{"product_id":"the-life-and-crimes-of-bernetta-wallflower-isbn-9780147516756","title":"The Life and Crimes of Bernetta Wallflower","description":"\u003cb\u003eFrom the critically acclaimed author of \u003ci\u003eA Tangle of Knots\u003c\/i\u003e comes a humorous story full of heart, courage and a touch of magic.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBernetta’s summer couldn’t be going any worse.First her ex-best friend frames her for starting a cheating ring in their private school that causes Bernetta to lose her scholarship for 7th grade. Even worse, Bernetta’s parents don’t believe she’s innocent, and forbid her from performing at her father’s magic club. Now Bernetta must take immediate action if she hopes to raise $9,000 for tuition.  But that’s a near impossible task with only three months until school. Enter Gabe, a boy con-artist who’s willing to team up with Bernetta to raise the money. But only if she’s willing to use her talent for magic to scheme her way to success.Praise for \u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Life and Crimes of Bernetta Wallflower\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Lighthearted and . . .  enlightening.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Will enthrall readers.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This is an entertaining and offbeat outing, following cinematic convention . . . escalating things with cons within cons and subsequent counter-cons . . . [Readers will] relish the twists and turns.\"--\u003ci\u003eThe Bulletin for the Center of Children's Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The details of the different scams are fascinating . . . Graff has created an original, dimensional heroine in Bernetta.\"--\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The characters are well drawn, and Bernetta's growing qualms of conscience are believable. Readers will appreciate the well-constructed plot and intriguing snippets of magic slipped in here and there.\"--\u003ci\u003eSchool  LIbrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Graff successfully diverts the reader's attention in order to spring several surprises along the way while still making Bernetta a genuine and likable character.\"--\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eLisa Graff\u003c\/b\u003e is the author of Absolutely Almost, A Tangle of Knots, Double Dog Dare, Umbrella Summer, The Life and Crimes of Bernetta Wallflower, The Thing About Georgie and Sophie Simon Solves Them All. A former children's book editor, she's now a full-time writer and adjunct professor. Originally from California, she lived for many years in New York City and now makes her home just outside of Philadelphia. You can visit her online at \u003cb\u003ewww.lisagraff.com.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Any luck with the job hunt, Netta?” Elsa asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta gave a pathetic sideways headshake and then sat up and handed Elsa her phone. “No,” she said. “Nothing. I’m doomed.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’ll be okay,” Elsa told her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No!” Bernetta cried. “It won’t. It won’t be okay, Elsa. How on earth am I ever going to make nine thousand dollars in one summer?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eElsa frowned and looked at her toes. “I don’t know, Netta. I’m sorry.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd just like that, she left the room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe shut the door behind her, and as soon as she did, Bernetta heard a noise coming from her bedroom window, a noise that sounded suspiciously like a person clearing his throat. She spun her head toward the sound, and to her horror she saw a head pop up above the windowsill. A boy’s head. A head covered in unruly brown hair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy looked at her, as casual as anything, and smiled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know how you can make nine thousand dollars,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePrologue\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e PARLOR MAGIC n: tricks performed for a small audience\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe halls of Mount Olive private school were quiet that afternoon, completely deserted. The students were tucked away inside their classrooms, busy learning the lessons that would lead to successful and fulfilling futures. Calm, peaceful, serene.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat is, until a short brown-haired girl named Ashley Johansson stepped out of Mr. Borable’s sixth-grade science class, a hall pass clutched at her side. Mr. Borable had, like any good teacher, given Ashley the pass because he thought she needed to use the bathroom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was wrong.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmong the other things Mr. Borable didn’t know about Ashley Johansson were the following:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e   1.   When he wasn’t present, she liked to refer to him as Unbearable Mr. Borable.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e   2.   She had cheated on several of her life science exams.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e   3.   She was, at that very moment, smuggling several sheets of paper into the hallway underneath her blue school blazer.