Readers rejoice—Primrose Squarp is back! The wise and curious heroine of the Newbery Honor Book Everything on a Waffle is facing another adventure-filled year in Coal Harbor. Even though her parents, once lost at sea, are home, there’s a whole slew of problems and mysteries to keep Primrose—and eager fans—busy. There’s Uncle Jack and Kate Bowzer, who may (or may not) be in love. There’s Ked, a foster child who becomes Primrose’s friend. And there’s the new development on the outskirts of town that threatens the Coal Harbor Primrose knows and treasures. From National Book Award–winning author Polly Horvath comes a masterful sequel to a beloved novel, sure to please old fans and gain new ones.   A perfect charmer…. Hilarious and touching.” — The Boston Globe   “Nobody does middle grade like Horvath.” — The Horn Book Magazine A Boston Globe Best Children's Book of 2012 School Library Journal Best of Children's Books 2012 Starred Review, Publishers Weekly , August 20, 2012: “…Horvath skillfully balances the story’s light and dark moments, leaving readers with an ending both satisfying and honest.” Starred Review, Kirkus Reviews , August 1, 2012: “…the author delivers a gothic tragicomedy that is both a worthy sequel and as able as Primrose to stand on its own.” Starred Review, School Library Jounral , August 1, 2012: “Excellent fun surrounds nuggets of wisdom, making for a great read or read-aloud to be enjoyed on multiple levels” POLLY HORVATH is one of the most highly acclaimed authors writing today. Her books include The Canning Season (National Book Award winner and a YA Canadian Book of the Year), Everything on a Waffle (Newbery Honor Book), The Trolls (National Book Award finalist), My One Hundred Adventures (a School Library Journal Best Book of the Year, a Booklist Editors' Choice, and a Kirkus Reviews Best Children's Book of the Year), and Northward to the Moon (an Oprah's Book Club Kid's Reading List selection). Her most recent books are Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! and Lord and Lady Bunny—Almost Royalty! What Happened to Quincehead I was sitting with Bert and Evie. Evie had their cockapoo, Quincehead, on her lap and was staring into space. Bert was absently patting Quincehead on the head and rhythmically stroking his back while he told me what had happened. “This morning when we woke up Quincehead’s stomach was huge. Bloated.” “Too big,” said Evie. “Not normal big,” said Bert. “Because sometimes when they eat too much, it gets big,” said Evie. “You can tell easier with little dogs like Quincehead.” “It shows more.” “The big dogs don’t show so much.” “Not that we ever had a big dog.” “ ’Cause we haven’t.” “I prefer a dog that can sit in my lap.” “We always get Evie lapdogs.” “So,” they said together as if this were a logical pausing place in their narrative. I waited patiently. They were looking out the window at the storm with unseeing eyes. The rain poured down and the wind howled. It was probably the last real winter blow. The storm had started that morning. We had been able to hear the surf even in our classes at school, pounding the shore, flinging spray. I had been sitting in class thinking that when the earth shakes like this, what you need is some solid ground beneath your feet, such as the bedrock of multiplication, where if you multiply correctly, you always get the same sum. But one look outside tells you how it is all just an invention in the end. What do we really know? Everything we know is just something someone made up. I like to cook, and you would think one of cooking’s reassuring aspects would be that if you make the same recipe the same way, it always comes out the same. This would be a nice antidote to random events if what you always wanted was a peach melba. But anyone who cooks a lot can tell you that it is hogwash. You can make the same recipe the same way a dozen times and each time it comes out differently. There are whole days when everything you cook comes out terribly and others when you can do no wrong. So many factors you will never be aware of are involved. Anyone who thinks they’ve got it all scoped out is in for a few surprises. I’d nudged Eleanor, who sits next to me, and continued this thought out loud. “So if you’re going to make something up, you might as well make sure it is something good. Just like if you don’t know what is going to happen and have to assume, you might as well assume something good.” She’d looked at me blankly. She hates it when I nudge and whisper during class, even though our teacher, Miss Connon, is extremely tolerant. Miss Connon doesn’t mind the odd communication while she’s talking, and she reads us essays by people like Walt Whitman and Mary Oliver because she credits us all with at least as much intelligence as we have. I could see Eleanor turning to look out the window and her brow furrowing again as she thought about what I’d said. I know mine is just one wa