Greetings from Witness Protection!

By Jake Burt

Nicki Demere is an orphan and a pickpocket. She also happens to be the U.S. Marshals’ best bet to keep a family alive. . . .

The marshals are looking for the perfect girl to join a mother, father, and son on the run from the nation’s most notorious criminals. After all, the bad guys are searching for a family with one kid, not two, and adding a streetwise girl who knows a little something about hiding things may be just what the marshals need.

Nicki swears she can keep the Trevor family safe, but to do so she’ll have to dodge hitmen, cyberbullies, and the specter of standardized testing, all while maintaining her marshal-mandated B-minus average. As she barely balances the responsibilities of her new identity, Nicki learns that the biggest threats to her family’s security might not lurk on the road from New York to North Carolina, but rather in her own past.

Jake Burt's debut middle-grade novel Greetings from Witness Protection! is as funny as it is poignant.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Oct 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781250107107

Jake Burt

Jake Burt is the author of the middle-grade novels Greetings from Witness Protection!, an Indie Next selection, The Right Hook of Devin Velma, a Junior Library Guild selection, and The Tornado, which School Library Journal called "one of the best stories about bullying for middle grades,” in a starred review. His novel Cleo Porter and the Body Electric was praised as a "thrilling sci-fi adventure" by #1 New York Times bestselling author Alan Gratz. Jake Burt teaches fifth grade, and lives in Hamden, CT, with his wife and their daughter.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Kind of Home

I’m working on making a world. I’ve got the mountains and valleys, an ocean, and continents. It’s a slow process, though, since I use only my hands. Well, my hands and a couple of tennis balls.

As I work, pieces of plaster rain on me, but I don’t care. I’m digging my trenches just a little deeper, carving my roads a little farther, and when I manage to break off a bigger chunk, I get new lakes and hills. Each time, I name them—Lake Nickisia. Mount Andew. The Trenchbull. There’s something calming about the thwackathwackathwacka of the balls off the ceiling, the dance my hands do as I throw faster and faster, until I can’t hardly see my fingers anymore. Fast hands. I’ve always had fast hands.

God, Nicki … slow down! How am I supposed to do that? I can’t even keep the ball going. You’re doing two at once!

I catch both and glance apologetically at Emmy.

Takes time and practice, I offer. You’ll get there.

I’ll get fostered again before I get there, Nicki. And I just got my own top bunk, too!

Stay here as long as I have, and it’ll be no sweat.

I … I’m sorry, Nicki. I didn’t mean it like that.…

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I drop down to the concrete. My toes instantly seek my slippers, and I cram my feet in as quickly as possible. Mid-October and it’s already thirty degrees outside, every bit of that cold happily taking up residence in our floor. Tossing an afghan around my shoulders for good measure, I sidle up to Emmy’s bed.

No worries. I was joking, Emmy.

I wasn’t. I stink at this.

Not as bad as I stink at sticking.

Sticking—that’s what we call it. The lucky kids stick to their foster families. I seem to be covered in nail polish remover or something. I’ve been with five—count ’em, five—families in five years since Grammy died, and I’ve spent as much time in the Center as I have in homes. It’s not like I have any major horror stories to tell—nobody hit me, or starved me, or touched me. Sometimes things don’t work out, and things just didn’t work out for me. A couple of those did involve legal issues on my end, but the others? Finances, leases running out—heck, one of my families got deported two weeks after I moved in.

They were all nice enough. I just didn’t stick.

Emmy finally tosses the tennis ball away and curls around her Minnie Mouse pillow.

You going to the art course with me this morning? she mumbles into Minnie’s ear.

If I can finish unpacking, yep. Wainwright’s been bugging me about it. Two weeks back and I haven’t emptied my suitcase yet. Wishful thinking, I guess.

I know! You haven’t even taken out Fancypaws!

That’d be Ms. Fancypaws McKittenfluff, my sole remaining stuffed animal from a childhood menagerie. My grammy bought me many more—Doggy the Dog, Findango, Corduroy-If-You-Please, and Sullen Moomelstein, to name a few. I can still remember Wainwright explaining to nine-year-old me that they’d gone to foster care, too. I liked imagining them finding new families and kids to play with. Of course, that was before I knew about Goodwill.

I guess she just got comfortable in there, I muse. Can’t say I blame her.

A suitcase is no kind of home for a lady! Emmy exclaims, fanning herself like a southern belle. With her blond curls and tiny mouth, she actually looks the part.

It might be if the lady is missing her left ear and has cotton leaking out of her armpits, I reply. It’s true. Two and a half feet of well-loved and clumpy-haired stuffitude, Fancypaws is a few years removed from her debutante days. I shuffle over to the suitcase and gently extract her from the jumble of jeans, socks, books, and bracelets. My fingertips automatically find the velveteen patch of her belly and worry at it, carefully avoiding the holes and little rips. I remind myself to check out a book on sewing and fabric repair—Fancypaws is long overdue for a makeover, especially now that she’s retired from the thieving business.

