stops talking about the crimes of the farming industry. “Excuse me? Did you just say ‘perfect’ when I was talking about animal genocide?!”\u003cbr\u003e   “No?!” I pause walking. “I’m tired. I was thinking about something else!”\u003cbr\u003e   Luna rolls her eyes. “You know, if you listened to me, you might learn something! Why are you tired? Were you writing \u003ci\u003eFrozen \u003c\/i\u003efan fiction until four in the morning again?”\u003cbr\u003e   “Yes,” I say. “I mean, NO! I’ve never done that!”\u003cbr\u003e   Gooseberries . . . how does Luna know about that?\u003cbr\u003e   “Whatever.” Luna adopts her peak zen face. “Libra Season is sending everyone into a frenzy. Just because they’re scared of being alone another year. Maisy McGregor literally fainted over it yesterday . . .”\u003cbr\u003e   That catches my attention. I pause trying to mentally compose a sonnet.\u003cbr\u003e   “Wait, for another YEAR? Luna, what do you mean?”\u003cbr\u003e   Luna gives me a smug smile. Which is also a very annoying smile, but that’s just her face. “Haven’t you been reading your \u003ci\u003eBible to the Stars\u003c\/i\u003e? Some people believe if two don’t become one in Libra Season, you’ll have to wait until next year to find someone. And that’s a long, long time. Eight million metric tons more plastic will have gone into the ocean by then, which is a lot of tons, Cat . . .”\u003cbr\u003e   She rambles on. But I am ozone-layering out all over again.\u003cbr\u003e   A whole year?! I’ll basically be almost sixteen and I won’t even have had my first kiss! Suddenly, my conversation with Alison Bridgewater is even more important. Really, I deserve some sort of award just for holding it together! I’m like Florence Nightingale, if she was a blond fourteen-year-old with a crush on her best friend. Which she isn’t, so I suppose I’m not actually like Florence Nightingale at all, but I’m still very virtuous and saintly. Today could be bigger than Disney’s silence on Elsa’s true romantic persuasion!\u003cbr\u003e   Because no way, Swift-Tay, am I going to wait another year to find true love.","brand":"Walker Books US","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302683922661,"sku":"NP9781536236156","price":14.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781536236156.jpg?v=1767733646","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/never-trust-a-gemini-isbn-9781536236156","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}