about the book:
THE GIRL IN THE RED HOOD has been looking for her mother for six
months, searching from the depths of New York’s subways to the heights of its
skyscrapers . . .
THE PRINCE looks like he’s from another time entirely, or maybe he’s just too good at his job at Ye Old Renaissance Faire . . .
THE ACTRESS is lighting up Hollywood Boulevard with her spellbinding and strikingly convincing portrayal of a famous fairy. Her name may be big, but her secrets barely fit in one world . . .
Fifteen-year-old Crescenzo never would have believed his father’s carvings were anything more than “stupid toys.” All he knows is a boring life in an ordinary Virginia suburb, from which his mother and his best friend have been missing for years. When his father disappears next, all Crescenzo has left is his goofy neighbor, Pietro, who believes he’s really Peter Pan and that Crescenzo is the son of Pinocchio. What’s more: Pietro insists that they can find their loved ones by looking to the strange collection of wooden figurines Crescenzo’s father left behind.
With Pietro’s help, Crescenzo sets off on an adventure to unite the real life
counterparts to his figurines. It’s enough of a shock that they’re actually
real, but the night he meets the Girl in the Red Hood, dark truths burst from
the past. Suddenly, Crescenzo is tangled in a nightmare where magic mirrors and
evil queens rule, and where everyone he loves is running out of time.
“But she does. And now
she’s not my friend anymore, and I’m sad.”
“Don’t be sad. My
brother and I are still your friends. And Pinocchio. And Alice. We don’t think
you’re scruffians.”
Alice nodded in
agreement.
“Thanks. But I’m still
sad. When I think about Wendy, I feel her in here.” Peter pounded his chest.
“It’s kind of like my heart starts crying.”
“You were in love!”
Hansel sang. A big smile spread across his face. “You fancied her. And guess
what? The pretty girl who always picks flowers by the meadow? I think she
fancies me.”
When Peter’s posture
wilted, Gretel punched her brother in the shoulder, and his smile quickly
receded.
“I mean, I’m sorry,
Peter. Someday we’ll find girls who feel us in their hearts, too. I know it.”
about the author:
When Jacob Devlin was four years old, he would lounge around in Batman pajamas and make semi-autobiographical picture books about an adventurous python named Jake the Snake. Eventually, he traded his favorite blue crayon for a black pen, and he never put it down. When not reading or writing, Jacob loves practicing his Italian, watching stand-up comedy, going deaf at rock concerts, and geeking out at comic book conventions. He does most of these things in southern Arizona.
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