Emmy asks me if I want to get breakfast, but I’m not even dressed yet, so I let her go ahead. I clear a bit of space in the middle of my blankets for Fancypaws and nestle her in there, then slipper-slide my way across the concrete to my little closet. The chill in the air says sweaters and jackets, though for some reason the tights, long black skirt with the sequined hem, and a white T-shirt are whispering to me. I throw on a hoodie with big pockets and my grammy’s Swarovski crystal earrings for good measure, then scoot out to breakfast.

All the rooms in the Center are off one long hallway. Wainwright has it set up so that the entire space reads like a timeline of kids’ lives. At our end, where the boys’ and girls’ rooms are, the walls are plastered with pictures of families. Most of them are from the 1980s, when the Center opened. Beneath each picture is a little brass plate that says the family’s name, the kid’s name, and when she or he was adopted. Down the hall, the pictures get newer and newer. The best part is looking at how stuff like clothes and haircuts has changed. You know those fringed lizards that pop out their neck skin like a gigantic umbrella to frighten predators? That’s like the girls’ hair in the ’80s. I’m not sure who they were trying to scare, but I’m betting it worked.

As the hallway goes on, the hair gets better. Toward the end, near the kitchen and the art room, are the newest pictures. Mine’s not up there, since I haven’t stuck. Wainwright never lets us see the moment she takes our pictures down when we come back, but I’ve heard her sniffling in the bathroom after she does it. I think it hurts her almost as much as it does us.

I pass by thirty years of bobs, bowl cuts, and bangs on my way to grab a bagel, and it’s just as I’m turning around, bagel in my mouth and a milk carton in either hand, that I spot the guy. Or rather, The Guy. I murmur a Whoa right past the pumpernickel between my teeth. The Guy is one of those who goes about six-foot-six, but seems ten feet. You could fit four kids, comfortably seated, across his shoulders and balance a cafeteria tray perfectly atop his crew cut. He spots me and reaches up to slide his sunglasses a centimeter down his big, oxygen-vacuum of a nose so he can size me up. It takes him all of a second.

He makes me nervous. He’s wearing a black short-sleeved polo shirt despite the cold, and it’s got a star, like a sheriff’s badge, sewn into it. Black belt, black pants, black shoes. Looks all uniformy. What’s more, hooked to his belt is a holster. Conspicuously jutting from the leather is a blocky plastic handle, as yellow-and-black as the business end of a hornet. It’s smaller than a gun, but still big enough that I can read the word Taser along the side. All people in uniforms make me twitchy, but especially armed ones, and my fingers get to tapping on my milk cartons, my toes curling in my slippers. Yeah, I know I haven’t done anything wrong recently, but I’m still feeling the urge well up in me. It’s a kind of tightness, crouched behind my heart, above my intestines, and in my sinuses, all at the same time. Once my left thumb starts to waggle, I know I’ve got to get out of there. So, speeding up, I round the corner and duck into the art room.

The art room is tiny, with just a table and four chairs. Still, there’s a lot of color there—it’s wallpapered in waxy, curling drawings made by kids over the years. Mr. Jordanson doesn’t throw away anything. Even if it’s a three-year-old’s scribble-scrabble, he’s taping it to the wall. We like Mr. Jordanson because he makes us feel like Rembrandts. Seeing him and Emmy calms me a little, but I still can’t stop thinking about The Guy out there. He wasn’t a prospective parent, for sure. I set my bagel and milk down and hide my hands behind me.

Oh no… Emmy whispers. She’s the only one who ever notices when I’m twitching.

I’ll be all right, I mutter.

’Kay, she says, offering me a sympathetic smile—and something else. She’s midway through a tree, and she’s probably going to need her lime-green crayon again in a second, but she’s positioned it at the edge of the table, just behind her elbow. She turns away from me for a minute, pretending to listen to what Mr. Jordanson is explaining to Halla, the Center’s newest arrival and resident baseball expert.

Emmy’s a good friend.… The crayon is gone before anyone notices, and I’m holding it in my big old pocket, left thumb rubbing at the tip, which is still warm from her vigorous shading. I’m not shaking anymore, and I can breathe again.

Here, Emmy … you dropped your crayon, I whisper, and she takes it back, thanking me. Have I mentioned how awesome Emmy is yet? Now that the urge has passed, it’s no sweat to grab the chair across from Halla and settle in.

Need a sheet of paper, Nicki? We’re doing fantasy gardens, Mr. Jordanson announces, and he points to Halla’s work. Halla has drawn trees coming from the ceiling, a baseball bat growing out of a pot, and some sort of viney monstrosity. Art class is a joke. We basically think of something to draw as a group, then tackle it. It’s silly, but it passes the time, and we get to chat for a while. Right now, that’s exactly what we need to do.

