The book’s author, Dorine White, graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in Humanities and Art History. She began writing at a young age, proudly producing picture books for her parents. Now, her writing has turned into a passion for children’s books. Currently, she lives in the beautiful, yet rainy, Northwest, with her husband and six children.
“THE EMERALD RING” EXCERPT:
“We’ll be doing several labs this block.” An excited smile crossed the teacher’s face. “Including my personal favorite: weather stations!”
Oh joy. Next to her, Harvey bobbed his head in agreement with Mr. Lincoln. Then he awkwardly patted Sara on the hand. A strange slurpy sound came out of his throat as he waited for her to show equal excitement. She managed a small smile.
Sara moved her hand and decided to face only forwards, but her plan was in vain. While taking notes on upcoming assignments, Sara heard whispering.
Sara glanced back, but the girl behind her sat quietly taking notes, not even looking up. Sara turned forward, shrugged her shoulders and went back to writing.
“Faster. Go faster.”
“What?” Sara whispered to the girl behind her.
All she got was a stony grimace and the evil eye.
She must be crazy, Sara thought. Time went by, and the teacher went on explaining the scientific method they would be using in their experiments. Maybe the girl behind her had calmed down? But no . . .
“Hurry up, you fat pig!”
Sara jumped to her feet. “What’s wrong with you? Stop it!”
It was like a bomb had dropped. The teacher pinned her with his glare, and Harvey dropped his pencil.
“Girls, is there a problem?”
“Yes,” they both answered at the same time.
Sara clenched her fists and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other girl spoke. “The girl in front of me keeps turning around and talking to me. She won’t stop.”
“That’s not true,” said Sara. “It’s her that’s doing it. She called me a “˜fat pig’!”
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did. You called me a fat pig!” Sara threw down her science book.
“That’s it, Sara. I want you to go to the principal’s office right now,” said Mr. Lincoln.
“But it wasn’t my fault.” She turned to Harvey for backup, but he was frozen in place, his pencil still rolling across the floor.
“You can explain that to the principal when you get there.” The teacher pointed at the door.
Sara took one step, tripped over her own textbook, and went down with a crash. Laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls and filling her ears. After picking herself up, Sara stared angrily at the hamster. Around and around it went, running in its little wheel, its cheeks puffing out as it panted for air. Embarrassment briefly forgotten, Sara stared, transfixed.
“Faster, faster, have to go faster,” it squeaked.
What’s going on? Is that hamster talking?