Forbidden by Tabitha Suzuma (English) Hardcover Book

Description: Forbidden by Tabitha Suzuma Sixteen-year-old Maya and 17-year-old Lochan tell, in their separate voices, of their confusion and longing as they fall in love with one another after years of functioning as parents to three younger siblings due to their alcoholic mothers neglect. FORMAT Hardcover LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Perfect for readers who enjoyed Flowers in the Attic, this is a heartbreaking and shocking novel about siblings Lochan and Maya, their tumultuous home life, and the clandestine, and taboo, relationship they form to get through it. Seventeen-year-old Lochan and sixteen-year-old Maya have always felt more like friends than siblings. Together they have stepped in for their alcoholic, wayward mother to take care of their three younger siblings. As de facto parents to the little ones, Lochan and Maya have had to grow up fast. And the stress of their lives--and the way they understand each other so completely--has also brought them closer than two siblings would ordinarily be. So close, in fact, that they have fallen in love. Their clandestine romance quickly blooms into deep, desperate love. They know their relationship is wrong and cannot possibly continue. And yet, they cannot stop what feels so incredibly right. As the novel careens toward an explosive and shocking finale, only one thing is certain: A love this devastating has no happy ending. Author Biography Tabitha Suzuma is the author of A Note of Madness, A Voice in the Distance, From Where I Stand, Without Looking Back, among others. She used to work as a primary school teacher and now divides her time between writing and tutoring. She lives in London. Visit her at TabithaSuzuma.com. Review "Ms. Suzumas ability to dig so deeply into the various layers of human need and desire across several strata--physical, emotional, situational--renders a cringe-worthy premise another human experience to evaluate. The poignant and shocking ending will leave the reader pondering this story long after the final page is turned." --New York Journal of Books"The novels surprises continue to the very end, and the secondary characters are well developed, including the needy younger siblings, who are shown in all their anger, sweetness, and rebellion. Most of all, though, its Lochans and Mayas alternating first-person, present-tense narratives, both tender and heartbreaking, that will stay with readers." -- Booklist"There is nothing about this novel that is easy, but readers who snag the book for the controversy will stick around for the polished writing and compelling character development." --BCCB Review Quote "There isnothing about this novel that is easy, but readers who snag the book for thecontroversy will stick around for the polished writing and compelling characterdevelopment." -- BCCB Excerpt from Book Forbidden CHAPTER ONE Lochan I gaze at the small, crisp, burned-out black husks scattered across the chipped white paint of the windowsills. It is hard to believe that they were ever alive. I wonder what it would be like to be shut up in this airless glass box, slowly baked for two long months by the relentless sun, able to see the outdoors--the wind shaking the green trees right there in front of you--hurling yourself again and again at the invisible wall that seals you off from everything that is real and alive and necessary, until eventually you succumb: scorched, exhausted, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the task. At what point does a fly give up trying to escape through a closed window--do its survival instincts keep it going until it is physically capable of no more, or does it eventually learn after one crash too many that there is no way out? At what point do you decide that enough is enough? I turn my eyes away from the tiny carcasses and try to focus on the mass of quadratic equations on the board. A thin film of sweat coats my skin, trapping wisps of hair against my forehead, clinging to my school shirt. The sun has been pouring through the industrial-size windows all afternoon and I am foolishly sitting in full glare, half blinded by the powerful rays. The ridge of the plastic chair digs painfully into my back as I sit semi-reclined, one leg stretched out, heel propped up against the low radiator along the wall. My shirt cuffs hang loose around my wrists, stained with ink and grime. The empty page stares up at me, painfully white, as I work out equations in lethargic, barely legible handwriting. The pen slips and slides in my clammy fingers. I peel my tongue off my palate and try to swallow; I cant. I have been sitting like this for the best part of an hour, but I know that trying to find a more comfortable position is useless. I linger over the sums, tilting the nib of my pen so that it catches on the paper and makes a faint scratching sound--if I finish too soon, I will have nothing to do but look at dead flies again. My head hurts. The air stands heavy, pregnant with the perspiration of thirty-two teenagers crammed into an overheated classroom. There is a weight on my chest that makes it difficult to breathe. It is far more than this arid room, this stale air. The weight descended on Tuesday, the moment I stepped through the school gates, back to face another school year. The week has not yet ended and already I feel as if I have been here for all eternity. Between these school walls, time flows like cement. Nothing has changed. The people are still the same: vacuous faces, contemptuous smiles. My eyes slide past theirs as I enter the classrooms and they gaze past me, through me. I am here but not here. The teachers tick me off in the register but no one sees me, for I have long perfected the art of being invisible. There is a new English teacher--Miss Azley. Some bright young thing from Down Under: huge frizzy hair held back by a rainbow-colored head scarf, tanned skin, and massive gold hoops in her ears. She looks alarmingly out of place in a school full of tired middle-aged teachers, faces etched with lines of bitterness and disappointment. No doubt once, like this plump, chirpy Aussie, they entered the profession full of hope and vigor, determined to make a difference, to heed Gandhi and be the change they wanted to see in the world. Now, after decades of policies, intraschool red tape, and crowd