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Top Grade: High School Selections, Fall 2019
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Top Grade: High School Selections, Fall 2019

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Top Grade: CanLit for the Classroom highlights the best of Canadian literature for teens.
I Am a Feminist

I Am a Feminist

Claiming the F-Word in Turbulent Times
edition:eBook
also available: Paperback

What is feminism? Why does it still matter? What exactly does intersectionality mean? In order to answer these (and many other) questions, I Am a Feminist first examines the history of feminism and then addresses the issues girls and women continue to face today. The book also looks at the ways in which people, especially young people, are working together to create a world where gender equality is a reality, not a dream. The author shares stories about the courageous individuals who have made a …

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Just Lucky

Just Lucky

edition:Paperback
also available: eBook

Lucky loves her grandparents, and they are all the family she really has. True, her grandma forgets things…like turning off the stove, or Lucky’s name. But her grandpa takes such good care of them that Lucky doesn’t realize how bad things are. That is until he’s gone. When her grandma accidentally sets the kitchen on fire, Lucky can’t hide what’s happening any longer, and she is sent into foster care. She quickly learns that some foster families are okay. Some aren’t. And some real …

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The Stone Rainbow

The Stone Rainbow

edition:Paperback
also available: eBook
tagged : lgbt, bullying

Jack Pedersen is finding life complicated ever since he came out to his mom. Even though she’s been doing her best to understand, it’s obvious to Jack that his mom still wants to cry every time she says the word gay.  
Complications go into overdrive when a new student named Benjamin arrives at his high school, and Jack starts experiencing feelings he’s never allowed himself before. When a near tragedy turns life upside down, Jack realizes that it’s time to stop hiding and to stand up …

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Safe Harbour

Safe Harbour

edition:eBook
also available: Paperback

As crazy as her father’s plan sounds, sticking to it is easy for Harbour — until it isn’t.

Fourteen-year-old Harbour is living in a tent in a Toronto ravine with her dog, a two-month supply of canned tuna, and an eccentric reading list. She’s not homeless, she tells herself. She’s merely waiting for her home — a thirty-six-foot sailboat — to arrive with her father at the helm. Why should she worry when the clouds give her signs that assure her that she’s safe and protected?

When h …

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

Most people think cumulus nimbus are the best cloud-watching clouds, but Dad and I prefer cirrus spissatus. If you ask me, the whole cumulus family of clouds is too obvious. It’s like they shout danger when anyone can tell they mean trouble at first glance.

But cirrus spissatus clouds are hypnotic. They promise mystery and hope: a thin veil between earth and heaven that might dissolve at any moment. We most often see Mom in the long, thin cover of the cirrus spissatus clouds. We seek her out every day, unless it’s cloudless, of course, which means she’s giving us the all clear. It’s like a contest to see who can find her first. Maybe her face is our good luck charm or the act of looking is our prayer for the coming day.

When I was little Dad used to beat me to her, but now I find her first. When I do, when I point her out in some distant cloud formation, he sighs and, with a dreamy distant look in his eyes, says: “She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

And not until then, not until one of us sees her face in the clouds, do we start our day.

I lie back in the sun with my hands behind my head and scan the sky above me while Tuff dozes in a patch of dappled sunlight farther up the slope. The leaves overhead sift the sunlight across his body in a trembling pattern. His legs jerk slightly and I wonder if he’s chasing a dream squirrel or a rabbit or maybe a raccoon. There’re so many critters to chase and new places to explore in the ravine, I don’t think he misses the boat at all. But I do. I miss the slap of the waves on the hull and rocking in a half-doze on the glinting sea. I miss Dad, too. But never mind.

I slip the last soda cracker into my mouth and chase it with a mouthful of water from the Tropicana jug. Then I empty crumbs from the plastic sleeve into the palm of my hand and eat those, too. I expect the rustling to wake up Tuff, but he’s oblivious to me, whining in his sleep.

When I finish scouring the northern horizon, my eyes drift east. I split the sky into quadrants and search for her that way. North, east, west, and last of all, south. Dad prefers to let his eyes wander across the sky randomly, following her clues from thought to thought. But my way’s faster.

“There she is, Tuff.” I point out her face near the edge of the eastern horizon, beyond the overpass. “She’s smiling today and her hair is streaming in the wind. She sure looks beautiful.” I say it for Dad and then stand up.

Finally Tuff raises his head and assesses me from his patch of sunshine and green grass.

“Well, c’mon. Up you get. We can’t lie around here all day. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Tuff devours a bowl of kibble while I pack the tent and zip it closed. Then I pull the branches over the front door until it’s completely hidden. It would take a psychic, or maybe a U.S. Marine, to find our campsite.

I pat my front pocket for my phone and charger. Then check for the lump in my back pocket, which is a small fold of twenty-dollar bills and the credit card.

“Everything’s in order. Let’s go!”

Tuff follows me out to the trail and up the side of the ravine, sniffing at every stalk of grass and tree trunk like he’s met them all before and has to say hello to a long-lost friend.

