School Library Journal Review
Gr 9 Up-In a contemporary version of Peter Pan set on California beaches, Wendy Darling goes in search of her brothers Michael and David just after her graduation from high school. Although they've been missing for nine months and are presumed drowned, Wendy believes that her brothers became hooked on "Fairy Dust" and ran away to surf. She stumbles into a hidden cove, where a community of runaway teens lives in abandoned houses with their leader, Pete, and his possessive sidekick, Belle. Pete teaches Wendy to "fly" on a surfboard, and she soon falls in love with surfing and with him. When Wendy learns that Pete kicked her brothers out of the idyllic community for using drugs, she turns to his nemesis, the dealer who sold them their first taste of fairy dust, Jas. Together, they run away in the middle off the night to surf an epic wave and hopefully find the twins. Although references to J. M. Barrie's classic tale abound, this is no children's story, with two steamy romances and prevalent drug use. Its ambiguous ending may leave some readers unsatisfied, but it is in the spirit of this magical tale about never wanting to grow up.-MaryAnn Karre, West Middle School, Binghamton, NY (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Publisher's Weekly Review
Offering more psychological drama than magic, this modern rendition of Peter Pan traces Wendy's quest to find her brothers, John and Michael, months after their broken surfboards are retrieved from the ocean. Refusing to believe her brothers have drowned, Wendy travels the California coast to search for them, a journey that leads her to a beach community of abandoned houses. One side of the beach is ruled by squatter Pete, who lives with his band of carefree looters; the other half belongs to drug dealer Jas, who has lured away some of Pete's friends with his potent "fairy dust." Both boys may hold clues to what happened to Wendy's brothers. Blurring the lines between villains and heroes, truth and (perhaps drug-induced) illusion, Sheinmel (The Stone Girl) offers an intriguing premise and a dramatic portrayal of an unstable, grief-stricken teen. However, while Barrie's classic transplants neatly to a contemporary surf-culture setting, the parallels come across more as a clever hook than an integral part of the story. Ages 12-up. Agent: Josh Bank and Joelle Hobeika, Alloy Entertainment. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Horn Book Review
Wendy's quest to find her brothers, Michael and John, leads to a secret Pacific cove where homeless surfers live on the fringes of society. Her attraction to both leader Pete and to Jas, who deals a dangerous drug called "fairy dust," creates an intense love triangle. Sheinmel's overt allusions to Barrie eventually yield to an original story about grief and growing up. (c) Copyright 2014. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
This retelling of Peter Pan set in the surfing community makes some of its own magic. Wendy Darling, just out of high school, can't forget her twin 16-year-old brothers, John and Michael, who disappeared nine months ago. Police finally find their damaged surfboards, which convinces their parents that they must be dead, but Wendy can't believe it. Unable to deal with the grief, she becomes determined to find them and stumbles upon an almost-magical beach, with pure white sand and endless, perfect waves. There she meets Pete, who gives her a surfing lesson that feels like flying. Pete lives with his friends, including the jealous Belle, in an abandoned home on the nearby cliff, feeding them by theft. Living in another house on the cliff is Jas, Pete's former friend, who has become a dealer in "fairy dust" and now poses a serious threat. Convinced Jas knows where her brothers went, Wendy crashes a party at his house, after which Jas teams up with her to try to find the missing boys. Sheinmel works her ambiguous fantasy with skill, staying mostly within the framework of the Peter Pan story until she pairs up Jas and Wendy. Readers familiar with the source will appreciate it most, but there's enough meat to sustain those who are not; abundant emphasis on surfing lends the story a distinct atmosphere. An absorbing new look at a familiar tale. (Mystery. 12-18)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
1 I can smell the bonfire before I even get out of the car. It's dusk, and the sun is low on the water. According to my watch, it's been exactly four hours since I officially graduated high school. But I don't feel any more grown-up now than I did this morning. I leave my shoes in the car and step onto the beach. "Congratulations," I say to no one in particular, to whichever of my classmates are close enough to hear. I've never heard the same word so many times in one day. "Wendy!" Fiona's voice rings above the crowd as she runs toward me. Fiona has always had the loudest voice, the biggest laugh. Even in kindergarten, it got us into trouble sometimes. Her arms fly around my waist and we both go crashing to the ground. I sit up quickly, crossing my legs beneath me, and Fiona rests her chin on my shoulder. The brush of her strawberry blond hair raises goose bumps on my bare arm. My own dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of my neck. "Where's Dax?" Fiona shrugs with the ease of a girl who knows her boyfriend won't stay away long. "Around." I remember how they looked at graduation this afternoon. I was sitting on the stage, in the section for those graduating with honors, so it was easy to look down on the crowd and pick out Fiona. Dax kept his arm around her shoulder the entire time, even though it was sweltering hot underneath our caps and gowns. Fiona grabs my hand with a laugh