August 24, 2006

Happy Hippie Hotel

Tracey Forrester is in hell. Okay, she's actually on vacation with her father and for the first time, not with her mother, too. Her parents are divorced, so her dad is having "together time" with she and her brother, only Tracey isn't having any of it. She is on strike. She could be a world-class pianist at a world class piano retreat, but she's blown off her lessons and hasn't even played in weeks. She doesn't think her Dad's even noticed.

The house they're staying in she calls The Hippie Hotel, because it's run by this totally weird hippie chick with all this long gray hair, and this totally cute son, Paul, who of course, never even actually speaks to Tracey unless he has to. Tracey knows who and what she is: vanilla oatmeal. Especially with people like Beka, the mad sort of goth girl who spends the most time with Paul, or with the newcomer, Kelsey, who is pretty and tan and all Berkeley cool, and who actually once had courage to break up with a a skateboarder.

Tracey would've been stuck on the outside her whole vacation if it weren't for the fact that Kelsey is cooler than she thought. She's nice. She's patient. She talks her out of binging. And then Tracey meets Kevin, and she's flat gobsmacked: she's about to maybe have a ...thing. A summer thing!!! But then there's Beka. And Kelsey. And Tracey: vanilla oatmeal.

For everybody who has ever compared themselves to others and come out badly, My Not-So-Terrible Time at the Hippie Hotel is a book that will make you say "Hey! You're cool as you are," or maybe "snap out of it, girl!" and then "YAY!" for the underdog. Finally!

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