“Don’t get too used to living on land.”

He tilts his head and barks once.

“Of course, I’ll always take you for walks so you can chase squirrels.”

As if to demonstrate his joy, Tuff races up the side of the ravine and stops at the base of a stately maple tree. He stares into the branches and dances around the trunk, trying to get a sightline on whatever he chased up there. When I get too far ahead, he abandons the tree and runs to catch up.

It’s a glorious summer day. The sun is warm and bright without making the day oppressively hot. It’s the air quality in Toronto that surprises me most. Even though it’s July, the clarity of the air makes me feel optimistic and it’s easy to breathe. It’s never like that in the Keys, or even farther north in Tampa. No, the air in Florida is thick and heavy, and you can’t ever forget that you need your lungs to survive. The summer air in Miami could sear your throat if you inhaled too deep.

When we get to the cemetery, I clip the leash onto Tuff ’s collar and head toward Bloor Street. I haven’t been in Toronto long, but I already know the major intersections and basic landmarks downtown. I know the names of some of the neighbourhoods and can find my way to a few places.

There are even a couple of people I see day after day. Like the girl who sits on a square of cardboard near the intersection of Yonge and Bloor, her legs folded like a pretzel and her back as straight as the wall she melts into. She sits on the same block, though not always in the exact same place. Today she’s on the northeast corner. As I turn onto Yonge Street, I look at her and nod. Tuff sniffs at her cup of change and I tug lightly on his leash.

“It’s okay. He’s cute,” she says and reaches out to ruffle the fur behind his ears. I let Tuff introduce himself.

“Sorry. I don’t have any change,” I say apologetically.

“No worries. I’m happy meeting your dog. What’s his name?”

“Tuff Stuff.”

She wrinkles up her nose. “What sort of name is that?”

“My mom named him when he was a puppy because he was always trying to show the bigger dogs that he was boss.”

“Is he?” She leans close and wraps her arms around Tuff ’s neck. He sits down, happy to be adored by a pretty girl. And she is pretty, despite the layers of dark clothing hiding her petite frame and the rings of black eyeliner that make her look like she’s scowling. It’s obvious she wants people to think she’s badass, even though I can tell she isn’t. Not even her black dreads or eyebrow rings can camouflage her perfect smile.

“Is he what? Tough?”

“Yeah, and the boss?”

“Not really. He’s a pushover.”

The girl unknots her legs and stands up. She reaches out her hand. “Lise Roberts,” she says.

I hesitate and Lise chuckles.

“It’s okay. I don’t bite and I wash every day. With soap.”

A hot blush washes over my cheeks and I take her hand.

“Harbour Mandrayke. Nice to meet you.”

“You should stop and talk sometime, when you have a few minutes,” Lise suggests. “I think Tuff would like it.”

Tuff leans against her leg with a hopeful expression and points his muzzle up at her like a wolf getting ready to howl at the moon.

“I will,” I say and pull Tuff down the street after me.

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Girls Like Me

Girls Like Me

edition:eBook
also available: Paperback

After accepting a ride home, sixteen-year-old Emma Kennedy is raped by a boy from school. But handsome, popular Ross Schroeder tells everyone the sex was consensual, and Emma is immediately branded as a slut. Even Emma's best friend, Jen, doesn't believe Emma's version of events. In fact, she is angry with Emma because she feels betrayed. After all, she liked Ross first.

But when Ross starts showing interest in Jen, Emma knows she will have to find a way to get Jen to believe that she really …

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The World on Either Side

The World on Either Side

edition:eBook
also available: Paperback

After the death of her boyfriend, sixteen-year old Valentine stops going to school, quits seeing her friends and, finally, won’t leave her bed. Desperate for her daughter to recover, Valentine’s mother takes her on a trek in Thailand. In the mountains north of Chiang Mai, Valentine finds a world she didn’t know existed, where houses are on stilts and elephants still roam wild. She learns about the Burmese civil war and the relentless violence against the Karen and Rohingya peoples. 
Then …

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Damage Done by the Storm

Damage Done by the Storm

edition:Paperback
also available: Paperback

Jack Hodgins' acclaimed short story collection now appears in a new edition, along with a new Hodgins story never before published. The collection as a whole immerses us in the lives of characters at once larger than life and intimately familiar. In the title story, a retired Senator fights his way through a major Ottawa snowstorm to keep a family promise. An orthotics sculptor falls in love with the plaster feet of one of his distant patients. On a tour of Mississippi, a Faulkner scholar and he …

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Hutchison Street

Hutchison Street

edition:Paperback

With one side in Mile End and the other in Outremont, Hutchison Street is inhabited by characters from many different backgrounds, including a community of Hasidim and a writer whose newest project is a novel about the people she has lived among for thirty-nine years. She traces the life stories of an aging singer, a bag-lady who feeds birds in a back alley, an Italian widow who grows tomatoes in her front yard, a Jamaican woman who longs to dance the night away, and a young Hasidic girl who kee …

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