and pulls me to stand. "Your fingers are icy." From behind us a voice says, "Let me see." I can feel Dax's touch before I see him. I try not to shiver when he takes both my hands in his, brings them to his mouth, and blows. "Man," he says, "you are ice-cold, girl." Yes , I think, that's me . The ice princess who lives in the glass house on the hill. The girl who closes her door to write her college essays while her parents are talking to the police in the living room. "I'm okay." I pull my hands away and fold my arms across my chest. "Really." "Let's get you close to the fire," he says, ignoring my protests. "I'm really not cold," I argue as he tries to pull me away, making a path among the kids gathered around the bonfire. Instead of following, I turn to face the water, my back to my friends. A group of boys are paddling out among the waves. "Surfers," I whisper. I didn't mean to say the word out loud. My brothers started surfing when they were ten years old, the two littlest surfers on the beach. And the two most determined. Now I watch strangers surf, boys who remind me of John and Michael, bobbing up and down between the waves, shouting to each other, pointing to the spaces where the water breaks, paddling out and then drifting back. "Wendy," Fiona says gently, "you know they're not out there, right?" I try to ignore the shiver of anger that runs down my spine at her words. They're out there , I think, somewhere . "You okay?" Fiona puts her arm around me, and I fight the urge to shrug it off. She is just trying to find the right thing to say; everyone always tries to find the right thing to say. As if there were any words that could make it better. My brothers disappeared nine months ago, just as the school year was beginning. The police searched for them, but even I could see that it was a halfhearted investigation. They didn't think much of a couple kids running off to the beach for a few days, a few weeks, a few months. At first, my parents called the station every day, insisting on talking to the detective in charge, trying to explain that their boys were different from all the other teenage runaways. But the police had seen this story play out too many times. They had murder suspects to hunt, thieves to catch. Two sixteen-year-olds on a joyride up the coast was hardly enough to hold their attention. I still remember the last time I saw Michael and John. They had packed up their favorite surfboards and their wet suits for some early waves, just like they did every morning. There was still sand glinting in their hair from the previous day's surf. They never got it all out, no matter how many times they washed their hair. John had been driving, and I imagined I could hear Michael urging him to hurry as they pulled out of the driveway without a backward glance. I close my eyes at the memory and take a deep breath. I feel closest to them when I'm near the water. Dax moves to stand between me and Fiona, putting an arm around my shoulders and taking Fiona's hand. I've tried to figure out how Dax automatically became my friend the minute he started dating Fiona, but I have no idea. Maybe there's some unspoken rule about best friends' boyfriends that I don't know about because I've never had a real boyfriend myself. The heat that radiates from Dax's body makes me uncomfortable. "I left my phone in the car," I lie. "I'll be right back." But I don't even bother walking to the parking lot. Once I'm sure Fiona and Dax are no longer watching, I make my way to the water's edge, the waves lapping against my toes, higher and higher as the tide comes in. The sun has set completely now. In the distance I can just make out the silhouette of a boy on a surfboard. He floats between the waves, patient while he waits to take a ride. It's dark now, and he's the only surfer left on the water. But he doesn't look scared. The air around him is bright, like the stars are following him, his very own spotlight. He makes it look easy, paddling in between the waves and shifting into a crouch. I inhale sharply when he jumps up to stand. It looks like he's floating over the water. It looks like he's flying. Without thinking, I take another step, even though the hem of my dress is growing heavy with salt water. I move deeper and deeper, closer and closer. The water rises with a gentle touch, the sea wrapping its cool arms around me. I close my eyes and just listen to the waves: rising and crashing, rising and crashing. But then there is the sound of someone splashing into the water and the feel of a strong hand encircling my arm. "Are you okay?" I blink. The surfer is in the water next to me, his board bobbing a few feet away. "What were you thinking?" he shouts. He puts an arm around me and starts pulling me to shore, letting go only when we've reached the shallows. Water drips from the ends of his dark hair down his face. Even in the darkness I can see that his skin is covered with freckles. I shake my head in confusion. I wasn't thinking. I didn't even realize how deep I'd gone in. I just wanted to get a closer look. I'm surprised to feel that the tips of my hair, my shoulders, even the underside of my chin, are wet. "My board could have hit your head," he says, just loudly enough to be heard over the waves. "It's a good thing I saw you." "I'm sorry," I reply. "Nothing to be sorry for," he says, shaking his head. "Just be more careful next time." He's so tall that water from his shaking head falls down on me like raindrops. "Next time," I repeat, but he's already released my arm from his light grasp. And then he's gone. Copyright © 2014 by Alloy Entertainment and Alyssa B. Sheinmel Excerpted from Second Star by Alyssa B. Sheinmel All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.