So, I offer casually, anyone catch that big guy out in the hallway? He looks like a Green Beret or something.

I saw him! Emmy blurts. I bet he’s on steroids!

Alex Rodriguez did steroids! Halla adds.

Yep, this is usually how our conversations go.

Let’s change the subject, guys, Mr. Jordanson suggests, and he tries to talk to Halla about stippling.

I scoot closer to Emmy and whisper, "So you did see him? What do you think?"

Can’t be here to foster. Did you do something?

No, did you?

No…

What was he doing outside the transition room, then?

Not sure. Maybe he’s a health inspector?

Does he break your knees if you aren’t up to code?

Ahem! Mr. Jordanson huffs, glaring at us. He goes right on glaring at us, even after the second look up. That’s how you know a teacher means business. When one tells you to be quiet, you wait thirty-five seconds, then look up. If the teacher isn’t watching anymore, you can start whispering again. If he’s still staring at you, you best zip it.

Humbled, I bite my lower lip and give Emmy one more glance, just in time to see her stick her tongue out at me. I try to suppress a giggle, but it comes out all snorty, and Emmy starts snickering. Halla joins in, and we’re a mess. Even Mr. Jordanson can’t stop us at that moment.

But Wainwright can.

She opens the door, then knocks on it in the way grown-ups do—the old "Hey, I’m barging in, you can’t get me to go away, but it’s okay, because see? I knocked!"

Emmy and I both stiffen. Wainwright doesn’t usually interrupt classes, and her face seems drawn tight, even her wrinkly forehead.

Wonderful news, she says softly. Nicki, dear, there are people here to see you.

She always begins this announcement with wonderful news, but the second part is different. Emmy nudges her crayon toward me, and I grab for it instinctively. She noticed, too. Normally, Wainwright says, There’s a family that can’t wait to meet you!

Normally, Wainwright smiles.

My chair screeches as I get up, and I wince. As I start to trudge out, Mr. Jordanson says, Congratulations, Nicki. He’s trying to be cheerful, but it comes out more like a question than an exclamation. Fingering my right earring nervously, I follow Wainwright out of the room. It doesn’t even occur to me to turn around and hug Emmy, to find Chrissy for one last game of Uno, to ask Halla about baseball, or to shake Mr. Jordanson’s hand. It should have, though.

After all, I might never see them again.

CHAPTER TWO

Careful What You Wish For

I follow Wainwright out into the hall, pretending not to notice that she stops every few feet to peer at me. She’s trying to figure out if I’m okay. I’ve got my hands in my pockets, so she can’t see my left thumb twitching, and I’m keeping my eyes locked on The Guy, still standing at the doorway of the transition room.

He’s smiling.

I’m not.

Wainwright, am I in trouble or something? I dare to ask, pausing halfway between my friends behind me and The Guy up ahead.

No, dear, nothing like that, she says, taking off her bifocals and squinting down at them while she pinches at the lenses with her cardigan.

"Then why did you just call me dear? Like before, in the art room. You don’t do that. Not ever."

No response. She just takes my shoulder and eases me forward. A step at a time, I’m getting closer to The Guy, and proximity isn’t helping. He’s even more menacing up close. When I see that there’s a woman in the room behind him, also wearing a uniform, my nerves go into overdrive. It feels like no matter how deeply I breathe, I’m not getting any air. If something doesn’t give, I’m going to bolt, and that only ever makes more trouble. So I decide to do my thing.

Hello, sir! It’s nice to meet you! I chirp as I extend my hand. I flash him my most dazzling smile. My other hand sweeps my hair over my left shoulder.

He seems surprised, which is what I expected. Good.

Yeah, Nicki. You too. Nice to meet you, he says, reaching out a big paw to shake. I pull back my own hand before he can grab it, though, and leave him looking at his palm like he’s checking for a rash.

Hmmm … he knows my name already. They’ve probably read my file. Still, I’m betting he won’t see this coming.

The Guy is so big it’s nearly impossible to slip past him. But I use that to my advantage. I let my shoulder glide gently against his chest. I twist my head just enough to allow my earrings to sparkle, and my hands go to work. Once I’m inside, I stow what I’ve scored in my pockets and manage a grin. The woman is sitting at the table and leafing through a big stack of papers. I say, Hello, ma’am, in a syrupy singsong, but she doesn’t even glance up. It’s all kinds of awkward, but that’s to be expected.

This is the transition room, after all.

Ironically, the place is decorated to be as soothing as possible—shelves full of brightly colored books, stuffed animals perched on every available surface, a huge alphabet carpet dominating the floor. There are three comfy chairs, a globe, and a massive toy chest. The idea is that you come in here, and the family that’s adopting you gets to know you. This usually consists of sitting at the table and watching while you play with toys you’re too old for. Occasionally, they ask you a question—What’s your favorite ice cream? or Do you like to read? or Isn’t that a pretty dolly? Do you like dolls, Nicolette?

