About the Author

Vikki VanSickle

 

Vikki VanSickle
écrit des livres et des pièces de théâtre pour les enfants. Elle est
diplômée de théâtre de l'Université de Queens, et de littérature pour
enfants de l'Université de Colombie-Britannique. Elle possède une solide
expérience dans le domaine des camps de vacances : elle travaille dans les
camps organisés par le théâtre local, mais aussi comme conseillère et
directrice d'activités au Camp Rimp Rock de Virginie Occidentale. Elle a
participé à plusieurs comédies musicales, et elle a dirigé, en 2005, la
production de Crazy for You. Ses écrits ont été publiés dans
Chameleon, un magazine pour enfants.

 

VIKKI VANSICKLE is the author of Words That Start With B, Love Is a Four-Letter Word, Days That End in Y and Summer Days, Starry Nights, which was nominated for a Red Maple Award. She is an active member of the children's literature community, presenting at academic conferences, reviewing books, and managing her popular children's lit blog. Currently, she splits her time between writing and working in marketing and publicity. Vikki lives in Toronto, Ontario. Visit her online at www.vikkivansickle.wordpress.com.

Books by this Author
Days That End in Y

Days That End in Y

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also available: Paperback
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Summer Days, Starry Nights
Excerpt

From Summer Days, Starry Nights:

The songs were catchy, and I recognized most of them, thanks to Gwen's musical education. All around me people were nodding and singing along. I watched them just as much as I watched the band, fascinated by their reaction. A group of girls clutched each other off to the side, gazing so longingly at the musicians that I felt embarrassed for them. One of them appeared to be sobbing into her friend's shoulder. Between songs, people clapped and cheered and called out requests. Paul taunted them, pretending not to hear, or making fun of their song choices, but in the end he always relented. A few times I looked over and caught Ray looking at me. I blushed and looked away, pretending not to notice. But inside my chest, my heart was off to the races. I had never had a boy look at me like that, and a cute boy to boot. The crowd was so close that sometimes, as we swayed, shifting to the music, our arms touched. By the end of the performance, I was hoarse from cheering and the back of my neck was damp with sweat. I was breathing hard, as if I had been running around on stage, but I felt like I could keep going all night. People begged and pleaded for more, and I joined in their chorus, but Paul dropped to the ground and played dead, not even moving when some joker pretended to kick him in the ribs. Ray touched my shoulder and leaned down, speaking directly into my ear, "I'm going to go check on my rock stars. Don't go anywhere."

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