вЂњHeвЂ™s definitely strange,вЂќ said Quinn, giggling. And heвЂ™s sitting right there.вЂќ She reached over the top of the seat and flicked the back of JoshвЂ™s head. вЂњWhatвЂ™s weird,вЂќ said Kara, вЂњis no one noticed that the alien escaped. Hills rose and fell like petrified waves. Quinn glanced anxiously at the barren landscape. The militaryвЂ™s still holding one captive in Area 51.вЂќ вЂњAliens landed in Roswell, New Mexico, ages ago. Josh poked his head through the center aisle. вЂњMysterious and вЂ¦ alien.вЂќ She whistled a sci-fi tune. вЂњYou havenвЂ™t stopped eating since we left Denver,вЂќ said Mrs. He was twelve-a year older than the girls-but Quinn was just as tall. The girl with the short black hair looked at Quinn and smiled. QuinnвЂ™s coloring was now tucked inside a brand-new border. Before she could, a hand reached over and made a few quick strokes with a black crayon. A moment before, sheвЂ™d been proud of her work. Quinn looked down and saw orange lines streaking outside the bold black border. Quinn was at a table with three other kids. She remembered how theyвЂ™d met on the first day of kindergarten. The thought of Kara moving a thousand miles away stabbed her inside. Quinn grinned until the corners of her mouth quivered. They made another and pulled the ends tight. She reached over and looped her bracelet through KaraвЂ™s. Only now that Kara was moving away, it was like the threads were unraveling. Two colors tightly woven to form a single band.

Quinn ran a finger along the intertwining purple and orange pattern. SheвЂ™d made them back in November, the day after everything changed. The knot Quinn had been picking at came loose. Good thing theyвЂ™d be through the Mojave before nightfall.

She imagined hordes of snakes and scorpions crouched under rocks, waiting for darkness before attacking. Nothing but gravel and rock, spindly creosote, and cacti spreading out on all sides. Quinn sat beside Kara in the rear seat of the red Caravan. No one else in the minivan noticed-at least no one said a word-but with each mile that passed, the sound grew louder. A low, dull hum, like a swarm of bees a million miles away. Quinn had to concentrate hard to hear it. She is a lover of the fantastical, the bizarre, and all things creepy.THE SOUND WAS FAINT AT FIRST. She loved stories like The Tell-Tale Heart and The Pit and the Pendulum and aspired to write similar stories. In elementary school, one of her favorite authors was Edgar Allen Poe. She has an Masters in French Literature and is the author of several horror and fantasy novels for kids and teens. Marina Cohen grew up in Toronto, Canada, where she spent far too much time asking herself what if. HereвЂ™s what Kirkus has to say about the book: Now, if that doesnвЂ™t make you want to find out more, I donвЂ™t know what will! вЂњN o,вЂќ whispered Kara, her eyes wide with horror. W ithout warning, Quinn sprinted the length of the pool toward the entrance to the hotel.Д® xcept for Persephone, who lurked behind her counter, and Sharon, who was leaning over speaking to her in hushed whispers, the lobby was deserted. Vapor puffs from QuinnвЂ™s mouth and the wind snatches it away. N ext she located a fountain pen-the kind that used real ink-and placed it beside the book I saw a road around here called Z-Z-Y-Z-X.

I asked Marina to do an acrostic poem about the story to give readers a taste of what to expect. I read the book and had a hard time putting it down. You may or may not be hearing some buzz about a new release for the middle grade crowd: THE INN BETWEEN by Marina Cohen (Roaring Brook Press 2016)is a scary, spine-tingly tale that readers will be riveted to from first page to last.

The inn between cohen