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……… Page 1………
Flipped
by Wendelin Van Draanen
……… Page 2………
More praise for FLIPPED：
“We flipped over this fantastic book； its gutsy girl Juli and its wise； wonderful ending。”
—The Chicago Tribune
“Delightful！ Delicious！ And totally teen。”
—BookPage
* “With a charismatic leading lady kids will flip over； a pelling dynamic between the two
narrators and a resonant ending； this novel is a great
deal larger than the sum of its parts。”
—Publishers Weekly； Starred
“A wonderful； light…hearted novel。”
—Library Talk
“This is a wry character study； a romance with substance and subtlety。”
—Booklist
“A highly agreeable romantic edy。”
—Kirkus Reviews
Dedicated with infinite love to Colton and Connor； who make me feel like so much more than
the sum of my parts。
Special thanks to… my husband； Mark Parsons； who helps me feel the magic；
and my excellent editor； Nancy Siscoe； for her care and insight （and for making me stick to a
reduced…filler diet）。
Also； eternal gratitude to Tad Callahan and Patricia Gabel； who were on the ball when we
needed it most。
Finally； thanks to Jeanne Madrid and the staff at Casa De Vida—may you keep the spirit。
CONTENTS
Diving Under
Flipped
Buddy； Beware！
The Sycamore Tree
Brawk…Brawk…Brawk！
The Eggs
Get a Grip； Man
The Yard
Looming Large and Smelly
The Visit
The Serious Willies
The Dinner
Flipped
The Basket Boys
……… Page 3………
Diving Under
All I've ever wanted is for Juli Baker to leave me alone。 For her to back off — you know； just
give me some space。
It all started the summer before second grade when our moving van pulled into her
neighborhood。 And since we're now about done with the
eighth grade； that； my friend； makes more than half a decade of strategic avoidance and
social disfort。
She didn't just barge into my life。 She barged and shoved and wedged her way into my life。
Did we invite her to get into our moving van and start
climbing all over boxes？ No！ But that's exactly what she did； taking over and showing off like
only Juli Baker can。
My dad tried to stop her。 “Hey！” he says as she's catapulting herself on board。 “What are you
doing？ You're getting mud everywhere！” So true；
too。 Her shoes were； like； caked with the stuff。
She didn't hop out； though。 Instead； she planted her rear end on the floor and started
pushing a big box with her feet。 “Don't you want some help？”
She glanced my way。 “It sure looks like you need it。”
I didn't like the implication。 And even though my dad had been tossing me the same sort of
look all week； I could tell — he didn't like this girl
either。 “Hey！ Don't do that；” he warned her。 “There are some really valuable things in that
box。”
“Oh。 Well； how about this one？” She scoots over to a box labeled LENOX and looks my way
again。 “We should push it together！”
“No； no； no！” my dad says； then pulls her up by the arm。 “Why don't you run along home？
Your mother's probably wondering where you are。”
This was the beginning of my soon…to…bee…acute awareness that the girl cannot take a
hint。 Of any kind。 Does she zip on home like a kid
should when they've been invited to leave？ No。 She says； “Oh； my mom knows where I am。
She said it was fine。” Then she points across the street
and says； “We just live right over there。”
My father looks to where she's pointing and mutters； “Oh boy。” Then he looks at me and
winks as he says； “Bryce； isn't it time for you to go inside
and help your mother？”
I knew right off that this was a ditch play。 And I didn't think about it until later； but ditch wasn't
a play I'd run with my dad before。 Face it； pulling a
ditch is not something discussed with dads。 It's like； against parental law to tell your kid it's
okay to ditch someone； no matter how annoying or
muddy they might be。
But there he was； putting the play in motion； and man； he didn't have to wink twice。 I smiled
and said； “Sure thing！” then jumped off the liftgate and
headed for my new front door。
I heard her ing after me but I couldn't believe it。 Maybe it just sounded like she was
chasing me； maybe she was really going the other way。
But before I got up the nerve to look； she blasted right past me； grabbing my arm and
yanking me along。
This was too much。 I planted myself and was about to tell her to get lost when the weirdest
thing happened。 I was making this big windmill motion
to break away from her； but somehow on the downswing my hand wound up tangling into
hers。 I couldn't believe it。 There I was； holding the mud
monkey's hand！
I tried to shake her off； but she just clamped on tight and yanked me along； saying； “C'mon！”
My mom came out of the house and immediately got the world's sappiest look on her face。
“Well； hello；” she says to Juli。
“Hi！”
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I'm still trying to pull free； but the girl's got me in a death grip。 My mom's grinning； looking at
our hands and my fiery red face。 “And what's your
name； honey？”
“Julianna Baker。 I live right over there；” she says； pointing with her unoccupied hand。
“Well； I see you've met my son；” she says； still grinning away。
“Uh…huh！”