control, most have given up and are awaiting early retirement, custard creams and tea in the staff room the highlight of their day. But the new teacher hasnt had the benefit of time. In fact, she doesnt look much older than some of the pupils in the room. A bunch of guys erupt into a cacophony of wolf whistles until she swings round to face them, disdainfully staring them down so that they start to look uncomfortable and glance away. Nonetheless, a stampede ensues when she commands everyone to arrange the desks in a semicircle, and with all the jostling, play fighting, desk slamming, and chair sliding, she is lucky nobody gets injured. Despite the mayhem, Miss Azley appears unperturbed--when everyone finally settles down, she gazes around the scraggly circle and beams. "Thats better. Now I can see you all properly and you can all see me. Ill expect you to have the classroom set up before I arrive in the future, and dont forget that all the desks need to be returned to their places at the end of the lesson. Anyone caught leaving before having done his or her bit will take sole responsibility for the furniture arrangements for a week. Do I make myself clear?" Her voice is firm but there appears to be no malice. Her grin suggests she might even have a sense of humor. The grumbles and complaints from the usual troublemakers are surprisingly muted. She then announces that we are going to take turns introducing ourselves. After expounding on her love of travel, her new dog, and her previous career in advertising, she turns to the girl on her right. Surreptitiously I slide my watch round to the inside of my wrist and train my eyes on the seconds flashing past. All day I have been waiting for this--final period--and now that it is here I can hardly bear it. All day Ive been counting down the hours, the lessons, until this one. Now all thats left is the minutes, yet they seem interminable. I am doing sums in my head, calculating the number of seconds before the last bell. With a start I realize that Rafi, the dickhead to my left, is blabbering on about astrology again--almost all the kids in the room have had their turn now. When Rafi finally shuts up about stellar constellations, there is sudden silence. I look up to find Miss Azley staring directly at me. "Pass." I examine my thumbnail and automatically mumble my usual response without looking up. But to my horror, she doesnt take the hint. Has she not read my file? She is still looking at me. "Few activities in my lessons are optional, Im afraid," she informs me. There are sniggers from Jeds group. "Well be here all day, then." "Didnt anyone tell you? He dont speak English--" "Or any other language." Laughter. "Martian, maybe!" The teacher silences them with a look. "Im afraid thats not how things work in my lessons." Another long silence follows. I fiddle with the corner of my notepad, the eyes of the class scorching my face. The steady tick of the wall clock is drowned out by the pounding of my heart. "Why dont you start off by telling me your name?" Her voice has softened slightly. It takes me a moment to figure out why. Then I realize that my left hand has stopped fiddling with the notepad and is now vibrating against the empty page. I hurriedly slide my hand beneath the desk, mumble my name, and glance meaningfully at my neighbor. He launches eagerly into his monologue without giving the teacher time to protest, but I can see she has backed down. She knows now. The pain in my chest fades to a dull ache and my burning cheeks cool. The rest of the hour is taken up with a lively debate about the merits of studying Shakespeare. Miss Azley does not invite me to participate again. When the last bell finally shrieks its way through the building, the class dissolves into chaos. I slam my textbook shut, stuff it into my bag, get up, and exit the room rapidly, diving into the home-time fray. All along the main corridor overexcited pupils are streaming out of doors to join the thick current of people; I am bumped and buffeted by shoulders, elbows, bags, feet. . . . I make it down one staircase, then the next, and am almost across the main hall before I feel a hand on my arm. "Whitely. A word." Freeland, my form tutor. I feel my lungs deflate. The silver-haired teacher with the hollow, lined face leads me into an empty classroom, indicates a seat, then perches awkwardly on the corner of a wooden desk. "Lochan, as Im sure you are aware, this is a particularly important year for you." The A-level lecture again. I give a slight nod, forcing myself to meet my tutors gaze. "Its also the start of a new academic year!" Freeland announces brightly, as if I needed reminding of that fact. "New beginnings. A fresh start . . . Lochan, we know you dont always find things easy, but were hoping for great things from you this term. Youve always excelled in written work, and thats wonderful, but now that youre in your final year, we expect you to show us what youre capable of in other areas." Another nod. An involuntary glance toward the door. Im not sure I like where this conversation is heading. Mr. Freeland gives a heavy sigh. "Lochan, if you want to get into UCL, you know its vital you start taking a more active role in class. . . ." I nod again. "Do you understand what Im saying here?" I clear my throat. "Yes." "Class participation. Joining in group discussions. Contributing to the lessons. Actually replying when asked a question. Putting your hand up once in a while. Thats all we ask. Your grades have always been impeccable. No complaints there." Silence. My head is hurting again. How much longer is this going to take? "You seem distracted. Are you taking in what Im saying?" "Yes." "Good. Look, you have gre Details ISBN1442419954 Author Tabitha Suzuma Short Title FORBIDDEN Language English ISBN-10 1442419954 ISBN-13 9781442419957 Media Book Format Hardcover Audience Age 15-17 DEWEY FIC Birth 1975 Year 2011 Publication Date 2011-06-28 Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2011-06-28 NZ Release Date 2011-06-28 US Release Date 2011-06-28 UK Release Date 2011-06-28 Pages 464 Publisher Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers Imprint Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers Audience Teenage / Young adult We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:137699889;

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