From School Library Journal
Grade 6-9 - Rachel Weinstein, 14, wants many things - she'd love to remain best buds with her newly popular friend Jewel, get a date to the Spring Fling, and stop her dad from marrying her "Soon To Be Step-Monster." When her younger sister, Miri, discovers that she is a witch, Rachel just knows that her dreams are within her grasp. Though the girls' mother warns them that magic can lead to unexpectedly harsh consequences, the sisters secretly come up with plan after plan to stop their father's wedding and help Rachel find popularity. The plot is fairly predictable, but Rachel's cheeky voice and painfully obvious desperation to make her life perfect keep her appealing. The relationship between the sisters is the book's real strength. The pain they feel at watching their father remarry is real, as is the vulnerability they show while trying scary new adult roles. Minor characters, while briefly sketched, seem like real people, though their development is clumsily handled at times, and bends more toward plot needs than true growth. This is a busy book, but winning characters rise above the chaos. A breezy read that is sure to be popular. - Sarah Couri, New York Public Library Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From Booklist
Gr. 6-9. When 14-year-old Rachel learns that Miri, her "vegetarian, socially inept little sister" and her divorced mother are witches, her reactions run the gamut from incredulity and annoyance that she isn't similarly gifted to shrewdness as she plans how her sister's abilities can be marshaled to solve a passel of problems. Can magic move Rachel to the popularity A list? Revive a fading friendship? Prevent her father from remarrying? Guarantee a date for the Spring Fling? Yes, . . . but not before Rachel and Miri learn the hard way that all spells have consequences. Despite the provocative title and Chick Lit-ish cover, this isn't just another breezy teen read. Mlynowski has a real ear for dialogue, and she displays a keen understanding of teen mores as she pokes fun at high-school cliques. Several lovely scenes break up the comedy, including one in which klutzy Rachel revels in her newfound coordination and the pleasure of dancing. Rachel is sassy, self-absorbed, shy and insecure, and her concerns will be comfortably familiar to readers. Chris Sherman
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

From the Inside Flap
What if all your wishes could come true? Blink your eyes, drink a fizzing pink potion, and poof! Life is perfect. That’s Rachel’s situation. Except she’s not the one who suddenly has magical powers. Her younger sister is. And as Rachel would tell you, spellbooks are wasted on the young!

Yes, yes, of course world peace and cures for horrible diseases are important. But so is dancing without looking like she’s being electrocuted, winning back her best friend, stopping her dad’s wedding, and finding a date for Spring Fling.

Rachel’s not bewitched. Yet. . . .

About the Author
After graduating from McGill University with an honors degree in English, Sarah Mlynowski spent several years working for a publishing company in Toronto. Her novels have received glowing praise. She lives in New York City.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1



Better Than Ruby Slippers



I've wished for lots of things in my fourteen years . . . a boyfriend, world peace, cleavage. But none of my wishes have come true.

Until now.

I'm standing by my locker, zipping up my black puffy coat, when I notice the sneakers.

They're the green suede designer ones I admired at Bloomie's last week. My mom said I couldn't have them because they cost more than our TV.

And they're on my feet.

"But how--" I mumble, blinking in confusion. Where are the beaten-up black boots I always have on? "I mean, when . . . ?"

Did I accidentally swap shoes with someone after gym? Am I a thief?

Impossible. The only time I ever took anything that wasn't mine was when I inadvertently wore Jewel's retainer. Gross, yes. But criminal? No.

My heart starts beating erratically. This is so weird. How did these shoes get on my feet?

Wait a millisecond. Maybe my mom bought them to surprise me? Not that she normally does stuff like that, but I have been on my best behavior lately (after being grounded for something completely ridiculous, don't even ask) and she's big on rewarding good deeds.

I guess I must have laced them up this morning without even noticing. Lame. But I went to bed really late last night, and I'm always zoned out when I'm tired.

That still doesn't explain why I didn't notice I was wearing them until now though. I glance back down. The shoes are a luminous green. Sparkling, even. They're practically screaming at me to notice them.