Finally I break free and do the only manly thing available when you're seven years old — I
dive behind my mother。
Mom puts her arm around me and says； “Bryce； honey； why don't you show Julianna around
the house？”
I flash her help and warning signals with every part of my body； but she's not receiving。 Then
she shakes me off and says； “Go on。”
Juli would've tramped right in if my mother hadn't noticed her shoes and told her to take them
off。 And after those were off； my mom told her that
her dirty socks had to go； too。 Juli wasn't embarrassed。 Not a bit。 She just peeled them off
and left them in a crusty heap on our porch。
I didn't exactly give her a tour。 I locked myself in the bathroom instead。 And after about ten
minutes of yelling back at her that no； I wasn't ing
out anytime soon； things got quiet out in the hall。 Another ten minutes went by before I got
the nerve to peek out the door。
No Juli。
I snuck out and looked around； and yes！ She was gone。
Not a very sophisticated ditch； but hey； I was only seven。
My troubles were far from over； though。 Every day she came back； over and over again。
“Can Bryce play？” I could hear her asking from my hiding
place behind the couch。 “Is he ready yet？” One time she even cut across the yard and looked
through my window。 I spotted her in the nick of time
and dove under my bed； but man； that right there tells you something about Juli Baker。 She's
got no concept of personal space。 No respect for
privacy。 The world is her playground； and watch out below — Juli's on the slide！
Lucky for me； my dad was willing to run block。 And he did it over and over again。 He told her
I was busy or sleeping or just plain gone。 He was a
lifesaver。
My sister； on the other hand； tried to sabotage me any chance she got。 Lyta's like that。
She's four years older than me； and buddy； I've learned
from watching her how not to run your life。 She's got ANTAGONIZE written all over her。 Just
look at her — not cross…eyed or with your tongue sticking
out or anything — just look at her and you've started an argument。
I used to knock…down…drag…out with her； but it's just not worth it。 Girls don't fight fair。 They pull
your hair and gouge you and pinch you； then they run
off gasping to mommy when you try and defend yourself with a fist。 Then you get locked into
time…out； and for what？ No； my friend； the secret is；
don't snap at the bait。 Let it dangle。 Swim around it。 Laugh it off。 After a while they'll give up
and try to lure someone else。
At least that's the way it is with Lyta。 And the bonus of having her as a pain…in…the…rear
sister was figuring out that this method works on
everyone。 Teachers； jerks at school； even Mom and Dad。 Seriously。 There's no winning
arguments with your parents； so why get all pumped up over
them？ It is way better to dive down and get out of the way than it is to get clobbered by some
parental tidal wave。
The funny thing is； Lyta's still clueless when it es to dealing with Mom and Dad。 She
goes straight into thrash mode and is too busy
drowning in the argument to take a deep breath and dive for calmer water。
And she thinks I'm stupid。
……… Page 5………
Anyway； true to form； Lyta tried to bait me with Juli those first few days。 She even snuck
her past Dad once and marched her all around the
house； hunting me down。 I wedged myself up on the top shelf of my closet； and lucky for me；
neither of them looked up。 A few minutes later I heard
Dad yell at Juli to get off the antique furniture； and once again； she got booted。
I don't think I went outside that whole first week。 I helped unpack stuff and watched TV and
just kind of hung around while my mom and dad
arranged and rearranged the furniture； debating whether Empire settees and French Rococo
tables should even be put in the same room。
So believe me； I was dying to go outside。 But every time I checked through the window； I
could see Juli showing off in her yard。 She'd be heading
a soccer ball or doing high kicks with it or dribbling it up and down their driveway。 And when
she wasn't busy showing off； she'd just sit on the curb
with the ball between her feet； staring at our house。
My mom didn't understand why it was so awful that “that cute little girl” had held my hand。
She thought I should make friends with her。 “I thought
you liked soccer； honey。 Why don't you go out there and kick the ball around？”
Because I didn't want to be kicked around； that's why。 And although I couldn't say it like that
at the time； I still had enough sense at age seven and
a half to know that Juli Baker was dangerous。
Unavoidably dangerous； as it turns out。 The minute I walked into Mrs。 Yelson's second…grade
classroom； I was dead meat。 “Bryce！” Juli squeals。
“You're here。” Then she charges across the room and tackles me。
Mrs。 Yelson tried to explain this attack away as a “wele hug；” but man； that was no hug。
That was a front…line； take…'em…down tackle。 And even
though I shook her off； it was too late。 I was branded for life。 Everyone jeered； “Where's your
girl friend； Bryce？” “Are you married yet； Bryce？” And
then when she chased me around at recess and t