{"product_id":"starfish-isbn-9781984814524","title":"Starfish","description":"\u003cb\u003eA PRINTZ HONOR BOOK • Ellie is tired of being fat-shamed and does something about it in this poignant novel-in-verse. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In her debut novel, \u003ci\u003eStarfish,\u003c\/i\u003e Lisa Fipps confronts diet culture and fat phobia head-on. . . .  The book reads as if Ellie herself is writing these poems, which are accessible and engaging.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEver since Ellie wore a whale swimsuit and made a big splash at her fifth birthday party, she's been bullied about her weight. To cope, she tries to live by the Fat Girl Rules—like \"no making waves,\" \"avoid eating in public,\" and \"don't move so fast that your body jiggles.\" And she's found her safe space—her swimming pool—where she feels weightless in a fat-obsessed world. In the water, she can stretch herself out like a starfish and take up all the room she wants. It's also where she can get away from her pushy mom, who thinks criticizing Ellie's weight will motivate her to diet. Fortunately, Ellie has allies in her dad, her therapist, and her new neighbor, Catalina, who loves Ellie for who she is. With this support buoying her, Ellie might finally be able to cast aside the Fat Girl Rules and starfish in real life--by unapologetically being her own fabulous self.“In her debut novel, \u003ci\u003eStarfish,\u003c\/i\u003e Lisa Fipps confronts diet culture and fat phobia head-on. . . .  The book reads as if Ellie herself is writing these poems, which are accessible and engaging.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Fipps bursts onto the middle-grade scene with her debut, a verse novel that shines because of Ellie’s keen and emotionally striking observations. As she draws readers in with her smart and succinct voice, Ellie navigates the difficult map of knowing she deserves better treatment while struggling with the conflict that's necessary to achieve it. Fipps hands her young narrator several difficult life lessons, including how to self-advocate, how not to internalization of the words of others, and what it means to defend yourself. Ellie's story will delight readers who long to see an impassioned young woman seize an unapologetic victory.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Fipps’ verse is skillful and rooted in emotional reality. The text places readers in Ellie’s shoes, showing how she is attacked in many spaces—including by strangers on public transit—while clearly asserting that it’s other people who need to change. . . . Make room in your heart for this cathartic novel”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Affirming representation of fatness. . . . Fipps’s use of verse is as effective as it is fitting; Ellie dreams of becoming a storyteller and poet ‘to help people feel what it’s like\/ to live in\/ someone else’s skin.’ A triumphant and poignantly drawn journey toward self-acceptance and self-advocacy.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “A charming novel in verse about a girl struggling with self-worth. . . . Once readers start, it will be difficult for them to put this book down. Ellie’s story is heartbreaking and raw at times, and Fipps paints a realistic picture of bullying in a world that equates thinness with beauty. . . . True joy comes in watching Ellie gain confidence in herself and standing up to the bullies, even when they’re family. . . . A must-have for libraries serving teens and tweens.”—School Library Journal, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In this free-verse novel, Fipps is laceratingly authentic about the kind of ‘teasing’ and ‘help’ that Ellie is constantly subject to, and the family dynamic, wherein her father dislikes her mother’s treatment but rarely intervenes, is sadly believable. . . The intense focus mirrors a lot of experience, and readers will be glad to see Ellie eventually ‘starfishing—starting to claim my right to take up space.’”—\u003ci\u003eThe Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This beautiful, heartbreaking, and powerful novel-in-verse would pair well with media literacy lessons on body imagery, bullying, and victim shaming. The story is very engaging and readers will not want to put it down. School guidance counselors, school psychologists, and social workers will appreciate the realistic portrayal of Ellie’s therapist and the benefits of therapy for children and adults.”—\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Connection\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ellie’s simple and powerful free-verse poems intensify her emotional turmoil and smoothly destroy stereotypes (‘They think I’m unhappy \/ because I’m fat. \/ The truth is, \/ I’m unhappy because \/ they bully me \/ about being fat’). Her strength in accepting herself and learning to defy her Fat Girl Rules is an inspiring reminder to \u003ci\u003eall\u003c\/i\u003e readers that they deserve to ‘take up space.’”