House Party
By Eric Walters
3.5/5
()
About this ebook
Eric Walters
Eric Walters is a Member of the Order of Canada and the author of over 125 books that have collectively won more than 100 awards including the Governor General’s Literary Award for The King of Jam Sandwiches. A former teacher, Eric began writing as a way to get his fifth-grade students interested in reading and writing. Eric is a tireless presenter, speaking to over 100,000 students per year in schools across the country. He lives in Guelph, Ontario.
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Reviews for House Party
8 ratings2 reviews
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5House Party by : Eric Walters - another book from the series Orca SoundingThis book "House Party" has the genres of Drinking,Property Damage,Party etc. To my opinion I think this book was better than "I.D". The message of this book would be something little can turn into a disaster.People I would recommend this book to is for short readers, people who don't like reading long books. If your looking for a short but sweet book to read , read "House Party"- By Eric Walters !
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I think the book "House Party" was based on peer pressure and just another scenario about what happens when teens start drinking. It was an okey book telling you about how sometimes one small move can lead to a big problem. House Party wasn't a difficult book to read and i would recommand it to you if you like to read teen books. If you're ever bored and just want to read a simple, or something you might be able to relate to kind of book, try this one.
Book preview
House Party - Eric Walters
responsibly.
Chapter One
There was a knock on the bedroom door.
Hello, it’s me!
my mother called from the hallway.
Come in!
I called back. I put down my book, and Jen quickly minimized the msn window on the computer. Her school assignment now filled the screen.
My mother always knocked before she entered. She poked her head in the door and I looked up from where I was lying on my bed, studying math.
Are you girls studying hard?
she asked.
As hard as we can,
Jen said.
That was only a half-lie. I’d been studying hard because I had a big math test on Monday and math wasn’t one of my strengths. Jen, on the other hand, had spent almost all her time on msn talking to people she didn’t know, hadn’t met and probably never would meet. If it was possible to be addicted to the Internet, Jen was.
I was thinking it might be time for you two to take a break,
my mother said. I’ve just taken some cookies out of the oven.
I told you I could smell cookies,
Jen said.
Double chocolate with extra chips,
my mother said.
"I love your cookies," Jen said, and my mother smiled.
Jen wasn’t kidding. She did love my mother’s cookies. And her pies and cakes and pretty well anything else she baked. Jen liked sweets. A lot. Probably more than was good for her.
Jen had a little bit of a weight problem, and she was always on some sort of diet, trying to lose a few pounds. She switched back and forth from diet to diet. Each new one was guaranteed
to drop the weight.
I knew which method would probably work—don’t eat so much and exercise more—but that one hadn’t come up yet.
It wasn’t that Jen was fat, because she wasn’t. She was just a little plump. She was a bit overweight, not more than ten or fifteen pounds for sure.
That wasn’t how she saw herself, though. As far as Jen was concerned, she was just plain fat. And worse, those extra pounds were the reason that things didn’t work out for her. She was positive she was only a few pounds away from boyfriends, popularity, fame and fortune.
So, do you want some m ilk and cookies?
my mother asked.
"A cookie, or two, would be great, I said, giving Jen the evil eye.
But could you bring them up here so we could keep studying?"
I would never want to get in the way of studying,
she said, but there was something I wanted to talk to you about as well.
I felt the hair on the back of my neck go up.
What do you want to talk about?
I asked, trying not to show my anxiety. I didn’t like these sorts of conversations. Six months ago, that had been the first line my parents had used when they told me that we were moving—leaving behind everybody and everything I’d ever known to come down here to live.
Nothing serious. It can wait until after dinner.
I sat up on the edge of the bed. It doesn’t have to wait. Let’s talk now.
Sure, if you want.
I want.
That was another half-lie. I didn’t want to talk about anything really, but I’d rather talk about it now than later. Talking about it later left too much time for my imagination to play around.
You know your father is going away on business this weekend, right?
Yeah,
I said, suspiciously. His business took him back to our old town at least once a month.
I was thinking that it would be good for me to go along with him. It’s easier to take care of the house closing details in person.
Our house had just sold two weeks ago. It had been on the market since we’d moved. In my heart—if not in my head—I figured that if we didn’t sell the house we’d eventually just move back home. Now it was gone, along with my last faint hopes.
So that would mean you have to come with us,
she said.
That would be great!
I exclaimed. I could visit with old friends and…no I couldn’t.
I can’t go,
I said. I have a soccer game on Saturday morning and a math exam on Monday.
You could miss the game, and there’s no law that says you can’t study there,
my mother said.
"First off, I really shouldn’t miss the game, and second, while there’s no law