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter checking to make sure that the coast was completely clear, Ashley removed the papers from her blazer and studied the one on top. Although it had the words “Geometry Homework” scribbled on it, anyone who took a close look at the paper would realize that it was not, in fact, any sort of homework. It was instead a printout of the grades of one of Ashley’s fellow students, a tenth grader named Gregory Pewter. Ashley had never met Greg, and she didn’t care to.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat interested Ashley were Greg’s grades. He had earned all A’s in every subject and on every progress report, except English literature. His grade had recently plummeted to a very disappointing B- in that subject.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTechnically speaking, Ashley wasn’t allowed to break into the school’s online grade book during her hour as office helper every other Wednesday, but that hadn’t stopped her in the past.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer second piece of paper, which she looked at next, was a list of school lockers and their owners. She quickly found Greg’s locker, number 419, and slipped her remaining papers through the slats of his locker door.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen Greg opened his locker that afternoon, he would find that an extra-credit assignment entitled “Green Eggs and \u003ci\u003eHamlet\u003c\/i\u003e” had mysteriously appeared on top of his books. There would be no name on the essay, and it would be exactly what he needed to bring his English grade back up to an A.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eUnfortunately for Greg, that wasn’t the only thing he was going to find. If he \u003ci\u003edid\u003c\/i\u003e use the essay, and his grade rocketed back up to an A, something else would appear in his locker a week later: a note, unsigned. Ashley Johansson had slipped dozens of them into dozens of Mount Olive lockers, and each was the same.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eCheaters never prosper.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eI know what you did. Pay up or I’ll tell.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn the other side of the note would be a list of simple but effective instructions. The victim was to deposit five dollars, once a week until the end of the school year, in an envelope with his name on it, in a locker in the sixth-grade section of the girls’ locker room, number B37.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAshley had been pulling this blackmail scam all year. So far, in her first year at Mount Olive private school, she’d made what she liked to call a killing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen Ashley finished her errand, she straightened her blazer and returned to Mr. Borable’s room. He smiled at her as she replaced the hall pass on the hook by the door. Then she sat at her desk and began to write a note to the one person she’d kept in touch with at her old school.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eDear Dimwad,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eMiss me yet? I haven’t forgotten our bet. You’re going to owe me big.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eHugs \u0026amp; kisses (you wish), \u003cbr\u003eAshley\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhile Ashley was writing her letter, a girl with a thick orange-blond braid and the unusual name of Bernetta Wallflower was busy taking notes about amphibians. If she had known what was going to happen to her in just a few short months, Bernetta might have paid less attention to the teacher’s lecture and a lot more to Ashley’s note. But at the time Bernetta Wallflower thought that Ashley was her very best friend in the world.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe was, of course, wrong about that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e1\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e SLEIGHT OF HAND  n: an effect performed by manipulating the objects in one’s hand; requires impressive manual dexterity\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta pedaled her bike furiously, her long, frizzy braid whipping out behind her, strands sticking out at every twist. The second Saturday in June, she decided, was far too late in the year to be wearing a trench coat while riding a bicycle. She’d have to keep that in mind for the future.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta dumped her bike outside the Trunk Number Eight dinner club and hurried into the lobby. She raced past the trick guillotine in the corner, the wax statue that waved as she passed, and the box that appeared to hold a coin until someone stuck a hand inside to grab it, only to come back with a fistful of air. The photos that lined the walls sped by in a blur, but Bernetta had seen them so many times, she could have drawn them from memory. There was Harry Houdini hanging upside down from a skyscraper and wearing a straitjacket, the great Alexander Hermann floating a five of hearts in midair, and Harry Blackstone slicing a lady in half with a buzz saw. Right in the center, just below the sign that read TRUNK NUMBER EIGHT’S VERY OWN, was Bernetta’s favorite photo of all. The man with the flop of brown hair and the thick-rimmed glasses, holding a tiny yellow canary, was Bernetta’s father, Herbert Wallflower.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt the door to the dining room Bernetta reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a glittery pink headband, complete with a neon pink feather, and slipped it over her forehead. She cocked the feather at what she could only hope was a jaunty angle, took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe room was bursting with diners, but Bernetta quickly spotted her father performing his famous napkin-into-feathers trick at table eighteen against the far left wall. She made a sharp right and hoped her father wouldn’t notice her as she crossed to the stage.