Megan Crewe

Book Title: Give Up The Ghost
Publication Date: September 15, 2009
Publisher: Henry Holt Books for Young Readers
ISBN: 978-0-8050-8930-1
Author's Website: http://www.megancrewe.com

Description of Book:

Cass McKenna much prefers the company of ghosts to that of the living. Who needs lying, backstabbing, breathing friends when ghosts are uncomplicated and completely dependable? Plus, the dead know the dirt on just about everybody... and Cass loves dirt.

She’s on a mission to expose the dirty little secrets of all of the poseurs in her school (everyone, in her mind). But when the vice president of the student council finds out her secret, Cass’s whole scheme hangs in the balance. Tim wants her help contacting his recently deceased mother, and Cass is less than enthusiastic. But Tim’s pleas seem genuine, and Cass reluctantly agrees to try.

As Tim’s desperation to talk to his mother’s spirit grows, Cass, kicking and screaming, finds herself becoming more and more entwined in his life. And she’s more surprised than anyone when she realizes that maybe, just maybe, some living people aren’t so bad if she’d only give them a chance...

About the Author:

Like many fiction authors, Megan Crewe finds writing about herself much more difficult than making things up.  A few definite facts: she lives in Toronto, Canada with her husband and two cats (and does on occasion say "eh"), she tutors children and teens with special needs, and she has yet to make friends with a ghost, though she welcomes the opportunity. 

Excerpt:

You would think it'd be easier to get along with a person after she's dead.  Not Paige.  She took her big sister duties very seriously.  It'd been four years since she drowned, and she still got on my case.

"You're not really wearing those to school," she said, perched in the air just above the wrought-iron headboard of my bed, her ankles crossed and tipped to the side.  It was the way she used to sit at the dinner table, back when--pretending to be hooked on Dad's every word while her mind wandered off to choicer topics.  Except these days she did it without a chair.

"What’s wrong with them?" I asked, zipping up my jeans.  She was wearing jeans, too.  Of course, her jeans were tight, low cut capris.  Mine were big and baggy.  I'd stepped on the hems so many times they were as thready as my violet carpet, but hey, they were comfortable.

Paige wrinkled her pert nose and shook her head.  Very few things got her as worked up as my untapped fashion potential.  Most of the time she had this faded tissue-paper look, so filmy I could see right through her.  Get her interested, though, and she brightened up like a Chinese lantern.  Right then, she was beaming from her bleached-blonde hair to her strappy sandals.

A few years ago it would have pissed me off.  These days, I was used to it.  It was like a game: how bossy could she get, how bratty could I get.  Playing at being normal.