Beautiful
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Beautiful

4.1 177
by Amy Reed
     
 

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When Cassie moves from the tiny town where she has always lived to a suburb of Seattle, she is determined to leave her boring, good-girl existence behind. This is Cassie's chance to stop being

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Overview

Download a free excerpt of Beautiful.

When Cassie moves from the tiny town where she has always lived to a suburb of Seattle, she is determined to leave her boring, good-girl existence behind. This is Cassie's chance to stop being invisible and become the kind of girl who's worth noticing.

Stepping into her new identity turns out to be easier than Cassie could have ever imagined...one moment, one choice, will change everything.

Cassie's new existence both thrills and terrifies her. Swept into a world of illicit parties and social landmines, she sheds her virginity, embraces the numbness she feels from the drugs, and floats through it all, knowing that she is now called beautiful. She ignores the dangers of her fast-paced life?but she can't sidestep the secrets and the cruelty.

Cassie is trapped in a swift downward spiral tinged with violence and abuse, and no one—not even the one person she thought she could trust—can help her now.

?Beautiful is stark, disquieting and, quite simply, riveting. Amy Reed is an author to keep on your radar.? —Ellen Hopkins, bestselling author of Crank

?A latter-day Go Ask Alice, Beautiful is raw, gritty, and powerful, an intense ice-pick jab to the heart. A stunning debut and a must-read.? —R.A. Nelson, author of Teach Me

"In crisp, clean prose Amy Reed places the reader right into the heart and mind and life of a girl who makes the choice to be one of the beautiful ones. Reed gives a disturbing and concise snapshot of what it can be like today for teens struggling with self-identity and peer acceptance when in a heartbeat they follow the 'wrong road.'" —M. Sindy Felin, National Book Award Finalist forTouching Snow

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Editorial Reviews

Children's Literature - Jennifer Lehmann
Beautiful is a devastating look at the downward spiral of an adolescent girl seeking acceptance. Cassie has just moved from Bainbridge Island to Seattle. No one at her new school knows her as the pudgy nobody her classmates in her small town ignored. Here, now, she is beautiful and determined to be noticed. Her decisions, while terrifying for the reader, are perfectly understandable. Her parents are loving, but more involved in their own unhappiness than in keeping a close watch on Cassie. Her new friend Alex is her ticket into the world of drugs, sex, and acceptance, but Alex's personal demons become clearer and more dangerous as their friendship deepens. The first-person, present-tense voice keeps the reader constantly absorbed in Cassie's life and never sure what the next moment may bring. Through Cassie's eyes, we see how easy it is to fall and how brutal the world can really be. Though fear never loses its grip on Cassie or on the reader's attention, persistent hope is what keeps the pages turning. For all its rawness, the story itself is beautiful and vital. Reviewer: Jennifer Lehmann
School Library Journal
Gr 9 Up—Thirteen-year-old Cassie has bloomed. Following her family's move from an island off the coast of Washington to a Seattle suburb, she has a new attractiveness that earns her the moniker "the beautiful seventh grader." Her good looks and willingness to conform are a passport to her school's powerful clique of druggies led by Alex, a frightening but charismatic fellow seventh grader who adopts Cassie as her best friend. Cassie's compliance with Alex's demands—to burn photographs of former friends, to take acid, to have sex—secures her a position as Alex's second in command but threatens her health and safety. When Alex's half sister Sarah moves in with Alex and her wasted mother, Cassie finds her allegiance shifting from her best friend to Sarah. Reed's first novel owes a tremendous debt to Catherine Hardwicke's 2002 film Thirteen; however, where the filmic treatment of its 13-year-old heroines' dangerous experimentation is complicated by the richness of their characters and their interactions with one another and the supporting cast, this novel is less complex and more sensational. It is difficult to discern motivation for many of the characters, whose actions—Alex's in particular—are explained in almost clichéd form, and the secondary characters are one-dimensional.—Amy S. Pattee, Simmons College, Boston
Kirkus Reviews
Thirteen-year-old Cassie makes a snap decision to reinvent her nerdy, unpopular self when she moves to a new school district in Seattle. When green-haired Alex invites-actually drags-her over to the table where the "dangerous" ninth-grade boys sit, she goes along. And from there she goes along, unresisting, with everything else: heavy drinking, constant use of myriad drugs, sexual encounters that she dislikes and theft. Her dysfunctional, self-absorbed parents are numb to her growing despair, which results from her out-of-control behavior. Cassie shows remarkable insight in her first-person narration, even through her drug-induced fog. When another teen, sexually abused by her father, falls under Alex's thrall and reaches out to Cassie for help, the seventh grader hits rock bottom. Rather than acting as a cautionary tale, this novel often seems to function more as a roadmap to a dark but realistic underworld of young unsupervised teens drifting from one unsavory experience to another. A conclusion that seems implausibly optimistic, considering the life Cassie's recently led, slaps a bandage on an oozing sore. (Fiction. 14 & up)
From the Publisher
"[Beautiful] is essentially a new-millenium Go Ask Alice with a similar blend of cautionary horror story and weirdly fascinated detail . . . . Chilling narration . . . . There's boldness in the book's willingness to make Cassie unsympathetic at times . . . . Train-wreck fascination galore . . . . It'll probably be passed around enthusiastically."
The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, November 2009.

