![]() ![]() ![]() She sings Happy Birthday to classmates in the lunchroom, props a small. Formerly home-schooled, Stargirl comes to their Arizona high school with a pet rat and a ukulele, wild clothes and amazing habits. Eleventh-grader Leo Borlock cannot quite believe the new student who calls herself Stargirl. We are, for a few brief moments, anything and everything we could be. Newbery-winning Spinelli spins a magical and heartbreaking tale from the stuff of high school. We are untitled, unnamed, natural, suspended between was and will be, the tadpole before the frog, the worm before the butterfly. We are not the people we know as ourselves, but creatures more in tune with a tree than a keyboard. For those few moments we are unformed, uncivilized. We have just slept the sleep of our most distant ancestors, and something of them and their world still clings to us. ![]() For those few seconds we’re something more primitive than what we are about to become. You know, there’s a place we all inhabit, but we don’t much think about it, we’re scarcely conscious of it, and it lasts for less than a minute a day It’s that time, those few seconds when we’re coming out of sleep but we’re not really awake yet. She seems to be in touch with something that the rest of us are missing. Sometimes I thought she should be teaching me. How did this girl come to be? I used to ask myself. And her parents, as ordinary, in a nice way, as could be. ![]()
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