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe leaped up the stage steps and slid behind the thick red curtain. The clock on the wall read six forty-one. Nineteen minutes until show time. With any luck, her father wouldn’t notice her until she was already onstage, holding out an empty birdcage for his very first trick. Once the show had started, a magician couldn’t just tell his assistant to go home, could he? Even if she did happen to be grounded.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta slumped out of her trench coat and adjusted her bright pink sequined dress, tugging it at the hips. Maybe when her grounding was over and she was back on everyone’s good side, she’d suggest that her father’s assistant wear a less hideous dress.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Kiddo!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Bram Mitchell, Trunk Number Eight’s oldest and friendliest waiter. He wrapped her in a giant bear hug.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey there!” Bram greeted her. “I thought your dad said you weren’t coming tonight.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta shrugged. “I decided to make a surprise appearance,” she told him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“How was Elsabelle’s graduation this afternoon? Valedictorian of her class, huh? That’s big stuff!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah,” Bernetta said. “Big.” Bernetta didn’t feel like explaining that she hadn’t actually gone to her sister’s graduation. That when a person gets suspended on the last day of school—even if she doesn’t \u003ci\u003edeserve\u003c\/i\u003e to be suspended—she is barred from attending \u003ci\u003eany and all school events\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Well, I’m glad you made it. Otherwise Todd was going to fill in as assistant, and frankly I don’t think he looks half as pretty in the dress. I’ll let him know you’re here. Also, I’ve been working on my latest trick, and I wanted you to be the first to see it.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh, yeah? How’s it coming?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBram snapped his fingers by Bernetta’s right ear and produced a small red rubber ball.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Pretty good,” she told him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Not really. It was supposed to be a live alligator.” Bram’s smiling face quickly melted into grandfather seriousness, all concern and wrinkles. “But really, kiddo, is everything okay? You look troubled. Any problems I can help with?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eProblems? Bernetta almost laughed. How about a backstabbing ex-best friend, an unjust school suspension, and an unearned summer-long grounding? She’d like to see how \u003ci\u003etroubled\u003c\/i\u003e Bram would look with problems like those.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I don’t think you can help,” she said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No?” Bram replied, rolling the ball between his fingers. “I’m pretty good at fixing things.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta thought about it for a moment. “Actually,” she said, “maybe you can help.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What do you need me to do, kiddo?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta pulled back the stage curtain an inch and peered out into the dining room. Her father was still at table eighteen, but the other side of the room was clear. She turned around and looked at Bram.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I need a basket of bread,” she told him. “Table seven.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBram’s thick eyebrows shot up, like two furry gray caterpillars arching their backs. But all he said was, “Pumpernickel or sourdough?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sourdough.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBram tossed the red rubber ball to Bernetta, and she caught it. “Good luck,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta waited a full minute, running through the steps in her head, but when the clock read six forty-six, she knew it was now or never. Making sure her father was still occupied, she ducked out from behind the curtain and scurried down the stage steps, clutching a deck of cards in her right hand.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe hated to admit it, but she was just the slightest bit nervous. She’d been working the Saturday-night show as her father’s assistant for over a year now, but she’d never done any close-up work before. Maybe if she dazzled everyone at the club—showed them all what she was made of—her parents would forget about the whole stupid grounding thing. At least as far as Saturday nights were concerned. She couldn’t imagine a whole summer without Trunk Number Eight.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta was steps away from table seven when she finally took a good look at it. She’d chosen that table because it was as far away from her father as possible, but as soon as she reached it, she wished she’d gone anywhere else. There were eight boys, all around her age, laughing and talking and looking much too cool to care about someone like Bernetta. A slew of blue plastic cups reading “Happy Birthday, Patrick!” had been stacked up to form a teetering tower. At a smaller table nearby, a quartet of adults were clearly doing their best to ignore the boys’ ruckus.