Mitchell Brant–A Reluctant Hero

At the start of The Eye-Dancers, seventh-grader Mitchell Brant would be quick to tell anyone who’d listen that he is a hero.  But deep down, when being honest with himself, he’d more likely admit he falls far short of what he aspires to be.  The thing with Mitchell is, he’s one of those perpetual storytellers–liars, to call a spade a spade.  He can’t seem to help it.  Maybe it’s because he’s not popular at school or that he becomes tongue-tied around girls.  Whatever the reason, he is quick to invent stories about himself–such as how he ran the mile in four-and-a-half minutes last fall, or threw a baseball ninety-two-miles-per-hour last summer.  Few people believe him anymore–but he just can’t stop himself.  And when people do doubt the truth of his claims, he defends them with tenacity and passion.

Why defend a lie?  As Mitchell points out himself in the opening chapter, he’s not necessarily defending a “lie” per se.  He’s defending what he hopes to be someday, he’s reaching for the stars and trying so hard to grab onto his dreams.  Can’t anyone understand?

Well, maybe a little girl with blue, spinning eyes can–the girl he dreams of three nights in a row.  The girl who haunts his sleep.  Who is she?  What does she want with him?  Mitchell must find out, and when he does, he must confront not only the truth about the girl, but also the truth about himself.  And he won’t be alone.

His best friend, Joe Marma, is going along for the ride, too . . .

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