"The gift in this book [Beautiful] is Reed's ability to find the perfect words and use them in ways for which the reader is not ready. The writing is lonely, haunting, sensuous, and oddly beautiful."
—VOYA, August 2010

VOYA - C. J. Bott
In this sad, dark book with pain-filled characters, thirteen-year-old Cassie is the new girl at school trying to recreate herself. During her transition, she is attracted to Alex, an intimidating, abusive manipulator who leads Cassie into boys, drugs, and sex. Cassie goes willingly, but during her first sexual experience, she watches from the ceiling in an out-of-body experience and later showers in scalding water—both common to rape victims. Frail and fading, Sarah, Alex's half-sister, has been sexually abused by her father since she was little—the scars prove the abuse Sarah does not remember. Messed-up and absent in her own life, Cassie wants to protect Sarah. The target audience is questionable with a main character of thirteen; most middle schools will not teach this book, and high school students rarely read about thirteen year olds. The gift in this book is Reed's ability to find the perfect words and use them in ways for which the reader is not ready. The writing is lonely, haunting, sensuous, and oddly beautiful. Reviewer: C. J. Bott

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Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781416978312
Publisher:
Simon Pulse
Publication date:
10/05/2010
Edition description:
Reprint
Pages:
256
Sales rank:
171,551
Product dimensions:
5.50(w) x 8.10(h) x 0.80(d)
Lexile:
HL800L (what's this?)
Age Range:
14 - 17 Years

Read an Excerpt

(ONE)

I don’t see her coming.

I am looking at my piece of pizza. I am watching pepperoni glisten. It is my third day at the new school and I am sitting at a table next to the bathrooms. I am eating lunch with the blond girls with the pink sweaters, the girls who talk incessantly about Harvard even though we’re only in seventh grade. They are the kind of girls who have always ignored me. But these girls are different than the ones on the island. They think I am one of them.

She grabs my shoulder from behind and I jump. I turn around. She says, “What’s your name?”

I tell her, “Cassie.”

She says, “Alex.”

She is wearing an army jacket, a short jean skirt, fishnet stockings, and combat boots. Her hair is shoulder length, frizzy and green. She’s tall and skinny, not skinny like a model but skinny like a boy. Her blue eyes are so pale they don’t look human and her eyelashes and eyebrows are so blond they’re almost white. She is not pretty, not even close to pretty. But there’s something about her that’s bigger than pretty, something bigger than smart girls going to Harvard.

It’s only my third day, but I knew the second I got here that this place was different. It is not like the island, not a place ruled by good girls. I saw Alex. I saw the ninth grade boys she hangs out with, their multicolored hair, their postures of indifference, their clothes that tell everybody they’re too cool to care. I heard her loud voice drowning everything out. I saw how other girls let her cut in front of them in line. I saw everyone else looking at her, looking at the boys with their lazy confidence, everyone looking and trying not to be seen.

I saw them at the best table in the cafeteria and I decided to change. It is not hard to change when you were never anything in the first place. It is not hard to put on a T-shirt of a band you overheard the cool kids talking about, to wear tight jeans with holes, to walk by their table and make sure they see you. All it takes is moving off an island to a suburb of Seattle where no one knows who you were before.

“You’re in seventh grade.” She says this as a statement.

“Yes,” I answer.

The pink-sweater girls are looking at me like they made a big mistake.

“Where are you from?” she says.

“Bainbridge Island.”

“I can tell,” she says. “Come with me.” She grabs my wrist and my plastic fork drops. “I have some people who want to meet you.”