Whatever. New shoes! The ideal accessory for my awesome after-school plans. I smile like someone who just got her braces off.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I ask Tammy. She's busy rummaging through her satchel. The least I can do is thank my mom--maybe she'll cave on a cell phone for me next.

"Cool shoes," Tammy says, glancing down. "When did you change?"

"I . . . didn't. I've, uh, been wearing them all day." Haven't I? Now I'm totally unsure again.

Tammy gives me a thumbs-up sign with her right hand and passes the phone with her left. She uses finger signals to indicate her thoughts. She learned to scuba dive with her family last year in Aruba and now frequently communicates by underwater mime. Thumbs-up means "Let's get out of the water," which means she wants to hightail it out of here.

My mother answers on the first ring.

"Mom, thanks for the sneakers. They're perfect! Sorry I didn't notice them this morning."

Pause. Then muffled static.

"You still there?" I ask, tapping my heels together. Who knew green suede could look so glam? "I can't hear you."

There's furious whispering in the background, and then a loud "Shhh!"

"You need to come home," my mom tells me.

"What? Why?" I ask. My stomach free-falls.

Another pause. More furious whispering. "I have something to talk to you about," my mom says. Her voice sounds uneven. "Something extremely important."

"But I have extremely important after-school plans!" My destiny is waiting for me at Stromboli Pizzeria! This is a complete and utter disaster. "And when I called you an hour ago you said I could go!"

"Things have changed," my mother says, her clipped words ruining my life. "I want you back at the apartment."

My down-filled coat starts to feel like a furnace. "Can't we talk about whatever is so earth-shattering later?"

My mother heaves one of her why-must-I-carry-the-weight-of-the-world-on-my-thin-shoulders sighs. "Rachel, enough."

"Fine." I sigh right back. I have a sigh of my own, and it's just as martyrish. In a small triumph, I press the pink End button before she can say good-bye.

"I can't come," I tell Tammy, handing her the phone. My cheeks feel all blotchy. Why couldn't I have just thanked my mom when I got home?

Tammy adjusts her light brown ponytail and makes a fist in front of her chest, her "low on air" sign, meaning she feels bad for me. Tammy is an excellent sympathizer, as well as smart and reliable. She's always there when I need someone to talk to, and more important, when I unintentionally sport poppy bagel seeds between my teeth, she immediately and covertly lets me know by tapping her lips. She's a great friend. It's just that--okay, I hate to play favorites--I like Jewel more. But the way Jewel has been treating me, I might as well be walking around with an I-just-got-dumped sash across my nonexistent chest.

Sigh.

Over the past four months, since she strutted her stuff for the JFK fashion show tryouts and got in, Juliana Sanchez (Jewel for short, Bee-Bee for shorter/longer) has morphed from my sidekick and best friend into a card-carrying member of the inner circle. Yes, she made the A-list. Except for a few minutes in math class, I hardly ever get to talk to her anymore. I miss her.

Going to Stromboli's would have been a step toward reclaiming our Bee-Bee status. (Sorry for the cheddary Best Buds acronym, but Jewel and I have been using it forever.) The entire cool crowd will be there. I was lucky even to have been asked. Mick Lloyd invited Jeffrey Stars, who invited Aaron Jacobs, who invited Tammy, who invited me. And you don't go if you don't get an invite. You can't. You wouldn't know what pizza place/coffee shop/parentless apartment the A-list selected, so you wouldn't know where to show up. If only they would just choose the same place every time, like they did on Friends. Monica never showed up at a new coffee spot, The Not-So-Central Perk, wondering where everyone was.

Down the hall I see Raf Kosravi at his locker, pulling out his coat. A strand of his midnight black hair falls into his matching dark eyes, and he brushes it away with the back of his hand.

Heart. Beating. Erratically. Not. Because. Of. Shoes.

Sigh. Because of my mother, I will potentially be missing out on precious flirting time with Raf, the boy I'm in love with.

