Saddled with an unfortunately long name by her eccentric mom, Carolina Agnes London Indiana Florence Ohio Renee Naomi Ida Alabama Lavender just goes by Cal to keep things simple. Cal Lavender is perfectly happy living her anonymous life, even if she does have to play mother to her own mother a whole lot more than an eleven-year-old should. But when Cal's mom has one of her "unfortunate episodes" in the middle of the public library, she is whisked off by the authorities and Cal is escorted to a seat in the back of a police car. On "just a short, temporary detour from what I call life," Cal finds herself in a group home with four other girls, watched over by a strange old woman everyone refers to as the Knitting Lady. At first Cal can think of nothing but how to get out of this nuthouse. She knows she doesn't belong there. But it turns out that all the girls, and even the Knitting Lady, may have a lot more in common than they could have imagined. “Wolfson paints her characters with delightful authenticity. Her debut novel is a treasure of quiet good humor and skillful storytelling that conveys subtle messages about kindness, compassion, and the gift of family regardless of its configuration.” ― Booklist, Starred Review “Wolfson's first novel is a grand-slam home run. Her wonderfully kooky characters, her fast-paced, witty dialogue, and her realistic depiction of emotional growth in severely damaged children keep the reader laughing and crying on every page. In the fine tradition of Holden Caulfield and Huckleberry Finn, Cal is loveably unforgettable. Somewhere, perhaps inside of every reader, is a child who will be reaffirmed by this exceptional piece of middle school fiction.” ― VOYA “Thankfully, books like Wolfson's--issue-oriented and therapeutic--give all kids an enjoyable way to begin to understand the complications of living. Her book specifically is a small miracle for how gently it exposes the wounds of being a foster kid.” ― Santa Cruz Sentinel Jill Wolfson is the author of the novel What I Call Life . Her writing has also appeared in Salon and the San Jose Mercury News . She lives in Santa Cruz, California. What I Call Life By Jill Wolfson Square Fish Copyright © 2008 Jill Wolfson All right reserved. ISBN: 9780312377526 WHAT I CALL LIFE CHAPTER 1 E veryone is always living her story .When I first heard this, I thought: What kind of nutty philosophy is that? Who would buy it? Everyone? Always? All I had to do was look at my own personal situation to see how wrongheaded this kind of thinking happened to be. I looked around at where I was living at the time and with whom I was living and shook my head. No, sir. This isn't MY story. This is nothing like MY life. My life--what I call life--had been running its usual course up until recently. Until everything came to a complete and total halt. That was the day my mother happened to have one of her episodes in full public view at the library (more on that later). I, for a fact, knew that things weren't as bad as they might look. Anyone who knew my mother knew that she'd snap out of it eventually. She always did.But certain people in the library didn't look too kindly on some of the things she was doing during her episode. So these certain people called the police, and, while one of the officers whisked my mother one way, another whisked me outside and loaded me into the back seat of his patrol car.That had been my first time ever in a police car, and, while I suppose that most eleven-year-old girls would have thrown a full-blown emotional conniption, I didn't put up a fuss, no fuss at all.Which brings me back to the subject of life stories. If I was going to tell mine, that's one of the first things I would put in about myself: Cal Lavender is known far and wide for never fussing. No crying. No whining. No complaining. No fuss. Not even when she has to sit in a police car, breathing in the smell of sweat, stale cigarettes, and worn, cracked leather. Whew! I'll tell you one thing. If that vehicle is any indication of what the rest of the police cars in our city are like, they could definitely use a good airing out. But even though I have the ability to clean up far worse messes, I wasn't about to volunteer to do it. Let that officer and his criminal riders clean out their own car.There was a sharp crackle of static from the police radio, and that's when I decided that I would fold up and die right then and there if the policeman put on the siren. I cringed at the thought of being paraded through downtown in such an embarrassing manner, especially so soon after the previous embarrassing situation at the library. (Like I already said, more on that later.)That's another thing you could put in any story about my life: Cal Lavender hates it when nosy strangers think it is perfectly okay to stare at people in situations that they know nothing about. But thank goodness the siren didn't happen. There were only the usual t