About this item
From the critically acclaimed author of Anything But Typical comes a touching look at the days leading up to the tragic events of September 11, 2001, and how that day impacted the lives of four middle schoolers.Ask anyone: September 11, 2001, was serene and lovely, a perfect day - until a plane struck the World Trade Center. But right now it is a few days earlier, and four kids in different parts of the country are going about their lives. Sergio, who lives in Brooklyn, is struggling to come to terms with the absentee father he hates and the grandmother he loves. Will's father is gone, too, killed in a car accident that has left the family reeling. Naheed has never before felt uncomfortable about being Muslim, but at her new school she's getting funny looks because of the head scarf she wears. Aimee is starting a new school in a new city and missing her mom, who has to fly to New York on business. These four don't know one another, but their lives are about to intersect in ways they never could have imagined. Award-winning author Nora Raleigh Baskin weaves together their stories into an unforgettable novel about that seemingly perfect September day - the day our world changed forever.
About the Author
Truth- I started writing seriously in 5th grade. I began with poetry. All I remember about my first poem, was that it had something to do with reincarnation. It was short but startlingly profound (so I thought) . But what I remember most was my teacher's reaction. She loved it. My life was changed. I had discovered the power of words. By 6th grade I was writing short stories and keeping journals. I read constantly and my early writing was always influenced by what I was reading. At one point I became interested in Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan. I wrote a short story, in first person, about a blind and deaf girl struggling to express her thoughts. By high school I had attempted my first short novel, weaving my life into the events of World War II. I was a Jewish girl escaping Nazi Germany after my mother's death and searching for mymissing father. Writing was my way of articulating all the emotions and all the drama I found myself exploring during those years. Even my senior thesis in college was a jumble of feelings and experimentalwriting based on my life experiences. It was, of course extremely terrible. I think I was trying to make sense of all the confusion and unanswered questions. And I believed I could find some kind of truth if I put it down on paper. I was young, and I believed inwords- as my father would say. Now, I'm not so young (not as young) but I still believe in words.However, it did take me a long time to realize that truth is only the way you remember it. It is all in the interpretation. I realized that my truth was mine to manipulate. And I began to write fiction. I was finally able to care more about the story than the facts. Take what you need and what you want and let go of everything else.And the amazing thing was when I did just that , I was free. I was free from the burden of my own history. I was free as a writer to create. To write.