No. Seriously. I was twelve, and they actually used the word dolly.

As I turn to watch Wainwright close the door, my throat tightens. Just this once, I wish she’d stay instead of watching through the closed-circuit camera.

I make my way over to the corner with the toys. This is Chrissy’s favorite spot in the whole Center; we actually have to stop her from sneaking in. Granted, she’s six and hasn’t been in here enough to associate it with disappointment, but I’d think there would be some lingering ghost of doubt and sweaty anticipation that might spook her. I sure feel it. Grabbing the biggest teddy I can find, one about the size of Fancypaws, I turn back to watch the two uniforms.

The Guy sits next to Ms. Filemonger, who slides him a folder. When he opens it, I see that it’s got Nicolette Demeer written across the tab in red Sharpie. My nose crinkles. They’ve switched the final two letters of my last name. I whisper this to the bear and use the uniforms’ distracted paper rooting as an opportunity to check out the items in my hoodie. Courteously, the bear shields my hands, so when The Guy and Filemonger do finally look up, all they see is a smiling thirteen-year-old with a scruffy grizzly.

She’s pretty enough, don’t you think? The Guy says, and the creepy factor shoots up to about fifteen.

Yes, very much like the mother.

Filemonger is holding a photograph. I can’t see the image, but they’re both squinting at it, then me, then it, nodding the entire time. I’m trying to stay still, but my foot is doing its best to grind a hole through the letter Q. Filemonger is pointing at a chair with her pen. I sit down and put the bear next to me on the table. He’s staring, unblinking, at The Guy, and I’m across from Filemonger. Teddy seems a lot cooler than me right now; my leg is bouncing so badly it’s rattling my teeth.

Nicolette Demere, Filemonger begins. Age?

It takes me a few seconds to realize she’s asking me a question. I say, Isn’t it in my file?

Wrong answer.

Age? she repeats, louder and slower, like she’s trying to translate it into whatever language she thinks children speak.

Thirteen. My birthday was three weeks ago.

Happy birthday! The Guy says, and I offer him a little smile.

Height?

Huh?

Your height. How tall are you, Ms. Demere?

I stare at her for a second, trying to figure out if she’s serious.

I dunno. About five and a half feet? I’m kinda tall for my age, I guess.

You’re five-foot-five, she corrects, reading it from a paper hidden behind the folder.

If you knew it, then why did you ask?

Weight?

I look at The Guy for this one. He arches an eyebrow. I have no idea what that means.

A hundred pounds? I venture.

Closer to ninety.

My shoe size is seven and a half, if that helps.

Race?

I peer up into the camera in the corner, less-than-cleverly disguised in a hanging flower basket.

Is this a TV show or something? Do I get a prize if I figure out that I’m being pranked?

The Guy leans forward. It’s not a prank, Nicki. We’re making sure you are who the file says you are.

Yeah, but what for? You’re not taking me home to practice parenting a rebellious teenager.

The Guy snorts. Smart mouth on you. Why so defensive?

Let’s see, two scary people who didn’t identify themselves have me closed in a room. They’re asking questions about me even though they already know the answers. They’re carrying weapons. Yeah, I think I’m good with defensive.

You never asked who we were, Nicki.

You’re U.S. marshals. Your name is Edward Harkness, but I’m betting you go by Eddie. You’re thirty-nine years old, you were born on the fifth of July—tough luck there, patriot—and you’ve got blue eyes underneath those sunglasses. You have a kid already, but not with her. She’s probably your partner. You drive a Buick, drank coffee this morning, and you used to smoke. How’s that?

Wh-what? How did you…?

Filemonger has frozen mid-file-flip, and The Guy … I suppose I should call him Eddie now … is still fumbling his words.

I look over at the bear and shake my head knowingly. My leg actually slows its bounce. From my pocket I produce Eddie’s wallet, which I slide back to him.

I’m not Sherlock Holmes or anything. Your driver’s license gave me your name, eye color, and birthday. There’s a picture of your wife and kid in there, too. He’s cute in that little football helmet! Oh, and the insignia on your shirt says you’re a U.S. marshal.

Where did you get this? he demands, though by the way he’s holding up the wallet and blinking at it, he’s more wonderstruck than angry.

Your back pocket. Pretty close to where I got these.

I toss his car keys across the table next.

And this, which I’m guessing is the change from a cup of the cheap coffee at the bodega across the street, since it’s ninety-three cents with tax.

I roll a nickel and two pennies his way.

I’ve got your badge, too, but I’m keeping that until I know what the heck is going on. The nicotine gum you can have back. I’m betting you’ll want a piece after this.

