Skye Penderwick Quotes

And I don't know if Batty's gotten over it yet,' said Skye. Mr. Penderwick looked out the window to where Batty was playing vampires with Hound. Hound was on his back, trying to wiggle out of the black towel Batty had tied around his neck. Batty was leaping over Hound's water bowl, shrieking, 'Blood, blood!' 'She looks all right,' he said.

Am I odd? Is there something wrong with me, like Mrs. Tifton said?" Skye knelt down on the wet grass and looked straight into Batty's eyes. "No you stupid idiot, there's nothing wrong with you.

Skye, no one except you believes in the possibility of Batty blowing up.

Skye's always saying exactly the wrong thing to people-it wasn't just special for you.

quidquid agas prudenter agas et respice finem...Skye was used to hearing this phrase, which Mr. Penderwick translated loosely as look before you leap and please don't do anything crazy.

Why does everybody think I argue? I never argue." Skye hesitated. "Or at least, I'm not going to argue as much anymore." "That would be a miracle." Skye chose to pretend she hadn't heard.

Skye.” “Lima-Oscar-Victor-Echo

It seemed that the closer the girls got to Mrs. Tifton, the louder Skye squished, like a monster jellyfish with feet.

Holy bananas, said Skye.

Do you think she’ll want to later? Rosalind, I mean, not Aunt Claire. I mean, I’m sure Aunt Claire could do football drills if she wanted to, but I’d rather have Ros—I mean…” Tommy had trailed off into an embarrassed silence. Skye

Aunt Claire, I apologize to you too, since you probably had to pretend you weren't my aunt." "Apology accepted." Aunt Claire smiled, which did much to lighten Skye's heart. "I must say your mad charge at Melissa was impressive. Perhaps you should switch to ice hockey or professional wrestling." "Claire, please be serious," said Mr. Penderwick. "I am being serious.

Batty had been blown up, drowned, smashed on the rocks, or some combination of the three. And it was all Skye’s fault.

Skye rushed off, certain that Hoover had broken Jeffrey’s leg or arm or killed him altogether.

Just in case Skye finished with Birches and attempted to scrub the beach.

That had been two days earlier, and now the remaining Penderwicks—four sisters named Rosalind, Skye, Jane, and Batty—were about to tear apart even more. Early the next morning, three of them would leave for Maine with the sisters’ favorite relative, Aunt Claire, while the fourth headed to New Jersey with her best friend. The girls had never been apart for an entire two weeks, and though all of them were nervous about it, the one going off on her own was the most nervous. This was the oldest, thirteen-year-old Rosalind, and she was having a terrible time accepting that her sisters could survive without her. Right

Jeffrey, Jeffrey, I’m so happy to be with you at last,” said Skye. “Thank you.” Jeffrey turned away to hide his sorrow. “But what is this? Aren’t you glad to see me?” “Of course I am, dear Skye.” He turned back to her, his face ablaze with honesty. “But it is your beautiful and talented sister, Jane, whom I prefer.

CHAPTER ONE A Boy at the Window FOR A LONG TIME AFTER THAT SUMMER, the four Penderwick sisters still talked of Arundel. Fate drove us there, Jane would say. No, it was the greedy landlord who sold our vacation house on Cape Cod, someone else would say, probably Skye. Who knew which was right? But it was true that the beach house they usually rented had been sold at the last minute, and the Penderwicks were suddenly without summer plans. Mr. Penderwick called everywhere, but Cape Cod was booked solid, and his daughters were starting to think they would be spending their whole vacation at home in Cameron, Massachusetts. Not that they didn’t love Cameron, but what is summer without a trip to somewhere special? Then, out of the blue, Mr. Penderwick heard through a friend of a friend about a cottage in the Berkshire Mountains. It had plenty of bedrooms and a big fenced-in pen for a dog—perfect for big, black, clumsy, lovable Hound Penderwick—and it was available to be rented for three weeks in August. Mr. Penderwick snatched it up, sight unseen. He didn’t know what he was getting us into, Batty would say. Rosalind always said, It’s too bad Mommy never saw Arundel—she would have loved the gardens. And Jane would say, There are much better gardens in heaven. And Mommy will never have to bump into Mrs. Tifton in heaven, Skye added to make her sisters laugh. And laugh they would, and the talk would move on to other things, until the next time someone remembered Arundel.

That’s from The Sound of Music,” said Jane, then started to hum along, in yet another key. Batty covered her ears and Jeffrey winced. Skye was less delicate. “Jane, be quiet,” she said, and Jane was. Aunt Claire now moved on to “Do-Re-Mi,” which sounded awful enough to make Hound abandon his exploration of the crutches.

Skye picked her up and tucked her in next to Batty, who now stirred and murmured a few words that sounded like “bee” and “sharp.” This made no sense to Skye—and then she wondered if Rosalind had ever gone around at night listening to her sisters talking in their sleep. How strange. But Skye had nothing to worry about. She was certain that anything she herself said would be more interesting than boys’ names or bees.

No, it was much worse than that. One evening Skye walked into their portion of the screened porch and caught Jane dancing with the Popsicle stick, dancing and humming, and even murmuring to it. Skye heard only one word, which was, naturally, “Dominic.” “What are you doing?” she barked, horrified that a Penderwick would sink so low. Jane dropped the stick and casually covered it with her foot. “Nothing,” she said. “Just dancing.” “Dancing with—” Skye couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

Starr Rescues the Heartbreaker. Chapter One. Sabrina Starr had met him once—this incorrigible heartbreaker—in New York City during her mission to rescue the Chinese ambassador and thus preserve world peace. Nice beginning, right? Skye? Skye, are you awake?

For a long time after that summer, the four Penderwick sisters still talked of Arundel. Fate drove us there, Jane would say. No, it was the greedy landlord who sold our vacation house on Cape Cod, someone else would say, probably Skye.