I am also in love with Mick Lloyd. Yes, I know it seems strange to love two boys at the same time, but since I've never spoken more than two words to either of them ("Happy Holidays!" to Raf and "Excuse me" to Mick), I'm not concerned about my divided heart. Mick Lloyd is the cute, blond, all-American type that's cast on every dating show. Big smile, dimple in each cheek, great hair. Raf is more mysterious-slash-sexy. He's not too tall, only around five foot six (which is still much, much taller than me at five foot one--I'd better still be growing), and has a lean, fit body like a champion tennis player or an Olympic swimmer (not that I've ever watched professional tennis or swimming). Raf is also in the fashion show with Jewel.

Ah, the fashion show. It's really a dance show with a catwalk and designer outfits. Or so I hear. Since I'm only a freshman, and the show is in April, I've never seen it. And since a former JFK student who's now an It Guy Hollywood director launched the idea ten years ago to raise money for the prom, it's always been a cool thing for guys to do. Like football or baseball. There is an overlap of boys who play football with those who are in the show. Unfortunately for the school trophy case, the quarterback is a better dancer than he is an athlete.

Mick isn't in the show, but he does play on the JV baseball team, the only sports team at our school that doesn't always lose. And--impressive residence alert!--he lives in a massive brownstone. Since his mom and dad are frequently out of town, he throws a lot of wild parties (not that I've ever been). Raf and Mick are both very, very A-list. But that isn't the reason I like them.

Raf buttons up his coat and slaps one of his friends on the back.

Sigh.

I am such a liar. Of course that's why I like them. I don't even know them, so why else would I like them? They're hot and cool--as in sexy and popular--and if either of them were interested in me, I would actually have a real kiss to brag about. (I claim my first was with a Texan named Stu who I met on a cruise. This is a total lie. Although there was a boy named Stu from Texas, he was seven.) Plus, I would instantly be promoted from the B-list (B+ on an excellent hair day) to the A-list.

I really want to be A-list. Yes, I know I'm being colossally pathetic, and I've seen enough movies to know that popular people always get their comeuppance. And being A-list in high school doesn't guarantee you'll be cool in college. But . . . like blondes, the A-list always seems to have more fun.

I ask you: Is it so wrong to want to be happy? Is it so wrong to want to be liked? Is it wrong to want my life to be like a soda ad, with lots of laughing, jumping, and high-fiving?

ANNOTATION

Living in New York City with her mother and her younger sister, Miri, fourteen-year-old Rachel tries to persuade Miri, who has recently become a witch, to help her become popular at school and to try to stop their divorced father's wedding.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Everyone needs a little magic. Especially 14-year-old Rachel. Not only did her younger sister, Miri, inherit her mother's ample bosom (so not fair), it turns out that her little sis is also a witch! Of course, there's a chance that Rachel is a witch too--maybe her powers just haven't kicked in yet. If only they would . . . in the meantime she's got to suffer being a B-lister with a crush on an A-list guy, watch her best friend and social schemer Rosie desert her, and be an unwilling participant in her hapless father's remarriage to STBSM (soon-to-be-stepmonster). Retch.

Samantha Stevens? Sabrina? Anyone in Salem home? Rachel Weinstein needs your help!

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

Although its premise is not altogether original, Mlynowski's (Milkrun) novel starring a teenage witch, told from the point of view of her 14-year-old mortal sister, offers plenty of laughs and some deliciously complicated predicaments. The fun begins when narrator Rachel learns that her "vegetarian, socially inept" 12-year-old sister, Miri, has suddenly developed magical powers. Oddly enough, she apparently has inherited them from the girls' divorced, rather mundane mother, who admits she "excommunicated [herself] from the witchcraft community" a long time ago. Their mother forbids Miri to cast spells until she undergoes a year of witch training, but the girl is eventually persuaded by her scheming sister to test her spell-casting abilities by helping Rachel become a flawless dancer, win a spot in a fashion show and capture the attention of a cute boy named Raf. All too soon, however, the girls discover that messing with fate can have dire consequences, especially when they attempt to put a halt to their father's upcoming wedding. While the outcome of the story is fairly predictable, Rachel and Miri have enough depth, morals-and flaws-to draw sympathy from readers and keep events interesting. The book's open ending suggests that more pleasingly far-fetched scenes await, but readers will have to hold out until next year for the sequel, Frogs and French Kisses. Ages 12-up. (Feb.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews