When a young witch goes off to boarding school, she discovers powers that leave her with a challenging choice. Eleven-year-old Hallie is more thrilled than you might think to be shipping off to boarding school. After seeing how horrible “normal” kids can be—kids like her former BFF, Kendall Scott—Hallie figures The Dowling Academy School of Witchcraft will be a welcome fresh start. Plus, it’s a chance to make her dad proud that she’s continuing family traditions and becoming the best kind of witch, just like her legendary great-great-grandmother. But when Hallie arrives at Dowling, she’s dismayed to discover her roommate will be none other than awful Kendall. And when Hallie’s witching talents take a turn for the dark side, she must determine whether it’s abilities or choices that distinguish the good from the wicked. Gr 4–7—Hallie Simon is shocked when she is invited to enroll in the Dowling Academy School of Witchcraft. This is the first she has heard of her magical abilities, and she is excited to have a fresh start at a new school. For years, she has been plagued by Kendall, her once-best friend now turned mortal enemy, and the opportunity to leave home is irresistible. Unfortunately, she soon discovers that the beautiful and malicious Kendall is her roommate at Dowling. When strange things begin happening to Hallie, events that seem impossible to explain, she must turn to her friends for help in understanding her newfound powers. Full of repetitive phrasing and an extremely weak backstory, this novel leaves readers wanting more. The sixth graders come across as too old for their years, and the plot is focused more on describing their hair and skin types than it is on the magic. Suggest Michael Buckley's "The Sisters Grimm" (Abrams) or John Stephen's "Books of Beginning" (Knopf) series to fantasy fans, and for those looking for tales about acceptance and fashion advice, suggest Candice Ransom's Rebel McKenzie (Hyperion, 2012).—Amy Nolan, St. Joseph Public Library, St. Joseph, MI Lara Chapman lives with her family in Central Texas, where she teaches high school English. She reads and writes daily and is rarely—if ever—found without her laptop and phone. Lara has a lifelong love affair with animals, especially daschunds, and always has an animal or two snuggled close when writing. The XYZs of Being Wicked One Mom’s voice is clipped and irritated when she taps her watch. “Tick tock, Hallie.” I keep my eyes on the television. “When this is over.” The television clicks off, and I huff out a big breath. I hate it when she does that. “I’m not packing for you, no matter how long you put it off.” I lie down on the couch and groan. “I’ll do it later. Who knows when I’ll get to see my shows again.” “One, two . . .” “Really? You’re counting? I’m eleven, Mom. Not five.” She grabs my legs and drops them to the floor. “Now.” Moving more slowly than honey in a snowstorm, I drag myself to the attic door. I hate attics. And basements. They’re the soulless pits of a house, and I have no use for either one of them. Except today. Today, I have to climb into the attic. It doesn’t matter that the last time I was in the attic, I fell and landed face-first in the biggest spiderweb any spider has ever created in the history of the world. I’m on my third jump to reach the cord hanging from the attic door when Dad appears. He drops a step ladder in front of me. “The definition of ‘insanity’ is doing the same thing and—” “Expecting different results,” I finish. Dad’s a total quote junkie. This particular Einstein quote has been repeated in my house so many times, I have it memorized. I take two steps on the small ladder, grab the cord, and pull it down. “Packing? Already?” he teases, knowing Mom’s been nagging me for a week to pack. “Funny, Dad.” I give him a smile, and my heart pinches. I’m going to miss him. I’m going to miss Mom. I’m going to miss my dog, Charlie. The only thing I won’t miss is the heartless Kendall Scott, who has made it her personal mission in life to ensure I never rise above the level of social scum at school. Dad rubs his hands together like he’s warming them over a fire. “Exciting stuff, Hallie.” A flame of panic spreads through my stomach. I douse it with the reminder that I’m starting over in a new school with new kids. Dowling’s my do-over. I look up the attic stairs, then back at him. He knows how I feel about attics.“Want me to turn the light on?” Without waiting for me to answer, he climbs the stairs, yanks the light cord, and comes back down. “It’s all yours.” Watching Dad walk off, I wish I’d asked him to go up with me. I grab the handle of the folding stairs that lead to the attic and gently place my foot on the first step. It creaks lightly under my weight. You’re being ridiculous, Hallie Faith Simon. Climb the steps, clean out the trunk, pack, and be done with it. I hold my breath and take the rest of the steps quickly, exhaling when I reach the top.