{"product_id":"rosie-frost-and-the-falcon-queen-isbn-9780593623343","title":"Rosie Frost and the Falcon Queen","description":"\u003cb\u003eA sweeping adventure filled with a hidden island, family secrets, shocking betrayals, amazing music, and girl power, by iconic Spice Girl, songwriter and author Geri Halliwell-Horner.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIt's time to find your power.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly orphaned and alone, Rosie Frost is sent to the mysterious Bloodstone Island—home not only to a school for extraordinary teens, but also a sanctuary for endangered species. There, Rosie confronts a menacing deputy headmaster, a group of mean kids intent on destroying her, and shocking family secrets. She also discovers that history can come to life in ways she never could have imagined. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the island itself comes under threat, Rosie knows she must enter and win the Falcon Queen games in a desperate bid to save it. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Rosie can't do it alone. She finds that believing in herself—and her friends—is the first step to finding the power she never knew she had.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e*All books contain a QR code with access to original songs by Geri Halliwell-Horner!\u003c\/b\u003e\"This book mixes elements of fantasy with history, mystery, and adventure, but it is, at its core, a coming-of-age story. Rosie blossoms when she starts to let her walls down, and the supporting characters who eventually become her friends round out the story. The school and the island are fantastic settings: readers will be bursting to visit Bloodstone Island, with its rare creatures and old secrets. If an English boarding school on an island full of wild, rare animals isn’t enough to grab readers, Rosie Frost, an empowering new heroine, certainly will.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"This contemporary, girl-power story has light paranormal and fantastical elements and is fueled by a captivating mystery and adventure. It also features quick pacing, fun and engaging worldbuilding, and a lead character who is easy to root for. Exuberant, action-packed, and warmhearted.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"[A]n effervescent fantasy series . . . smart twists rooted in real-life history add excitement, and Anne Boleyn’s indomitable spirit literally and figuratively haunts this lively debut, inspiring Rosie and propelling the tale’s feminist, eco-preservationist message.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eGeri Halliwell-Horner\u003c\/b\u003e is an accomplished singer, writer, producer, and actress who is widely recognized for her iconic place in British pop culture as an original member of the record-breaking girl group the Spice Girls. As Ginger Spice, Geri played a formative role in the band as they became one of the biggest-selling girl groups of all time. She is the successful author of the Ugenia Lavender book series in the UK and continues to work with the Royal Commonwealth to promote prospects through literacy to Commonwealth citizens. She was awarded an honorary doctorate of letters at Sheffield Hallam University and is an outspoken supporter of animals and an ambassador of the London Zoo. You can visit Geri Halliwell-Horner online at RosieFrostBooks.com or follow her on Instagram @GeriHalliwellHorner and on X @GeriHalliwell and on Facebook at Facebook.com\/GeriHalliwell.\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eChapter One\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003ePresent day. Wednesday, November 30th. Late morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Why did being left out hurt so much? Rosie Frost had always felt like she didn’t belong. All her thirteen years it had been that way, and she didn’t know why.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe was sitting alone on the edge of the flimsy school table, her rucksack neatly tucked under her worn-­out old boots. Most of the other students were huddled together at the other end of the same long table. All of them packed together in the sterile classroom, under a low polystyrene-­squared ceiling and fluorescent lighting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie chewed on the end of her plastic pen, accidentally grinding it on her braces, which made a cracking sound louder than it should have.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oi, weirdo,” Simon called out. “What do gingers and extinct dinosaurs have in common?” The boy paused, then continued, “Not enough!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe others around him laughed, and Rosie self-­consciously tucked her unruly ginger hair back down into the neck of her oversized hoodie. The giggling continued, longer than it normally would. She looked up. What was going on? And then she spotted the writing on the whiteboard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eJane Eyre—­shut up u turd, same to u Rosie Frost—­no one likes a know-­it-­all\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie flinched. She never meant to be a know-­it-­all; she just found books interesting, and she couldn’t help it if she knew the answer when the teacher called on her. She certainly didn’t think she was clever in some extraordinary way, and she didn’t mean to make anyone else look bad, but somehow it always ended up that way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So who was it? Who was it?” stammered the teacher, Miss Metcalf, her clunky earrings jangling. “Which one of you wrote this?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Well, they have a point,” someone called out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe spidery writing on the whiteboard seemed to scowl over the classroom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And where is my book? It was right here. Who took it?” Miss Metcalf demanded, folding her arms.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe late November rain lashed at the thin windows of the cold classroom, as though it was trying to point out the true culprit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I said, who wrote this filth, and who has my book?! That cost money, and this school has just had budget cuts.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStill more giggles sounded from the other end of the table. Miss Metcalf sighed, scanning the room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It was Frost, that wannabe Hermione. It’s ’er,” called out a boy with a gruff voice, his red cap pulled down over his eyes as he nodded toward Rosie. “The weirdo wants the attention,” he taunted, straining to stretch his leg out and kick Rosie’s chair. