Stained Glass Summer

ISBN: 978-1-61937-043-2
December 30, 2011
Musa Publishing/Euterpe YA

Twelve-year-old Jasmine wants to be an artist. But, can she escape the shadow of her artistic Father to discover her own path as a glass artist?

Synopsis: Twelve-year-old Jasmine adores her photographer Father and wants to be an artist just like him. But when Dad abandons the family, Jasmine is sent to spend the summer with her Uncle on a Pacific Northwest Island. Soon, Jasmine is learning stained glass from island glass artist, Opal, and thinking she might just be developing a crush on Island boy, Cole. But, it’s not until Jasmine finds herself mentoring another young artist that she can truly let go of her Father and call herself an artist by her own terms.

Stained Glass Summer Discussion Guide

“...The author did a great job of making this story relatable, not only to children dealing with the emotions of their parents splitting up, but also to anyone that has dealt with feelings of inadequacy…”-Long and Short Reviews Young Adult

“…Hardwick’s setting on the San Juan Islands of Washington State is rich and authentic. The relationship between Jasmine and little Sammy is heart-warming and revealing….“-Goodreads Review

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Excerpt

The sound of crunching gravel from the driveway startles me. Who is visiting Uncle Jasper this early in the morning? I glance up, expecting to see Opal again, but suck in my breath as long blue-jean legs and a well-toned body wearing a green shirt rides up on a bike with a large wood board attached to the back. He rides slowly, and I think that the board must be heavy on the bike.

I run my hand through my hair and sniff. Is my conditioner still working from my quick shower last night? I can’t smell anything, which might be a good thing; if the conditioner isn’t working, at least I don’t smell like the musty house.

“Is Jasper here?” the boy asks. He leans his bike against the porch railing and sticks hishands in his pockets. The board looks like it’s going to knock the bike over at any minute.

I stare into intense, bright blue eyes with a clear sparkle of light in the center. “In there.” I point toward the house. As he looks inside the screen door, I lick my lips. Why didn’t I think to wear some make-up, like my frosted lipstick? My bare lips taste sour under my tongue, and my early morning breath isn’t much better. I wish I had a mint to shove in my mouth like Mom does every time we go anywhere.

The boy turns around.

And before he stares too long at me or he notices my smelly breath, I stick out my hand. “I’m Jasmine.”

“I know.” The boy moves back and forth on both feet and the tips of his ears turn red. “I’m Cole.”

Cole is Opal’s son.

Opal’s thirteen-year-old son.

Opal’s cute thirteen-year-old son.

I search for resemblances to Opal. There are none as far as I can see. Cole’s face is smooth and round, and there are no signs of blemishes. Instead, there is just a stream of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” Cole stops fidgeting and studies me.

“Nothing.” My face feels warm, and I know I’ve been caught staring at him. “What’s that?” I try to change the subject, pointing toward the large wood board that, now I see, is attached to the back of his bike with a yellow bungee cord. I toss my head and let my hair swirl around my shoulders. Some of it doesn’t swirl and lands on my cheeks. I toss my head again, and pretend like I don’t notice the greasy strands that stuck to my face.

“A project that I’m working on with Jasper,” Cole says.” I have to take it to his wood shed in the back.”

I hold onto the porch railing and slowly move my back against the railing until I rise to a standing position. “I’m very good at lifting things,” I say as a piece of wood finds its way into my hands. “Ouch!” I jerk my hand away from the wood and stand straight up.

“Splinter?” Cole steps forward and onto the porch. He stands next to me, and I smell his spice soap. Holding out my hand, I lean toward Cole, but I keep my mouth firmly shut so he can’t smell my breath. I bet he has a girlfriend. Boys who look and smell like this usually have at least one girl clinging to them.

As if he knows what I’m thinking and smells my breath, Cole leans away and leaves me with my hand outstretched.