Sixteen-year-old Harley Columba knows that October 9th won't be an ordinary day. At 8:00 a.m. she stands on the pier and gazes at the Statue of Liberty, framed by the morning sun and the fading moon. This is the day her first art exhibit opens in a gallery in New York City. The day Harley and her friends will visit the Broadway set designed by her newfound father, the famous Sean Shanahan. The day she returns to her hometown, Lenape Lakes, New Jersey, in stifling suburbia— with Sean , who hasn't been back for 14 years.
The fact that it's the ninth also means that she's five days late. She and Evan were careless that one time, and she could be about to make a mess of her life. October 9th—Harley's ninth—promises to be a monumental day as Harley reexamines herself as an artist, a girlfriend, a daughter, and a person.
From the Hardcover edition.
Share your thoughts on the Harley's Ninth Childrens Fiction eBook with others!
|Title of eBook: Harley's Ninth||Series: Harley, , #2|
|Release Date: 02-25-2009|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Children's Books|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Harley's Ninth|
|Devices||Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin|
|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
It is the ninth and I am five days late: that is all I can think as I jog down to the Hudson River. Five days late. Five days feels like forever when you’re female and linked to the whimsies of the moon.
Today happens to be John Lennon’s birthday, October 9th. Sean said he would take me to an exhibit of John Lennon’s artwork down in Soho that Yoko has arranged to celebrate the day. It also happens to be Saturday, which is a good thing because tomorrow is Sunday and I have another day before I have to go to my creative-writing class. I want to rewrite my paper. Now that I am five days late, a romantic interlude starring Evan seems somehow inappropriate.
I wrote my essay, “Love with a Bach Tear,” when it was assigned, two weeks ago. Mr. Alberti had issued a challenge and said: “Autobiographical incident. Anything goes.” My fellow seniors at my chic Manhattan school grouped together and decided we would be bold. Natasha Silver, who loves to shock, proclaimed she was going to write her own “private moment” disguised as a Georgia O’Keeffe iris. Livingston Smith said he would counter with a sonnet, “Ode to Little Livingston”—you can only imagine. They have already read theirs out loud, and both were hilarious. My new school is up front and in your face; you would be branded forever in Lenape Lakes, New Jersey, for writing scenes like that. I was worried I wouldn’t fit in with all these urbanites, but it suits me better than Lenape ever did. Everybody is weird, not just me, and at least they have a sense of humor. I wrote the part about Sean’s Tony Award because Bitsy Cooley, this t...