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIf only I could stand up to these bullies\u003c\/i\u003e, thought Rosie. She flinched, tempted to kick him back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNo, don’t do it\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eSay nothing, do nothing—­silence is your shield. Keep calm; it’s your armor. Then you don’t have to apologize for the words you haven’t said, things you haven’t done\u003c\/i\u003e, her mum always advised her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie really did feel like the odd one out here. Apart from one other person in her class, she was probably the only one who had bothered to do the homework. But she didn’t have the teacher’s book. She slowly placed her hand in her hoodie pocket, reaching for her phone, then looked down and sent a pineapple emoji.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis was her and her mum’s “Batman” code. \u003ci\u003eA secret signal\u003c\/i\u003e, her mum had called it. \u003ci\u003eJust send me one whenever you need to, so no matter what happens, you’ll know someone’s got your back\u003c\/i\u003e, she’d said. Long ago, apparently a pineapple was a symbol of friendship. (It was also both of their favorite pizza topping.)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThose bullies will make you stronger. People are just threatened by anyone different or smarter\u003c\/i\u003e, her mum always reminded her, after every rubbish day at school. One time, Rosie had accidentally leaned on her phone and sent a succession of pineapples. Her mum had immediately turned up at the school with a worried look on her face, informing the teacher that Rosie had “an important dental appointment” that she’d forgotten about before. But Rosie was okay; it had just been a false alarm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eOne day, when the time is right, you’ll go to an amazing school, for exceptional students. That’s where you belong. Once you’re there, none of this will matter. I promise\u003c\/i\u003e, her mum had said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiss Metcalf looked at Rosie and raised her eyebrows, and right now, Rosie certainly didn’t feel exceptional. Rosie swallowed as she looked up at the words on the board, her mouth dry, then glanced at the other students. Who had taken the teacher’s book? It could have been Jayden, who hadn’t been able to answer Miss Metcalf’s questions yesterday about the chapters they were meant to have read. Or maybe Becky, who got called out for being on her phone during yesterday’s lesson. Rosie scanned the room to see if she could spot the book, but it didn’t seem to be anywhere.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStill silence, then a few murmurs and more sniggers came from the back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If no one owns up, then I shall have no choice but to hold the whole class back after school for detention.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEveryone groaned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And—­and—­I will ring your parents.” The room went quiet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiss Metcalf paced the room like a hawk eyeing its prey. “I want it back, now.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“She’s the book thief,” Jayden called out, pointing at Rosie. “Just admit you did it. We know you’ve got it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah,” said Jayden’s best friend, Wayne, smug in his brand-­new trainers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie sent another pineapple emoji. No reply yet, though. Her mum was probably busy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah, little girl, loser, trying to be all clever with her big words.” Connor, the third boy in their trio, kicked Rosie’s rucksack, and the contents spilled over the floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiss Metcalf walked over toward Rosie. “Well?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie’s face went red. Wayne nodded down toward Rosie’s rucksack, directing Miss Metcalf to take a look. And there it was, on the floor. Miss Metcalf reached down and picked up her missing copy of \u003ci\u003eJane Eyre\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat?! No, it wasn’t me! \u003c\/i\u003eSomeone must have planted it—­it was a setup. Rosie’s eyes began to fill up, hot with tears.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe blinked. No crying, not here, not in front of this lot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Detention for ya,” sniggered Jayden.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eDon’t let them get to you\u003c\/i\u003e, she heard her mum’s voice in her head again. She swallowed hard. \u003ci\u003eNever let them see your tears\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut she couldn’t take the blame for this. She had to be back home on time today, for her mum. Mum had been too quiet this morning, so Rosie knew that she needed her, and was expecting her, and Rosie had promised she’d pick up milk, and . . . and . . . \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly there was a knock on the window of the door. The school secretary entered, then whispered something to Miss Metcalf, whose face turned gray. She then looked down at Rosie, frowning as she listened to the secretary. Once they’d finished, Miss Metcalf cleared her throat and said, “Rosie Frost, would you please go to the head’s office immediately.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat the . . . ?!!! But it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me! \u003c\/i\u003eRosie’s stomach tightened. She reached for her phone in her pocket; quickly looking down stealth-­like, she sent her mum another pineapple emoji.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen she stood up, her chair scraping back on the linoleum flooring. All eyes were on her as she followed the secretary out of the room. This clearly wasn’t her week.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie entered the stark, sparsely furnished headmaster’s office with its gray tin filing cabinets, drawers half-­open with papers spilling out. The headmaster nodded to her as she entered, his face giving away nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eTick, tick, tick\u003c\/i\u003e, the clock on the wall tutted, cutting through the silence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Have a seat,” he said eventually.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie sat on the hard plastic chair in front of his desk. The muscles in her legs tightened; whether it was the comfort of a rhythm or just nerves, her foot began to tap. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe headmaster was pale and balding, with translucent-­looking skin almost blending into his office’s gray walls. He cleared his throat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Life doesn’t always go how we hope.” He coughed. “Sometimes it’s just best to say it how it is.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe clock ticked, as though in agreement. Rosie bit her lip. What was he going on about?