Merry Wanderer of the Night + TIME

I don't know if you've picked up on this or not yet, but Ashley loves fairy tales and fairy tale retellings. (Right, like Fairy Tale Fortnight wasn't a dead giveaway.) Anyway, I get really excited anytime I hear about a new fairy tale I get really excited. Especially when it's a retelling of a lesser known tale.

So I'm sure you can imagine my delight when I began hearing about Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu, which is a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen, one of my favorite fairy tales that definitely doesn't get enough love.

And then, I had to do a little happy dance around my room because after I mentioned how excited I was for this title on Twitter, the publicist asked it I would be interested in being part of a blog tour that offered exclusive excerpts and illustrations.

And, as if that wasn't great enough, they also sent me a copy to review, so look for that review soon!

Anyway, I'm sure you are tired of listening to me ramble. (Get to the good stuff lady!!) Alright! So — Here is an awesome sneak peek into Anne Ursu's Breadcrumbs!!

A folded-up note landed on Hazel’s lap. Her name was written on the front in boyish print. She unfolded it and beheld the words It’s your fault.

Hazel turned in her seat and glared at the boys in the back. Tyler mouthed your fault. Bobby glared at her. “Crazy Hazy,” he hissed.

In one motion Hazel stood up, grabbed the hard pencil case from her desk, and hurled it at Tyler. There were some yelps, some gasps, and then absolute quiet. Even Mrs. Jacobs had been shocked into stillness. The pencil case ricocheted off Tyler’s face and clattered on the desk. Pencils rolled everywhere. They were the only movement in the room. Hazel stood there, looking at the frozen tableau of her class, at the shocked faces of the other kids, at Tyler who was clutching his face, at Mrs. Jacobs who seemed to have short-circuited, and decided she was not sorry. Not in the least bit. She gave the room one last look, turned, and stomped out.

She looked into Mr. Williams’s room to see Jack’s desk was still empty. Mr. Williams had returned, though. Hazel could not believe he had not stopped into her classroom to give them an update. Hazel wanted to run in and ask him, but the sound of clanky footsteps from the room behind her indicated Mrs. Jacobs had regained function, so Hazel sprung off on her heel and ran down three flights of stairs into the girls’ locker room where a bunch of surprised looking fourth graders were changing into their gym clothes. Hazel straightened purposefully and gave them the sort of look fifth graders give fourth graders to keep them in line, then walked into one of the bathroom stalls and curled up in a ball on the toilet, where she sat until the end of the school day. And if anyone saw her, they would think that this was the way she was supposed to be, that it was perfectly normal to be a thing created out of the lack of something else.