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eGreat\u003c\/i\u003e, Bernetta thought. Her only chance to be dazzling, and there she was, looking like a bottle of sparkling stomach medicine, at a table full of boys. She was just about to turn around and give up when Bram set down a basket of sourdough bread in the center of the table, with a barely perceptible wink in her direction. He left the table, and Bernetta cleared her throat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Um, hello?” she said to no one in particular. The boys continued to ignore her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDirectly across the table from her, one boy wearing a green T-shirt, with the words ANYBODY WANT A PEANUT? scrawled across it, reached for a sourdough roll and nudged the kid next to him with his elbow.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, Patrick,” he said. “Watch this.” Then he ripped off a piece of his roll, tossed it into the air, and caught it in his mouth. He smiled proudly but then seemed to notice Bernetta for the first time and suddenly began coughing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hello?” Bernetta tried again. “Guys?” She was running out of time.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBeside the boy with the green shirt, Patrick inched his glasses up on his nose with his index finger. “Aw, that was nothing, Gabe,” he said. “Watch this. Hey, Dan!” he called across the table. “Do that thing we practiced, ’member?” And he plucked a yellow pepper from his salad and launched it across the table.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePatrick had terrible aim. The pepper was headed directly for Bernetta’s face.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, look out!” Gabe called to her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut Bernetta didn’t need his help. She snatched the pepper right out of the air, squeezed it into her palm, and slammed her fist on the table. When she opened it, the pepper was gone, and in its place was a small red rubber ball. She bounced it on the table twice for effect, then lobbed it over to Gabe. He caught it, his eyes wide.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe table was suddenly silent. She definitely had their attention. It was now or never.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll eyes followed Bernetta as she walked around to the other side of the table and stood directly in front of the boy with the green shirt. Quickly, and with practiced ease, she took the playing cards out of their box and held them in her right hand. It was times like these, when her nerves caused her stomach to turn cartwheels, that she was glad she’d rehearsed her tricks a thousand times over. In one fluid motion she lifted a few of the cards from the top of the deck and placed them on the bottom—the Hindu Shuffle. She mixed the cards several times, and when she was done, she fanned them out in front of him, facedown.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Pick one,” she said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe opened his mouth as though to say something but then closed it. His unruly brown hair fell in front of his eyes as he studied the backs of the cards. At last he picked one, and Bernetta gathered the rest of the cards into her right hand and began shuffling again. He watched her every move, waiting for something to happen. The rest of the table watched too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Look at your card,” Bernetta told him as she shuffled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe looked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“And show it to your friends. Okay, now put it back in the deck.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen the card had been returned to the stack, Bernetta handed the entire deck to Patrick. “You can shuffle it as many times as you want,” she told him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNow came the tricky part. Bernetta had practiced, of course. But dazzling your little brother while he sat on the couch picking the lint from between his toes suddenly seemed a lot easier than performing in front of a tableful of strangers at a dinner club.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe stood up a little straighter and composed herself. “All right,” she told Gabe. “I need you to hold my hand.” And then she realized what she’d just said. To a \u003ci\u003eboy\u003c\/i\u003e. Why, oh, why hadn’t she picked the table with the senior citizens?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut Gabe didn’t even flinch. He stuck his arm straight out and smiled at her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta gulped. Why was he smiling at her? Boys never smiled at her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Um, okay, thanks,” she said. She grabbed hold of his hand then and squeezed tight, ignoring the snickers around her. “Okay. I need you to concentrate on your card. Think about the card you picked, and I’ll be able to figure out which one it is, telepathically.” She recited the words as though it were someone else saying them, Bernetta the Great, perhaps, instead of plain old frizzy-haired Bernetta Wallflower. “You have to hold on as tight as you can,” she said, “or the telepathic link becomes fuzzy.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe looked directly at her as she spoke, without blinking at all, and Bernetta did her best not to lose focus. His eyes were a very lovely shade of brown, she noticed. Not blah brown like most people’s, but deeper. Like chocolate. Hershey bar chocolate, maybe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNext to her, Patrick lost his grip on the cards. Three spilled out onto the table, and Bernetta lost her concentration for a split second. Patrick tucked the cards back into the deck. “Can I stop shuffling now?” he asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta shook her head no and tried to focus again. She had a trick to perform. And magic was all about presentation. So she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and took in a deep breath of air. Then she opened her eyes slowly—right one first, then the left—and turned to Patrick.