—\u003ci\u003eHorn Book\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Readers will rejoice as Ellie gains the strength to confront bullies with intelligence and honesty, and refuses to allow other people’s cruelty to shape her life.”—\u003cb\u003ePadma Venkatraman, award-winning author of \u003ci\u003eThe Bridge Home\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is a big beautiful book about a big beautiful girl. Meet Ellie, who looks in the mirror and sees someone lovable. Now, if only the rest of the world (and especially her own mother and brother) could see what Ellie sees. This is a story about the colossal cruelty that’s hurled at her because of her weight, and how, with colossal strength, Ellie manages to triumph. An honest, heartbreaking, hilarious novel-in-verse from a debut author with a delicious voice.”—\u003cb\u003eSonya Sones, author of \u003ci\u003eWhat My Mother Doesn’t Know\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Lisa Fipps’s spot-on verse gives Ellie a wrenchingly real voice that sings with humor, pain, and hope. Prepare yourself: Once you read this book, your heart will never be the same.” —\u003cb\u003eK. A. Holt, author of \u003ci\u003eHouse Arrest \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eLisa Fipps is a graduate of Ball State University, an award-winning former journalist, a former director of marketing for a public library (where she won the Sara Laughlin marketing award), and an author of middle-grade books. Starfish is her debut novel. She lives in Kokomo, Indiana.\u003cb\u003eFOR JUST A WHILE \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I step down into the pool. \u003cbr\u003e The water is bathwater warm \u003cbr\u003e but feels cool \u003cbr\u003e compared to the blisteringly hot air. \u003cbr\u003e Kick. Gliiiiiiide. \u003cbr\u003e Stroke. Gliiiiiiide. \u003cbr\u003e Side to side \u003cbr\u003e and back again. \u003cbr\u003e Dive under the surface. \u003cbr\u003e Soar to the top. \u003cbr\u003e Arch my back. \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eFlip. Flop. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As soon as I slip into the pool, \u003cbr\u003e I am weightless. \u003cbr\u003e Limitless. \u003cbr\u003e For just a while. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eNAME-CALLING \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Eliana Elizabeth Montgomery-Hofstein. \u003cbr\u003e That’s my name. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e My bestie, Viv, \u003cbr\u003e and my parents call me \u003cbr\u003e Ellie or El. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But most people call me Splash \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e or some synonym for \u003ci\u003ewhale\u003c\/i\u003e. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Cannonball into a pool, \u003cbr\u003e drenching everyone, \u003cbr\u003e and wear a whale swimsuit \u003cbr\u003e to your Under the Sea birthday party \u003cbr\u003e when you’re a chubby kid \u003cbr\u003e who grows up to be a fat tween \u003cbr\u003e and no one will ever let you live it down. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Ever. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eSPLASH IS BORN \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Now, whenever I swim, \u003cbr\u003e I use the steps to ease into the water, \u003cbr\u003e careful not to make waves, \u003cbr\u003e because the memory \u003cbr\u003e of my pool party plays \u003cbr\u003e in my head like a video on a loop. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It was my fifth birthday. \u003cbr\u003e I wanted to be the first one in, so \u003cbr\u003e I ran to the edge and \u003cbr\u003e leapt into the air and \u003cbr\u003e tucked my knees into my chest. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Water sprayed up \u003cbr\u003e as I sank down. \u003cbr\u003e I bobbed to the surface, \u003cbr\u003e expecting cheers for \u003cbr\u003e the splashiest cannonball ever. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eThat \u003c\/i\u003edidn’t happen. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Splash spawned a tsunami!” \u003cbr\u003e my sister, Anaïs, shouted. \u003cbr\u003e “She almost emptied the pool,” \u003cbr\u003e my brother, Liam, chimed in. \u003cbr\u003e I dove under, \u003cbr\u003e drowning my tears. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I wish I could tell everyone \u003cbr\u003e how they made me feel that day— \u003cbr\u003e humiliated, \u003cbr\u003e angry, \u003cbr\u003e deeply sad. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But every time I try to stand up for myself, \u003cbr\u003e the words get stuck in my throat \u003cbr\u003e like a giant glob of peanut butter. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Besides, if they even listened, \u003cbr\u003e they’d just snap back, \u003cbr\u003e “If you don’t like being teased, \u003cbr\u003e lose weight.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFAT GIRL RULES \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Some girls my age fill \u003cbr\u003e diaries with dreams and \u003cbr\u003e private thoughts. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Mine has a list of \u003cbr\u003e Fat Girl Rules. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e You find out \u003cbr\u003e what these unspoken rules are \u003cbr\u003e when you break them— \u003cbr\u003e and suffer \u003cbr\u003e the consequences. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Fat Girl Rules \u003cbr\u003e I learned \u003cbr\u003e at five: \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eNo cannonballs. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eNo splashing. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eNo making waves. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eYou don’t deserve \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eto be seen or heard, \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eto take up room, \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eto be noticed. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eMake yourself small. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWHAT, WHY, WHO, HOW, WHEN \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The first Fat Girl Rule \u003cbr\u003e you learn hurts the most, \u003cbr\u003e a startling, scorpion-stinging soul slap. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Something’s changed, but you don’t know \u003cbr\u003e what. \u003cbr\u003e You replay the moment in your mind from \u003cbr\u003e every possible angle, trying to understand \u003cbr\u003e why. \u003cbr\u003e Why the rules exist and \u003cbr\u003e who. \u003cbr\u003e Who came up with them and \u003cbr\u003e how. \u003cbr\u003e How does anyone have the right to tell you \u003cbr\u003e how to live just because of your weight? \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Mostly, you remember the smack of \u003cbr\u003e the change. \u003cbr\u003e One minute you were like \u003cbr\u003e everybody else, playing around, enjoying life, \u003cbr\u003e and then, \u003cbr\u003e with the flip of an unseen cosmic switch, \u003cbr\u003e you’re the fat girl, \u003cbr\u003e stumbling, \u003cbr\u003e trying to regain your balance. \u003cbr\u003e Acting as if you know what you’re doing, like \u003cbr\u003e when \u003cbr\u003e you used to play dress-up \u003cbr\u003e and tried to walk \u003cbr\u003e in high-heeled shoes. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE GIFT \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Every time I see a pudgy preschooler, \u003cbr\u003e I want to hand her my list, \u003cbr\u003e like the answer sheet for a test, \u003cbr\u003e to spare her the pain of learning \u003cbr\u003e the rules firsthand. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But instead, \u003cbr\u003e I give each girl the gift \u003cbr\u003e of more days, \u003cbr\u003e weeks, \u003cbr\u003e and months \u003cbr\u003e of a normal life. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Whatever that is. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBELLIES DANCING \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Viv’s mom caught her dad with \u003cbr\u003e another woman and said Texas \u003cbr\u003e wasn’t big enough for the three of them. \u003cbr\u003e So now my best friend has to move \u003cbr\u003e to Indiana. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e In my backyard, we livestream \u003cbr\u003e the Latin Music Festival \u003cbr\u003e on an outdoor screen \u003cbr\u003e as part of her going-away party. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Viv starts belly dancing \u003cbr\u003e like she learned in a class at \u003cbr\u003e the Dallas Public Library, \u003cbr\u003e where her mom was a librarian. \u003cbr\u003e I follow her lead and \u003cbr\u003e our arms morph into snakes \u003cbr\u003e as our hips figure-eight. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e My dog, Gigi, a pug, \u003cbr\u003e runs circles around us as \u003cbr\u003e we sing at the top of our lungs \u003cbr\u003e along with the bands and \u003cbr\u003e dance with complete abandon, \u003cbr\u003e like you do when you’re alone in your room \u003cbr\u003e trying out some new moves \u003cbr\u003e or making up some of your own. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Except it turns out \u003cbr\u003e we’re not \u003cbr\u003e alone. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE NEW NEIGHBOR \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Mid-twirl, I open my eyes to see \u003cbr\u003e a girl’s head pop up over the fence, \u003cbr\u003e then disappear and reappear. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e This trampoline girl \u003cbr\u003e saw me shake parts of me \u003cbr\u003e I didn’t even know I had. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “What do you think you’re doing?” \u003cbr\u003e I stop dancing so fast \u003cbr\u003e I about give myself whiplash. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I see her head again. \u003cbr\u003e “IheardDíasDivertidos.” \u003cbr\u003e She says it so quickly it’s like one word. \u003cbr\u003e She disappears and reappears. \u003cbr\u003e “Couldn’thelpmyself.” \u003cbr\u003e In a flash, \u003cbr\u003e she climbs over the fence \u003cbr\u003e and lands in front of me. \u003cbr\u003e “I’m Catalina Rodriguez.