You realize we just caught you stealing from a U.S. marshal, young lady? Filemonger says through gritted teeth. I glance at her, but I can’t bring myself to look for too long; she makes me twitchy. Her lips are pursed. Her eyes are narrowed. Her watch squeezes her wrist so tightly you’d think she was using it as a tourniquet. And whereas Eddie’s shirt is comfortably unbuttoned at the collar, Filemonger has hers worked up her neck like the sheath around a knife. Makes sense, I guess, what with the way she’s staring daggers at me.

It’s not stealing, I explain. It’s creative ownership reassignment. Besides, you didn’t catch me. Nobody has, and nobody will. Been found with the goods a few times, but never caught in the act. Now, if you want your badge back, you’ll give me some answers.

I let that sink in for a couple of seconds and then smile innocently. Pretty please?

Eddie starts laughing—little chuckly snorts at first, then a proper Brooklyn belly-bray.

"Got a deal for you, Nicki. You tell me how you did all that, we’ll tell you what you want to know. Then you can decide whether to give my badge

Reviews for Greetings from Witness Protection!

[sullywriter_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Clever and frequently entertaining.

[salsabrarian · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A most sweetly satisfying story about fulfilling parental expectations AND personal happiness. Dennis is a video game aficionado whose destiny is to become a gastroenterologist because his father has always wanted him to be a doctor. A quartet of little guardian angels handles his household chores so Dennis can spend more time studying. But is being a doctor really what he wants to do? I picked this up after hearing the author and illustrator at a conference; they were so hilarious. Gene Yang hinted at the terrific ending and how he came up with it. Just great!

[librarybrandy · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A boy grows up under his father's No Video Games rules, and buys a Nintendo immediately after his father's death. Video games become all-consuming, and it takes four spritely angels to get him back into school, where he loses himself again.

I don't want to say too much and ruin the plot--it's not a very long book--but the video games really propel the story, right through the way the main character deals with the angels following him. It's a story I can see many teens identifying with (a desire to play games against parents' wishes; academic performance vs recreational activity; parental expectations), and while it's cute and funny I don't know that it will stick with me.

[joanaxthelm · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What a beautiful book about finding one's own way, whatever it may be!

IG360L (illustrated guide)

[what_katie_read · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I am amazed at Gene Yang's graphic novels! Review to follow shortly...

[rjmoir · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Dennis Ouyang dreams in pixels, even if the games that inspire those dreams remain out of reach. On the eve of his father's death, he buys his first video game console; the ensuing spiral turns hims from academic star to college dropout. When all hope for making his parents proud seems lost, four cartoonish angels, set to him by his father, appear to Dennis. They tell him he has an important destiny - as a gastroenterologist. They're willing to do anything to help Dennis along this path, from laundry and cooking to threatening professors to get him reenrolled in college. But he has to give up video games to do it. Faced with their increasing control, and his increasing uncertainty about his "destiny" and how much he should let his father's ghost control him, Dennis must come to terms with his fathers regrets and his own.Yang creates a complex relationship between Dennis and his parents; unlike many "controlling parent" stories, this tale refuses to cast them as mere obstacles to the protagonist's happiness. Readers familiar with Yang's lauded "American Born Chinese" may be disappointed to find that Yang does not provide the art for this comic, but Thien Pham's simple, loose watercolor illustrations bring a light touch to this tale about expectations, realizing dreams then finding them wanting, and learning not to let parental expectations define your life - neither as a constraint or an excuse.

[terriko_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An excellent story of parental expectations, medical school, and video games. Not to mention some pesky little angels... I highly recommend this one and don't want to say too much lest I spoil anything!

[thoughtbox-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is one of those stories that can only be told through its chosen medium, an exemplar of the form. I'm not sure I would have thought a "boy comes to term with his father's death through medical school and videogames" story could have been pulled off successfully, but there you go. It's heart-wrenching, redeeming, joyful and a little bit crazypants.

[ladycato · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

The art is simple yet very enjoyable in this graphic novel. It's a magical realist plot, and it went a very different direction than I expected. I expected it to be much more about video games and nostalgia; the first section sets this up in a beautiful way that I could strongly relate to. But then Dennis abandons the video games he loves and slogs through medical school, and it becomes more about angst and drama between friends... and also, the fact that four angels live in Dennis's place, and care and nag for him to finish his doctorate in gastroenterology. The video games only come in again right at the end.It's not a bad story by any means--it's touching, really--but it's not what I hoped it would be.

[Cadence Chandler · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book it was so fun to read I didn’t want to put it down. I think u should read this book

[ftbooklover · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

After the death of her grandmother and with her father in prison, Nicki has been shuffled from foster home to foster home looking for someone who will accept her for what she is, a thief, specifically a pick-pocket. When the US Marshals create Project Family, Nicki is trained and chosen to move with a family into the Witness Protection Program (WITSEC) as their daughter. Elena, the family's mother has testified against her brother and they are now all in danger. Nicki becomes Charlotte and joins the Trevor family in North Carolina. What follows are funny, touching events that find Nicki/Charlotte trying to settle into her new life where she must maintain a B- average and remain as unobtrusive as possible, but Nicki has never been good at being unobtrusive.

