Realistic Fiction Books For 12 Year-olds Novels & Stories

The Little Mermaid popped out at me, as did The Emperor's New Clothes, but I thought maybe a story that people are foolish in public wouldn’t be the best choice. Then I looked around some more and picked up Floca’s Moonshot: The Flight of Apollo 11, Lewis’s The Wolf, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and Dahl’s Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and a few others. I paused at the Harry Potter series, but while the girls were old enough, being werewolves, for the story, I knew the sizes of the books would put them off. Next year, I thought. They’d have handled textbooks by then and wouldn’t be so rapidly opposed to books an inch thick or more.

we same in unison pointing to each other. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------- “There is no such thing as a good story. There is only something like a good book. A good book is where a reader finds complete solace and comfort; a way to escape harsh realities relating to his life” - R.A Higheels If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a review!

Books by John Grisham, Sidney Sheldon, Colleen Hoover, James Patterson and Ted Dekker. Jamaal Amir Haidar reads novels, crime most especially. I'm even shocked to see he reads Colleen Hoover's books too. I picked one of the books and began to smell the fresh scent of newly printed books. The door opened suddenly, Jamaal stepped in with little Ahmad in his arms. The little boy had his hands wrapped around his brother's neck. I stared at Jamaal in shock, seeing Jamaal holding his younger brother, trying to lure him to sleep shocked me.

If you’re below eighteen, you should not read these books as they feature a lot of violence, gore and sex. If you’re a fan of fantasy series with werewolves, demons, vampires, witches, gods and whatnot, you can read THE WICKED GAMES, which is the first in the series called The Spirileaxus Saga. Unfortunately, none of the books in this series is standalone, so you have to read them in chronological order. You can also go for CURSED BLESSINGS. Again, this is book one in the series The Blessed Ones.

eats me from the inside like a deadly acid. I've become someone completely different. I trust few people and almost never talk about myself or my parents. After all, I can’t let anyone know more about me than necessary, I realize that most people see me as a smiling, happy girl who is always sincere and never refuses to help. In reality, I’m a closed-minded little frightened person. The mud sticks to my soaked shoes. Another five hundred meters or so and I’ll be able to take off my clothes, run warm water into the tub and plunge into it up to the tip of my nose, leaving everything behind. Like every day, I will grab one of the books and absorb another story that will never really happen. In

I laugh at the clever word play. "Can we go in there?" I plead. Jack looks to where I'm pointing, "Of course." He smiles at me. I smile super hard and stare at the adventure ahead of me. We walk in and I look at a ton of cooking books, dog calendars and more. There's a book there called, Dear Nobody. It's a true story about a girl named, Mary Rose, who has to deal with her drug addiction and boys. The book interests me. I show Jack. "Out of every book in this store, you choose the one about an addict?" Jack raises his eyebrows. I shrug.

What happens when roles shift, boundaries blur, and friendship is no longer enough to hold them together? Same tags. Different story Chapter 1 Once upon a time, in the wild jungles of junior middle school, where survival depended on sharp tongues and faster legs, and everyone was exactly twelve years old, a peculiar friendship bloomed. It was the kind of place where classrooms felt like battlefields and lunch breaks were either sacred or dangerous, depending on who you were.

Laura: I’ve always been good at pretending. At school, I’m the quiet girl who gets straight A’s and smiles politely when teachers praise me. At home, I’m Daddy’s little helper—setting the table, folding laundry, saying “yes, sir” when he asks me to do something. But inside my head? It’s a different story. Lately, the thoughts won’t leave me alone.

“Hey… about what you saw earlier.” She jumped, clutching the book to her chest. “I—I didn’t see anything. I swear. I won’t tell anyone.” I smiled softly and stepped even closer, backing her gently against the shelves. “Relax. Professor Harlan and I… we have an understanding. But I saw how you looked at us. You didn’t run away because you were scared. You ran because it turned you on, didn’t it?” Her cheeks burned brighter. She shook her head quickly. “No… that’s not… I’m not—”

But survival is not always visible in the shine of a child’s hair, the cleanliness of her skin, nor the neatness of her dress. We each found our own ways to endure. I was the nerd, always lost in books. I devoured stories with a hunger that had nothing to do with curiosity and everything to do with escape. Between the pages of fairy tales and legends, I could breathe in worlds that were not my own, where monsters were slain, heroes rose, and endings could be rewritten. The words became my refuge, the only places where the horrors of my real life could not follow. Everyone saw me as the smart child destined to do great things and how lucky I was to be so smart.