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I didn’t do anything,” she blurted out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA woman police officer and a man in a gray suit entered the office.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie’s heart started to beat double-­quick. Oh no, was she being arrested? Expelled? Because of Miss Metcalf’s book?!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe police officer took off her hat. Her face said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man beside her was holding a paper file and a small red leather briefcase. Rosie hadn’t seen him before; he wasn’t from the school. The police officer nodded at the headmaster, who nodded back, as if acknowledging that they should proceed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“First, I must tell you my name is Chief Inspector Clarke,” the police officer began, her voice calm, staring directly at Rosie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And my name is Colin Fletcher. I am a lawyer,” said the man in the gray suit, smoothing down his floppy hair. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There’s no easy way round this . . . I have some bad news for you,” Chief Inspector Clarke said, clearing her throat. “I have been instructed to tell you . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo! Oh no, this isn’t fair. The punishment did not fit the crime. Besides, she wasn’t even guilty! Her mum would be so disappointed; she couldn’t handle it right now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m sorry to tell you . . .” Chief Inspector Clarke said. “Your mother . . .” She stopped again mid-­sentence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWill be so disappointed, I know. Please don’t tell her.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It wasn’t me!” snapped Rosie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“She passed away this morning,” said the officer, placing a hand on Rosie’s shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie frowned. What was she saying?\u003ci\u003e What?\u003c\/i\u003e She laughed nervously. “What?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Your mother is dead,” interrupted the lawyer. His eyes studied her, grave and stern.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie felt a tremble start to build in her legs. “Stop this, what, no, I’m in trouble, that’s why I’m here. Because I’m in trouble, okay? I took the book!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie pulled out her phone and sent more pineapple emojis to her mum. His words hammered into her skull. But she wouldn’t listen to this. What kind of sicko would say such a thing?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We have been given strict instructions how to proceed, from her letter of final wishes. You are to leave immediately for Bloodstone Island, and will be taken home now so you can pack up all the things you need. Everything has been taken care of.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No way. I can’t just leave.” Rosie shook her head. \u003ci\u003eBloodstone Island? What?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is a lot for you to take in, but it’s for the best. It’s what your mum had instructed,” said the policewoman, her eyes softening.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I don’t believe any of this. Where is she?” Rosie demanded. She felt sick, like she was delirious with fever, not understanding the words spoken to her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There will be a coroner’s inquest, and then we will have more answers.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We have a cat, no, I need to take care of Muffin,” Rosie stammered. Her head was pounding. \u003ci\u003eOh no, not now\u003c\/i\u003e. She felt a tingling in her nose, and the room swayed. Oh no, was it coming? \u003ci\u003eNo, not now, this was not the time\u003c\/i\u003e. She touched her nose with the back of her hand, then glanced down, checking for the warning sign, the first tiny red drop. Nothing, thank God. She sighed with relief. She’d had nosebleeds all her life—­every time she got stressed it would look like a horror movie. But her mum always said, \u003ci\u003eJust breathe through it, you’ll be fine\u003c\/i\u003e. Thank goodness it hadn’t happened. \u003ci\u003eWhat was he saying about my mum? Where is my mum? \u003c\/i\u003eThe words seemed to have left her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe breathed in deeply and kept tapping her foot and somehow managed to gain control of herself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m sorry, Rosie, this must be very upsetting for you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe adults just looked at her, pity in their eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie swallowed hard. \u003ci\u003eNo, no, no . . . \u003c\/i\u003eThis couldn’t be true. Who was this man, anyway? An army of emoji pineapples would be texted back from her mum any minute now. She was just busy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And just to be very clear, you are not to open this yet,” the lawyer said as he presented a small red leather case. “It holds something very special that your mother felt was important for you to have. Something which, in her words, will reveal to you who you really are.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWho I am? I know who I am, and I want my mum!\u003c\/i\u003e She pressed down hard on her phone and sent another line of pineapple emojis. Still, there was no reply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But, I repeat, it’s imperative you don’t open this case until you arrive at Bloodstone Island, and only open it with Miss Churchill,” he said, holding it out to her. “Bloodstone is a beautiful, unique place, with a school educating exceptional young students.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat was he talking about?? \u003c\/i\u003eShe took the little red case from him, her hands shaking. A numbness began to creep through her whole body, and her cheeks went clammy. Suddenly a trickle of red fluid oozed from her nose.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I think you also need this,” he said, passing her a tissue, pointing at his own nose.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRosie Frost dabbed her nose with the tissue and stared down at the little spot of crimson, glaring. The warning—it was coming. No, this couldn’t be happening. The room began to spin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe didn’t want this, not now, but most of all she didn’t want to go to some island she’d never heard of. She just wanted her mum.","brand":"Philomel Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303077564645,"sku":"NP9780593623343","price":18.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593623343.jpg?v=1767735934","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/rosie-frost-and-the-falcon-queen-isbn-9780593623343","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}