Greetings From Witness Protection! is a fun coming-of-age story with some mystery, adventure and school hijinks thrown in. Nicki's character is well developed as are the other members of the family along with Nicki's best friend, Brit. Someone like Nicki could not have survived what she has unscathed, so her kleptomania adds depth and reality to her character. Overall, Greetings From Witness Protection! has characters that are easy to identify with and is a wonderful middle grade story.

[donnamariemerritt · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I'll be recommending this book highly to my 4th and 5th grade library students, but it's also a great read for adults. The tween voices are authentic. Nicki, narrator, is funny and quirky—and a kleptomaniac with incredible dexterity who has a phobia about anyone touching her hands. As a foster kid, she's tapped to help a family in the witness protection program. The bad guys are looking for a mom, dad, and son. They're not looking for a family with a daughter, too. We get glimpses of the bad guys getting closer and closer to finding them, but the focus is on the family dynamics, with Nicki (now Charlotte) and her new brother, Jackson (who is furious at having to leave everyone and everything he knew), trying to fit into a new school without attracting too much attention to themselves. Not to give anything away, but the end was both riveting and uplifting.

[robertalea-223265 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Totally implausible plot. But totally fun read.

[sennebec · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Picked it up by accident...Lucky me! A strong protagonist who could have easily slid into angry snark. Instead, she uses her own painful experiences to help her new fake family heal and become cohesive, makes a valuable friend and even gets her new angsty younger brother to get real. Plenty of action at the end, coupled with a surprise i didn't see coming. Altogether a very satisfying read.

[jrlibrary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I think this is a great recommendation for a reluctant reader. It’s fast-paced and entertaining. The idea that someone without a family would be adopted by someone needing an extra family member for witness protection was an interesting one. I also like the snarky tough attitude of Nikki/Charlotte as she navigates through mean girls and other challenges. Finally, I found it very refreshing that she wasn’t dealing with a love interest anywhere in the book.

[amabilialifestyle · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book took me by surprise. I honestly thought it would be a really cheesy middle grade book, and it is far from that.Nicki Demere suffers from kleptomania and a long list of disappointments. She’s been in and out of foster homes ever since her thieving grandmother died and father stayed imprisoned. It isn't until the U.S. Marshals come to pick her up and take her into another world entirely, one where she can leave her old life behind and forge a new identity as Charlotte Trevor that she starts to find herself amidst a loving family. The family isn't perfect, but neither is she.Here I learned the difference between foster care and being abused by the system; here I learned that Witness Protection is not just about hiding, it's about feeling safe in the process. Jake Burt did an incredible job at rounding out the character of Nicki Demere and her separation from Charlotte Trevor. Her closest friend, Brit, was a unique character and he even wrote her gaming status as normal - in a way - and differs himself from other authors who focus on gamers as these reclusive people incapable of human interaction or holding a conversation. Something else I found interesting (and great) about this book is that he romanticized NOTHING. The thing about writing a disorder (or disease or mental illness, whatever it is) is that you have to make sure you aren't saying it’s fun or easy to have them. Burt went all in and delivered a flawless character - mind you, full of flaws - with a problem that isn't talked about much these days. Which is a lot to say when we live in a moment in time where others don’t take mental illnesses seriously.Also, he wrote all of this in the point of view of A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL.Plus, he managed to weave in an extensive Italian crime syndicate into the story. None of the whole... "Oh, we're in Witness Protection because we feel unsafe in our day to day lives. It's just how we are". No, they actually had a reason to hide. There are no actual ‘crime fighting’ scenes but Elena - or rather, Harriet – is mentioned as a hero because it was her decision to expose her criminal family that got them into the Witness Protection Program. The interviews and court readings are well written as well and add a little mystery to this otherwise easy read. Which, by the way, I couldn’t put down until I was finished because it was that good.Each character is memorable and I was left wanting more! There is a plot twist in the ending that rounded out any questions you might have had (I know I did) and it was just honestly one of those books you’ll come back to in a couple years wanting a movie, or something, on it. I would definitely read this again if I was ever craving a book about family, forgiveness, and friendship. I trust this book with my youngest family members as much as I trust it with my oldest.