I’m supposed to stand up now. I’m supposed to leave the pizza and the smart girls and go with the girl named Alex to the people who want to meet me. I cannot look back, not at the plate of greasy pizza and the girls who were almost my friends. Just follow Alex. Keep walking. One step. Two steps. I must focus on my face not turning red. Focus on breathing. Stand up straight. Remember, this is what you want.

The boys are getting bigger. I must pretend I don’t notice their stares. I cannot turn red. I cannot smile the way I do when I’m nervous, with my cheeks twitching, my lips curled all awkward and lopsided. I must ignore the burn where Alex holds my wrist too tight. I cannot wonder why she’s holding my wrist the way she does, why she doesn’t trust me to walk on my own, why she keeps looking back at me, why she won’t let me out of her sight. I cannot think of maybes. I cannot think of “What if I turned around right now? What if I went the other way?” There is no other way. There is only forward, with Alex, to the boys who want to meet me.

I am slowing down. I have stopped. I am looking at big sneakers on ninth grade boys. Legs attached. Other things. Chests, arms, faces. Eyes looking. Droopy, red, big-boy eyes. Smiles. Hands on my shoulders. Pushing, guiding, driving me.

“James, this is Cassie, the beautiful seventh grader,” Alex says. Hair shaved on the side, mohawk in the middle, face pretty and flawless. This one’s the cutest. This one’s the leader.

“Wes, this is Cassie, the beautiful seventh grader.” Pants baggy, legs spread, lounging with arms open, baby-fat face. Not a baby, dangerous. He smiles. They all smile.

Jackson, Anthony. I remember their names. They say, “Sit down.” I do what they say. Alex nods her approval.

I must not look up from my shoes. I must pretend I don’t feel James’s leg touching mine, his mouth so close to my ear. Don’t see Alex whispering to him. Don’t feel the stares. Don’t hear the laughing. Just remember what Mom says about my “almond eyes,” my “dancer’s body,” my “high cheekbones,” my “long neck,” my hair, my lips, my breasts, all of the things I have now that I didn’t have before.

“Cassie,” James says, and my name sounds like flowers in his mouth.

“Yes.” I look at his chiseled chin. I look at his teeth, perfect and white. I do not look at his eyes.

“Are you straight?” he says, and I compute in my head what this question might mean, and I say, “Yes, well, I think so,” because I think he wants to know if I like boys. I look at his eyes and know I have made a mistake. They are green and smiling and curious, wanting me to answer correctly. He says, “I mean, are you a good girl? Or do you do bad things?”

“What do you mean by bad things?” is what I want to say, but I don’t say anything. I just look at him, hoping he cannot read my mind, cannot smell my terror, will not now realize that I do not deserve this attention, that he’s made a mistake by looking at me in this not-cruel way.

“I mean, I noticed you the last couple of days. You seemed like a good girl. But today you look different.”

It is true. I am different from what I was yesterday and all the days before that.

“So, are you straight?” he says. “I mean, do you do drugs and stuff?”

“Yeah, um, I guess so.” I haven’t. I will. Yes. I will do anything he wants. I will sit here while everyone stares at me. I will sit here until the bell rings and it is time to go back to class and the girl named Alex says, “Give me your number,” and I do.

• • •

Even though no one else talks to me for the rest of the day, I hold on to “beautiful.” I hold on to lunch tomorrow at the best table in the cafeteria. Even though I ride the bus home alone and watch the marina and big houses go by, there are ninth grade boys somewhere who may be thinking about me.

Even though Mom’s asleep and Dad’s at work, even though there are still boxes piled everywhere from the move, even though Mom’s too sad to cook and I eat peanut butter for dinner, and Dad doesn’t come home until the house is dark, and the walls are too thin to keep out the yelling, even though I can hear my mom crying, there is a girl somewhere who has my number. There are ninth grade boys who will want it. There are ninth grade boys who may be thinking about me, making me exist somewhere other than here, making me something bigger than the flesh in the corner of this room. There is a picture of me in their heads, a picture of someone I don’t know yet. She is not the chubby girl with the braces and bad perm. She is not the girl hiding in the bathroom at recess. She is someone new, a blank slate they have named beautiful. That is what I am now: beautiful, with this new body and face and hair and clothes. Beautiful, with this erasing of history.

© 2009 Amy Reed

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Meet the Author

Amy Reed is the author of Beautiful, Clean, Crazy, and Over You. Originally from the Seattle area, she now lives and writes in Oakland, California. To learn more, visit her at AmyReedFiction.com.

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