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You can stop now,” she told him. Then she let go of Gabe’s hand, although she could still feel its weight in her own. “I have telepathically assessed which card you selected,” she announced, taking back the deck.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe whole table watched as she riffled through the deck, and Bernetta could feel the tension as they waited. She hesitated over a few cards before finally pulling out the six of diamonds. She smiled triumphantly. “Was this your card?” she asked Gabe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe shook his head and frowned. He looked disappointed. “Well, not exactly, but—”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePatrick laughed. “You kidding? It’s not even close.” He began to make an airplane out of his napkin. “\u003ci\u003eThat\u003c\/i\u003e was lame,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Wait,” Bernetta said frantically, her forehead wrinkling as she searched the deck again. “I swear that’s never happened before.” She pulled out another card. “Here. Here it is. I found it. King of spades.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePatrick rolled his eyes. “Uh, no,” he said. “Not it either.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta showed them yet another card. “This one?” she asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePatrick tossed his napkin at her. “Go away!” he shouted. “Your trick stinks!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But I—”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGabe shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said. “Really.” He handed her back the rubber ball. “You can try it again if you want.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Maybe magic’s just not your thing,” Patrick added with a smirk. “Nice dress, though.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs she slipped the cards back into the box, Bernetta gave a hefty sigh. “I should probably get ready for the big show anyway,” she said. She looked back into Gabe’s chocolate brown eyes then. “Do you know what time it is?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah,” Gabe said, lifting his arm to inspect his watch. “It’s—hey!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What?” Patrick said. “What’s wrong?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“My watch! It’s gone!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What do you mean, gone?” Bernetta asked. “Are you sure you—” She stopped as she lifted her wrist above the table. “Well, what’s \u003ci\u003ethis\u003c\/i\u003e? This definitely isn’t mine.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“That’s my watch!” Gabe cried.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMouths dropped open as Bernetta displayed the watch that was strapped securely to her wrist.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“How did you—” the boys began. “But how could—”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta merely shrugged as she handed back the watch. Then she leaned in close to Gabe. “I think,” she told him, almost in a whisper, “that you just might find a jack of diamonds hidden inside one of those bread rolls.” She pointed to the basket. “That \u003ci\u003ewas\u003c\/i\u003e your card, wasn’t it?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd as the boys dove into the breadbasket to find the card, Bernetta spun around on her heel.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eA dazzling presentation indeed\u003c\/i\u003e, she thought.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e2\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e SUSPENSION: an illusion in which a person or object appears to float without any visible support\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta’s father was standing directly behind her, his arms folded across his chest.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Um,” Bernetta began. She was suddenly feeling just a smidgen less dazzling. “Hey.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer father tilted his head to a sharp angle. “Didn’t I ground you for all eternity?” he asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta thought about that. “No,” she said after a moment. “\u003ci\u003eMom\u003c\/i\u003e grounded me for all eternity. \u003ci\u003eYou\u003c\/i\u003e grounded me until my tonsils grew back and decided to pay their own medical bills. And I think I feel them coming in.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe corners of her father’s mouth twitched into an almost smile, but he didn’t seem to be giving in without a fight. “Is that so?” he said seriously. “Say ‘ah.’”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta opened her mouth as wide as she could, and her father took a good look.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“One of them’s come back,” he told her, and then he cleared his throat. “But I’m pretty sure the other one will take the whole rest of the summer.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta closed her mouth and heaved a hefty sigh. “But I’m innocent, Dad. I \u003ci\u003eswear\u003c\/i\u003e I am. I had nothing to do with that cheating ring. I’ve told you that so many times I’ve lost count.