[diananewman1617 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What would you do if you were given the chance to help out a family in witness protection? In this novel, Nikki is given the chance to become a part of a family to help further disguise them into the witness protection program. No stranger to foster homes, Nikki does not have any family left at the start of this novel, after her grandma's passing and her father serving time in jail. The U.S. Marshals bring Nikki in for witness protection training, along with her new family, in order to help disguise this family of three (mom, dad, and a son) to become an average family of four. This family is in hiding from some really bad guys, and if they are looking for a family of three, a family of four is not on the bad guys' radar. Nikki and her new parents and brother move to a new state, start a new school, and mostly to the brother's disgust they are not alowed to be involved in any social media platform (Yes, that also means Facebook) or connect with old friends. The kids must maintain an average grade of a B-, and most importantly they cannot reveal anything from their past lives. With these new identities they are learning what it means to be a family, form new friendships, and how important it is to remain average. Will the bad guys ever find them? Only time will tell.I think this would be a good book to recommend to kids who are looking for an interesting twist on family dynamics.

[ashewert · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This books the story of Nikki, a girl growing up in foster care after the death of her Grammy. She is asked by witness protection to join a family that needs protection from the danger of their relatives after speaking at a court case against them. Nikki, now Charlotte, is not your average 7th grader, she is smart, brave, determined and a rather skilled pick-pocket. Over time she learns to love her new life and the people that are in it. For the first time she feels at home...until her mother’s family members show up to make that change. I found this book to be engaging and an interesting subject for the age group that it is meant for. I’m sure that there are kids that would be able to relate to many of the instances that Charlotte went through both at the foster care center and in Middle School. I did not, however, like the ending. I am left wanting to know more about Charlotte as her life continues with the Trevors. The ending seemed rush with all the action being quickly solved in the last 20 or so pages of the book. I did find the addition of Nikki’s father in the story to be intriguing and surprising. Overall an interesting read!

[bluepigeon-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Level Up is another solid, good story from Yang. The temptation of doing things we love to do instead of working hard on things that are not fun at all, the oppressive power family expectations have over us, the awkwardness of unrequited love all receive a good amount of attention in this story. The art by Thien Pham is perfect for the GameBoy aesthetics, which indeed has something to to with the story. The final revelation, especially regarding the "angels" is hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time.

Highly recommended for PacMan fans, gaming nerds, pre-med students, and, of course, generation 1.5 and above immigrant children.

[kittyjay · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another brilliant graphic novel by Gene Luen Yang, Level Up follows Dennis as he struggles between fulfilling his father's wishes for him to become a doctor and his own unhappiness with his life. Video games are one of the few things that make him happy - but they also distract him from his studies.

Yang's strength, also seen in American Born Chinese, is the deft way he uses humor and subtlety to convey a message without ever seeming preachy (it's harder than it seems). Level Up uses that same humor and adds a new twist: using Pac-Man as a metaphor for life (no, really, it works!). The art by Thiem Pham is also wonderful, including the way the opening panel of each "chapter" is stylistically similar, like a video game start screen.

Using the mechanics of video games as a metaphor is nothing new - see: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World - but Yang adds his own twist, humor, and quiet brilliance to the story.

Well worth a read.

[capfox · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Finding oneself and what one wants to do in light of parental pressures is one of the challenges of late adolescent life. Should you do what you like, following your own passions, or should you follow your parents’ desires and advice, and take a more conservative path? Such is the problem facing Dennis Ouyang, who has fallen pretty hard in love with video games, and grows very skilled with them… but whose parents really want him to be a doctor. To study hard, get into the right school, and become the right kind of doctor, that’s what his parents expect. And after his father dies, he has to try to navigate a course between trying to respect his memory and carving out his own life… supported by some angels.The story here is pretty well-done, and doesn’t go exactly where you think; I think it’s not quite as sophisticated as American Born Chinese was, but it was still pretty interesting, and you get a sense of Dennis’s struggles to walk a middle path. There’s also some good medical humor in there, too, if you like that. The supporting characters are interesting, from Dennis’s mom and dad to the other students. It’s probably on purpose that all the students are from minority backgrounds, as well, and pretty much all different ones.The art was pretty good, not super detailed, but meant to evoke gaming, in the panel design and probably in some of the sketchiness. It does a pretty good job of carrying the story across, but it’s not overwhelming.This was an enjoyable and fast little read, but I’d probably try his earlier works first before this one.

[akmargie · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An interesting story although I didn't enjoy this as much as some of his others. I liked the framing of it as video game.

[jasonli_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

"Level Up" is the coming of age story of Dennis coming to terms with his parents' career expectations for him and his own videogame addiction. Spanning several years, the book touches on school life, student romance and the supernatural. Throughout the book, Yang & Pham plays with Asian American parent-child stereotypes, flipping them on their head several times.While Yang & Pham bring solid graphic storytelling to the tale, the plot itself veers towards the simplistic. Character development is short-lived and is, for the most part, centered around racial stereotypes rather than believable characters. Regardless, it does explore some interesting themes, and fans of "American Born Chinese" should definitely check it out.

