The cheerleaders

Review by Booklist Review

It's been five years since the cheerleaders died in Sunnybrook: two were killed in a car accident, two were murdered, and one, Monica's sister, committed suicide. Monica's still haunted by her sister's death and struggling to hold herself together, and while looking for painkillers in her cop stepfather's desk, she stumbles on her sister's old phone and some suspicious letters. Her curiosity piqued, she starts snooping. The case is purportedly closed, but Monica finds compelling holes in the official record, and with the help of her new friend Ginny and a mysterious boy from her sister's past, she finds that the truth is far more disturbing and closer to home than she imagined. Thomas builds her novel around an appealingly gruesome case, which is nicely grounded by Monica's unresolved grief and guilt over a taboo relationship. Though her motivations are occasionally cloudy, Monica's sleuthing is daring and beset by red herrings, which keeps the pace moving at a solid clip. Flashbacks from Monica's sister's perspective offer even more intrigue. A solid pick for mystery fans.--Hunter, Sarah Copyright 2018 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Weaving a deceptively intimate and intricate tale of mystery in a small community, Thomas (Little Monsters) continues to demonstrate command of both the inner workings of a teenage mind and the anatomy of crime. Monica,16, is a junior in high school, a member of the dance team, and the younger sister of Jen, one of the five cheerleaders in their town of Sunnybrook who, five years earlier, died within the span of three weeks under suspicious circumstances. Monica is also recovering from a disastrous summer fling with an older man. While searching her stepfather's desk for his prescription painkillers, she stumbles upon a stash of letters that lead her to realize that the explanations given for the deaths of the five girls may not be true. Monica sets out on a quest to unearth what actually happened, enlisting the aid of Ginny, a young woman with a complicated past. Narrated in the distinct viewpoints of Monica-whose voice, unfortunately, is lackluster and even a bit shallow-and Jen, the novel brims with well-chosen, telling details in the tradition of strong psychological suspense that build toward a satisfying final chapter. Ages 14-up. Agent: Suzie Townsend, New Leaf Literary & Media (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up-In Monica's family, they don't talk about her older sister Jennifer's death. It's been years since five of Sunnybrook High School's most popular cheerleaders died in seemingly unconnected events, but Monica's family never really processed their grief. On the fifth anniversary of her sister's suicide, Monica discovers a pile of anonymous letters hidden in her stepfather's desk. These notes urge the police officer to reexamine the evidence, hinting that the deaths were all connected. Knowing her stepdad is ignoring the letters, Monica decides to delve into the subject herself, but soon her curiosity becomes an obsession, driving a wedge between herself and everyone she cares about. Monica and Jennifer's stories are told through alternating chapters, creating suspenseful cliff-hangers, but also a variation in pace and genre. Monica's sections speed along like a frenetic thriller as she teases out her sister's and the town's secrets, while Jennifer's chapters take on the quiet unease of a drama as she responds to first the betrayal and then the death of her friends. Following its characters' temperaments and decisions, the atmosphere is at times eerie, exciting, and even frightening. Though the realistic depictions of abuse and sexual violence might be too much for sensitive readers, the ending offers hope of healing through a dark, but empowering conclusion. -VERDICT This deliciously deceptive thriller and provocative drama is a must-have for high school libraries.-Leighanne Law, Scriber Lake High School, WA © Copyright 2018. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Five Sunnybrook cheerleaders, including Monica's older sister, died within a month of one another in three separate incidents: car accident, murder, suicide. Five years later, Monica finds her sister's phone and mysterious letters in her stepdad's desk. She suspects that the deaths weren't as clear-cut as they seemed--and that a killer is still on the loose. This dark and fast-paced thriller provides plenty of chills. (c) Copyright 2019. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Years after a series of horrific events left five young women from a cheerleading squad dead, the sister of one of them begins to suspect that justice has not been done.Sixteen-year-old Monica is beginning her school year recovering from terminating an unplanned pregnancy after having a summer fling with a guy in his 20s. The physical and emotional pain that she feels is only compounded by the five-year anniversary of her kind and caring older sister Jen's death. Jen died by suicide, seemingly in reaction to two of her friends' dying in a car accident and then, just weeks later, two others being brutally murdered by an obsessed neighbor, who was then shot and killed by Jen and Monica's police officer stepfather. However, Monica makes some discoveries that cause her to begin questioning this story, and she doggedly pursues each loose end she can find. The fantastical setup underpinning this contemporary mystery is intricate, and readers may struggle to keep track of all the characters as the narrative moves between the first-person present perspective of Monica and Jen's third-person flashbacks. Yet, it cleverly layers a veneer of doubt over each of the players in the story, effectively keeping the audience guessing until the very end. Monica and her family are white, and there is diversity in secondary characters.A busy, but satisfying, whodunnit with a solution as complicated as its premise. (Mystery. 