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFifty-seven. That was how many times Bernetta had proclaimed her innocence. Fifty-seven times in two days. Bernetta never forgot a number. Maybe fifty-eight would do it. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Dad. Don’t you believe me?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta’s father tugged at his bow tie. “Oh, Bernie. I . . .” He trailed off, and his eyes had that frown in them that had been there since yesterday. Bernetta hated seeing those sad eyes when usually they sparkled like fireworks. It made her despise Ashley Johansson even more.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I can’t give up the club,” Bernetta said softly. “I love it here.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe smiled at that and tugged lightly on the long frizz of orange-blond hair that she tied back into a braid every morning, in an attempt to bring some sort of order to the tangles. “All right,” he said at last. “You can help me out tonight. Since you’re all dressed up and everything. Just for tonight, though, got it? After that we’ll need to discuss it with your mother.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta gave him an all-around hug. “Thank you!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Come on, then,” he said with a laugh. “We have people to mystify.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs they climbed the steps, lights dimming around them, the audience began to hush in anticipation for the big show, and Bernetta’s father leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “That was some trick you pulled off back there, Bernie. I’m impressed.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEven in the dark Bernetta could see that sparkle in his eye.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor the first time in a very miserable two days, things were beginning to look up.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll through the first act of her father’s show, Bernetta was so excited, she could hardly stay focused. Not that being a magician’s assistant took a whole lot of concentration. Mostly it was timing, being in the right place at the right moment, and standing onstage in a sparkly pink dress. A good distraction is what she really was. But now that her dad knew what she could do, maybe he’d insist she have more responsibility, let her do her own tricks. Maybe he’d even start paying her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs she handed her father the empty birdcage and he produced a tiny yellow canary to thunderous applause, Bernetta couldn’t help thinking about Ashley Johansson. Had it really been Ashley who framed her? Her best friend in the world? Bernetta knew it had to have been Ashley; no one else could have done it. But still, Bernetta was clinging to the hope that Ashley was somehow just as innocent as she was.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was a very tiny piece of hope.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe, Bernetta thought as she crouched inside the trunk with the breakaway bottom, maybe Ashley wasn’t to blame for any of it and was still her true-blue best friend. Bernetta hadn’t been able to talk to Ashley since being called into the principal’s office halfway through her life science final yesterday afternoon, but she still had hope that once she did talk to Ashley, things would be all cleared up.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAn itty-bitty fraction of a particle of hope.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta remained stock-still, mind churning, as her father demonstrated to the audience that the trunk truly was empty.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eStill, Bernetta thought, it was hard to ignore all those times Ashley hadn’t been the best friend in the world. What about when Bernetta had accidentally whacked herself in the face with a tennis racket during PE and Ashley had snickered along with everyone else? And what about the time Ashley told Bernetta she was a moron for not knowing who the Paisley Skunks were? Not to mention the day that—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA roar of laughter from the audience snapped Bernetta back to her senses.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn front of the trunk, her father was pacing with heavy steps. “Well, I do hope I haven’t lost my lovely assistant for good!” he said. The audience laughed again. “Let’s try that one more time, shall we?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta had missed her cue! She bit her bottom lip as her father pointed his wand into the trunk and tapped its edge with three staccato raps.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe leaped out of the trunk, arms spread wide. The stage lights danced off her sequined dress as the audience erupted into applause. Her father grinned too. “I told you all she wasn’t lost forever!” he announced. But when he turned around, he shot her a puzzled glance.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBernetta blinked twice, hoping he’d understand she was sorry.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eKeep your mind on the show\u003c\/i\u003e, she told herself as they headed for her father’s last illusion.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Viking Books for Young Readers","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301420912869,"sku":"NP9780147516756","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780147516756.jpg?v=1767740224","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-life-and-crimes-of-bernetta-wallflower-isbn-9780147516756","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}