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA POET AND A MUSICIAN \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Catalina points to the concert on the screen. \u003cbr\u003e “Wow! So you like Días Divertidos, too? \u003cbr\u003e I have all their songs on my playlist.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Me too,” I say. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Who else do you listen to?” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Don’t get Ellie started.” \u003cbr\u003e Viv rolls her eyes. \u003cbr\u003e If eye-rolling were an Olympic sport, \u003cbr\u003e she’d be a gold medalist. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m a poet, so \u003cbr\u003e I love music because \u003cbr\u003e lyrics are sung poems,” I say. \u003cbr\u003e “Rap and country are my faves.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m a guitarist,” Catalina says. \u003cbr\u003e “I like all music but love Latin.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e She chooses her words carefully, like me. \u003cbr\u003e But she’s not like me. \u003cbr\u003e Catalina’s skinny \u003cbr\u003e like a pancake. \u003cbr\u003e I’m more like a three-tiered cake. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e My fatdar should be sounding the alarm. \u003cbr\u003e Why isn’t it? \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE THING ABOUT FATDAR \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Fatdar is a lot like \u003cbr\u003e Spider-Man’s Spidey sense, \u003cbr\u003e a sixth sense. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Somehow we just know when \u003cbr\u003e someone’s about to say \u003cbr\u003e something hurtful or \u003cbr\u003e do something mean. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Even in a crowd, \u003cbr\u003e I can spot a fatphobe, \u003cbr\u003e someone who’s grossed out \u003cbr\u003e by overweight people. \u003cbr\u003e Fatphobes give off this vibe. \u003cbr\u003e Part discomfort. \u003cbr\u003e Part shock. \u003cbr\u003e Part fear. \u003cbr\u003e Part anger. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e And all hatred. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSHADOWS \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “ ‘Baila conmigo’!” \u003cbr\u003e Catalina shouts as the next song starts \u003cbr\u003e and she dances with us. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Teach me that one move, Ellie,” she says. \u003cbr\u003e “Which one?” \u003cbr\u003e “The one where you were \u003cbr\u003e kinda kicking your leg \u003cbr\u003e while you spun.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e When I dance \u003cbr\u003e knowing Catalina’s watching, \u003cbr\u003e I feel every pound of my legs, \u003cbr\u003e see my fat shake, \u003cbr\u003e and notice how round \u003cbr\u003e my shadow on the grass is \u003cbr\u003e next to her angles, \u003cbr\u003e so I stop. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Fat Girl Rule: \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eMove slowly so \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eyour fat doesn’t jiggle, \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003edrawing attention to your body. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But that uncomfortable-in-my-own-skin feeling \u003cbr\u003e fades as the music blares \u003cbr\u003e and Catalina squeal-screams, \u003cbr\u003e going all bananas with us, \u003cbr\u003e during the tribute to Selena. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e If dance partners were food, \u003cbr\u003e Catalina and I would be \u003cbr\u003e peanut butter and jelly. \u003cbr\u003e Cookies and milk. \u003cbr\u003e Chips and salsa. \u003cbr\u003e We’re different, but \u003cbr\u003e make a perfect combo, \u003cbr\u003e heads, hips, and hands \u003cbr\u003e moving in sync. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Right on cue as the sun sets, \u003cbr\u003e the katydids start their singing, \u003cbr\u003e fast and furious since \u003cbr\u003e their tempo’s based on heat \u003cbr\u003e or maybe Selena’s \u003ci\u003ebidi-bidi-bom-bom \u003c\/i\u003ebeat. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Catalina, dale las buenas noches \u003cbr\u003e y ven a casa,” a woman’s voice calls out. \u003cbr\u003e “Gotta go,” Catalina tells us. \u003cbr\u003e “Thanks for letting me crash your party.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e She climbs back over the fence, \u003cbr\u003e then trampolines. \u003cbr\u003e “Can’twaittocomeoveragain.”","brand":"Nancy Paulsen Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303419302117,"sku":"NP9781984814524","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781984814524.jpg?v=1767737256","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/starfish-isbn-9781984814524","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}