[dreesie-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I good YA graphic novel about Dennis, a young man trying to find his way. Does he want to be a gastroenterologist, as his parents always hoped? Or does he want to be a professional gamer? Why do they want him to be a doctor so badly? And what does he really care about in life?You can change your mind, as Dennis learns. And that might bring true satisfaction--it lets you know you HAVE chosen correctly for yourself.

[maowangvater · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

When he’s six, Dennis Ouyang sees his first video game, “a beat-up old Pac-Man coin op” in a neighborhood restaurant. His parents won’t let him near it, but as he remembers that night, he thinks, “From then on I dreamed in pixels.” Despite heavy hints, his father refuses to buy him a game, instead he gets a chemistry set for Christmas, and overhears his father saying how much bitterness he has eaten so that his son can grow up in America and be a success, not waste his time playing games. But when his father dies unexpectedly next year, the first thing Dennis does is buy himself a game. Gaming becomes his life—until the angels appear!Yang’s always remarkable storytelling ability is complemented by Pham relaxed simple cartoons and his alternately cute and fierce angels. The dedication to the book says a lot about the creators’ intent. It reads, “…to our brothers Jon and Thinh, both of whom work in the medical field, for being good Asian sons.”

[wsquared_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Dennis Ouyang struggles to live up to his parents' high expectations through college and med school when all he really wants to do is play video games. With a little help from a quartet of seemingly innocent angels, he learns to find his true destiny.Gene Luen Yang's latest graphic novel, illustrated by Thien Pham, tells a story of family loyalty and finding your true calling in beautiful full color illustrations. A touch of magical realism and snippets of med school mayhem bring some lightheartedness to an otherwise somber tale that will particularly resonate with post-collegiate readers.

[rosa.mill · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Dennis Ouyang has always worked hard to do what his father wanted him to do. However when he gets to college he begins to feel tired of always being pushed and loses focus. When he is expelled from college four angels appear to help him get his life together, but is this really the best path for Dennis?

Sometimes when you are reading a graphic novel by a writer who changes artists the change in artists makes it feel almost as though the story is being told by a completely different person. That's kind of how I felt reading this through the first time. However upon further reflection I could clearly see that this was definitely a Gen Luen Yang story.

This graphic novel definitely shows how people can feel as if their life choices are being taken away from them. I loved seeing how Dennis was affected by his father's life. I also liked that it showed how an interest that may seem rediculous and time consuming can still have real life applications. However I am still wondering about what kind of message it sends that Dennis ended up where his parents wanted him to be anyway. Not in an I don't agree with the message kind of way, because it clearly illustrates that Dennis needed to find his own way and get there on his own, but more in a hmmmm how can this be interpreted way.

[fyrefly98 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Summary: Dennis Ouyang just wants to play video games. But after the death of his father, four adorable angels appear and force him to take control of his life: clean up, study hard, finish college, and go to medical school. But the angels are rather jealous of his time, and Dennis doesn't think they're going to take it well when he decides that med school is just not for him.Review: This was a fun little book. It had its serious moments, for sure - a book about expectations and being who you want to be vs. who you were meant to be is not going to be all laughs all the time - but it had its fair share of cute and funny and sweet moments as well (I particularly liked Dennis's interactions with his friends once he started med school). I don't know that what it had to say about what parents want for their kids vs. what kids think their parents want, and what kids want for themselves was anything particularly original, but it was presented smoothly and in a very relatable way. The art in this book is simple - pen drawings with not-always-in-the-lines washes of watercolor - but cute, and fits the tone of the book well. 3.5 out of 5 stars.Recommendation: This book is maybe a little odd in its audience - it's about 20-somethings, but seems like it's geared towards younger readers. But it's a solid coming-of-age story that should be relatable to all ages, particularly if they like video games.

[zzshupinga · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Dennis Ouyang has a passion for playing video games. And he's great at it too! But then...four somewhat adorable, yet really bossy angels show up, and tell Dennis that his destiny is to become a doctor and that he needs to give up his passion. So...Dennis reluctantly gives his gaming stuff over to his best friend, buckles down and studies, heads to medical school and hooks up with a crew to study with. But a crisis of confidence reveals what the angels truly are and Dennis begins to question whether he should follow his passion or his destiny...or an entirely new path.Gene Luen Yang creates a compelling and captivating story that puts a new twist on two old genres, coming of age and father/son relationships. Gene creates compelling characters that are easy to recognize and relate too, because regardless of your age, race, gender you can recognize some aspect of your own life in Dennis and his dad's. Perhaps you've even had the same types of conversations with your parents (hopefully without the bossy angels standing by.) Thien Pham, a relative newcomer to the field, creates beautiful and captivating watercolor illustrations to accompany the tale. While the illustrations may not have a lot of details or secrets hidden in them, they work perfectly with the story--especially when it comes to the bossy angels.A wonderful story and well worth adding to any collection.