Hidden Talents : OUT OF PRINT see 0765342650 by David Lubar
	ISBN-10:   0765357666 ISBN-13:   9780765357663 Publisher:   Tom Doherty Associates; Starscape Category:   Young Adults Pub. Date:   February 2007 Pages:   240 Format:   Paperback; Mass Market paperback
Subjects
CHILDREN'S FICTION
Description/Notes
Martin Anderson and his friends don?t like being called losers. But they?ve been called that for so long even they start to believe it. Until Martin makes an incredible discovery: each of his friends has a specialhiddentalent. Edgeview Alternative School was supposed to be end of the road. But for Martin and his friends, it just might be a new beginning. ?Hidden Talentsis becoming?and deserves to be?a classic of YA literature. It?s one of the best, no matter what age you are.??Orson Scott Card, best-selling author ofEnder?s Game, onHidden Talents nbsp; ?Lubar?s first novel is wondrously surprising, playful, and heartwarming. A promising new author.??VOYA(5Q 4P) onHidden Talents nbsp; ?A good bet for readers who like offbeat fiction. The dialogue is right on target with plenty of humor.??BooklistonHidden Talents nbsp; ?Sure to be popular.??KliattonHidden Talents ?Lubar serves up great fun, along with an insight or two for those whose powers are only too human.??Publishers WeeklyonHidden Talents OFF THE BUS AND INT0 TROUBLE nbsp; nbsp; AII I needed was handcuffs. If my wrists had been chained to the seat, the scene could have been taken straight from one of those movies where they show the bus bringing the new guy to the prison. Of course, there wasn?t any need for cuffs on this ride. Fill my pockets with rocks, add a couple more layers of winter clothes?wet winter clothes?and I might push the scale up toward ninety pounds. The bus driver looked like he weighed three times that much. His wrists were thicker than my neck. He could probably crumple me up like a used tissue and still keep one hand on the steering wheel. No way I was going to cause him any trouble. So I wasn?t in cuffs?but the rest of it felt a lot like going to prison. I was the only passenger on the bus. After a long ride across three counties, we?d reached the main gate at Edgeview Alternative School. A guard out front holding a clipboard waved us inside, then talked with the bus driver for a minute. The two of them reminded me of a pair of dogs who stop for a quick sniff as they pass each other on their way to important doggy missions. I smiled at the thought of the driver wriggling around on his back in the grass. Once the driver and the guard finished yapping, we rolled through the yard. The building even looked kind of like a prison?big, cold, gray stone, all wrapped up with a high brick fence. Edgeview was the sort of place where people kept broken machines, old tires, and other stuff they didn?t need. Yeah, this was a place for things nobody wanted. End of the trip. End of the line. No way I could pretend it wasn?t happening. As the bus stopped near the front door of the building, J noticed all the windows had that dead look of glass filled with wire?the type of windows they use in a gym or a warehouse. A man slipped out from behind the door and walked stiffly down the steps. I got the feeling he?d been watching from inside for the bus to show up so he wouldn?t seem like he was waiting. At first, I thought he was real old. As he got closer, I realized he wasn?t that much older than my parents?he just moved like he was ancient He was wearing a dark suit with a bow tie. I never trusted anyone with a bow tie. I didn?t trust anyone without a bow tie, either, but I especially didn?t trust people who wore them. The driver leaned over and pulled the handle, thrusting open the bus door. Then he glanced back at me. ?Last stop, kid. Everyone out.? He laughed. The big, stupid hunk of meat laughed like that was the funniest joke in the world. I got up. My whole body made little cracking sounds as I straightened out. My spine was having its own Fourth of July celebration, six months late. Thanks to all the construction on the highway, the ride here had taken two hours. That wasn?t counting the half-hour trip to the city to meet the bus. Me and Dad. What fun that was. Dad didn?t say a word when he handed me over to the driver. He just gave me that where-have-I-failed? look. I didn?t say anything, either. I just gave him my how-would-I-know? look. He couldn?t wait to get out of there. ?Come on, kid,? the driver said. ?I ain?t got all day.? I grabbed my bag out of the overhead rack and scooped up my jacket from the seat. Mom would have made me wear the jacket. Probably a dorky scarf, too. But it wasn?t all that cold for the beginning of January, and Mom wasn?t around. ?Move it, kid.? I took my time strolling down the aisle. ?Have a nice life,? the driver said as I walked past him. He laughed again, wheezing like a donkey with asthma. ?Have a heart attack,?