Maureen Johnson
Maureen Johnson
Maureen Johnsonis an American author of young adult fiction. She has published ten young adult novels to date, including the Shades of London series and the Suite Scarlett series...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth16 February 1973
CityPhiladelphia, PA
CountryUnited States of America
sorry snow over-you
I followed your footsteps," he said, in answer to the unspoken question. "Snow makes it easy." I had been tracked, like a bear. "Sorry to make you go to all that trouble," I said. "I didn't have to go that far, really. You're about three streets over. You just kept going in loops." A really inept bear.
together salt lasts
Salt. Wound. Together at last.
lying boys doors
I could envision it all to clearly: Stuart or Debbie finding the dented door off its hinges, lying in the snow. "She came in, ravaged the boy, stole plastic bags, and ripped off the door in her escape," the police would say in the APB. "Probably making her way to bust her parents out of jail.
children son giving
It was fine," I said stiffly. "We played Mouse Trap." "Is that what they're calling it these days?" she asked, throwing me a terrible grin. "I have to go give Rachel a quick bath. Feel free to make yourself some cocoa or whatever you like!" She stopped short of adding "...future child-bride of my only son.
years filthy five
Were you playing with Stuart?" she asked. The question was loaded. I was a filthy, filthy woman, and even the five-year-old knew it.
light parent normal
We heard her come halfway up the stairs, where she must have seen the bedroom light on. Again, the normal parent reaction would have been to say something like, "You had better come out this moment or I am releasing the tiger!" But Debbie was not a normal parent, so we heard her gigle and creep away, saying, "Shhh! Rachel! Come with Mommy! Stuart is busy!
giving choices doe
We study there a lot because... what other choice does society give us, right? It's Starbucks or death, sometimes.
mother gratitude devotion
A pause while my mother made high-pitched sisterly devotions of gratitude.
cat brooks lecturing
Lecturing Brooks was as useful as lecturing a cat.
moving phones years
It rang and it rand and it rang. I looked at the screen one last time, then at Stuart, and then I reached my arm back and threw the phone as hard as I could (sadly, not that far), and it vanished into the snow. The eight-year-olds, who were truly fascinated with our every move at this point, chased after it. 'Lost it,' I said. 'Whoops.
people creative impossible
People always say they can't do things, that they're impossible. They just haven't been creative enough.
men thinking feet
Do you ever sing in the car?" "Generally not. But I am driving a police car." "I think people would like a singing policeman. Makes life seem more like a musical. Like Foot-tastic." "You can talk for a long time about nothing." "I certainly can, you charming man!
gone jack-the-ripper
Some nutter's gone and pulled a Jack the Ripper.
kissing giving forever
I remember how, at first, I had felt the tension in his lips, as if he was trying to make a barrier between us - then they had relaxed, parted slightly. And that's when I had known he wanted to kiss me, wanted to give in. That little parting of the lips, the little sigh that came out... I would hear that sigh forever. That little, little sound when the whole world seemed to open up.