14-18) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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This house was made for someone without a soul. So I guess it makes sense that my mother wanted it so badly. I can imagine how her eyes lit up when she walked through the five-­bedroom, three-­and-­a-­half-­bath new construction. I'll bet she thinks this house is the answer to what's wrong with us. When Tom, my stepfather, showed me the bathroom attached to my room with its own Jacuzzi tub, he said, Bet you feel like Cinderella, because he's an idiot. I should be happy for my mother and Tom, because the old house took so long to sell that it nearly destroyed their marriage. I should be thrilled I don't have to hear the words terrible real estate market and bad location ever again. Neither they nor the listing agent had the balls to come out and say that no one wanted to buy a home on the street of horrors. The worst thing about the new house is that there's no way to sneak into my room. The dining room is right off the front hall, so when I get home from dance team tryouts, I can see my mother at the table eating Chinese takeout with Tom and Petey, their "oops baby." Petey is ten now. Mom married Tom when I was five. When I was a kid, I overheard her telling my grandmother that she and Tom both were done with children. Mom had Jen and me, and Tom had a college-­aged daughter with his ex-­wife. Four months later, Mom was pregnant with Petey. So, totally an oops baby. "Monica," my mother calls. "We're eating dinner." In other words, Don't you try to disappear upstairs. I plod into the dining room, the smell of the takeout souring my stomach. Everything hurts: standing, walking, sitting. At the table, Petey is sucking up lo mein noodles. One slips from between his lips and falls on the screen of his iPad, because God forbid he perform a basic function such as eating without playing Clan Wars. "Petey," Mom says, "please put the game down." "But I have to harvest my crops." "Do you want the iPad to go in the garbage?" "You wouldn't throw an iPad in the garbage." "Peter." Petey's eyes go wide, because Mom only uses his full name when she's really about to lose her shit. I almost want to tell the poor kid it's not his fault that Mom is acting like a psycho. "Monica." Tom looks up from his phone, finally noticing me. He takes off his reading glasses and breathes on the lenses. Wipes them on his shirt. "How were tryouts?" "Fine." "The new Chinese place gave us extra fortune cookies!" Petey says, and I say, "Cool," which pretty much sums up the depth of my interactions with my half brother. Mom's eyes are on me. I keep my own eyes on a carton of white rice. I grab a plate and spoon some onto it. "What's wrong?" Petey asks. It takes a second for it to sink in that he's speaking to me. Tom is watching me now too. My mother makes a face as if she just swallowed down vomit. "Can I go lie down?" I ask. "Go ahead," she says. When I get to the hall, I hear Petey whine, "How come she gets to do what she wants?" I practically have to crawl up the stairs to my room. The over-­the-­counter painkillers my mom picked up for me are seriously garbage. I would call Matt, my ­ex-­boyfriend, because even though he denies it, he's friends with people who can get the strong stuff. But Matt graduated and he's not in Sunnybrook anymore and we haven't spoken since July. My heating pad is still packed in one of the storage tubs Mom and I bought from Bed Bath & Beyond before the move. I dig it out, biting my lip. The nurse at Dr. Bob's office said it would be like bad period cramps. But it hurts so badly I want to die. I break into a sweat from plugging in the heating pad and flop onto my brand-­new bed. King-­sized, like my mom and Tom's. She insisted--­the room would have looked too small with a queen. They say you're not supposed to put the pad directly on your skin, but I do it anyway and curl up on my side. I'd gladly take my flesh melting off over the pain in my gut. A knock at the door. I grunt and Mom pushes her way in, holding a bottle of naproxen and a glass of water. "When was the last time you took painkillers?" "Lunch," I lie. I popped four before tryouts. "You can have two more, then." Mom perches at the edge of my bed. She might as well be a mile away. It's really obscene, how big the bed is. I groan and pull my legs up tight to my body, into the fetal position. "I told you that you should have stayed home today." My mother taps the naproxen bottle to her palm, shakes two pills out. "Coach would have cut me from the team." I accept the pills. Swallow them greedily. Mom is quiet. She drums her fingers--­the nails rounded and coated with clear polish--­on my comforter. Her anxious tic. Finally: "Have you told Matt?" "No." I can't tell what she's thinking--­whether she actually wants me to call Matt at college and tell him. "He could support you," Mom says, after a beat. "You don't have to go through this alone." "It wasn't his anyway." I stare straight ahead so I don't have to see the look on her face. When she stands up, her profile comes into focus. She looks sad for a moment before she catches herself. "I hope you learn something from this pain." My mother shuts the light off on her way out--­or at least, she tries to. She can't find the switch at first, because it's opposite where it used to be in my old room. Finally, she gives up, leaving me under the glow of the top-­of-­the-­line energy-­efficient LED bulbs. She's wrong, I think. Pain isn't supposed to teach you anything. It only exists to hurt you. And she should know that better than anyone. Excerpted from The Cheerleaders by Kara Thomas All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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