Booktalking Colorado - Full Booktalk Record

Booktalking Colorado Full Record:

	Title:	Ghost at the Window
	Author:	McAllister, Magaret
	Date Published:	2002
	Genre:	Thriller
	Grade Level:	6 - 7
	Booktalker:	Sam Marsh

Booktalk:
Everyone who ever lived at Ninian House was a wee bit odd, or fey, or just plain weird. At least that was the talk around town. That's what I (Ewan) heard when people didn't think I was listening. Oh not me, but my parents, they would say if they realized I overheard. I was a bit pleased and irritated at the same time. Irritated because they didn't know what they were talking about, and pleased because I did. Mom and dad are unusual, and a bit hard to live with...but they're just artistic. Its Ninian House that's weird. Located at the Scottish village of Loch Treen at one end of a long narrow stretch of water with a single-track road to it that ran between the hills and the rocky shore of the lock, stone-built Ninian House was a sturdy bastion against the elements. On the other hand, Ninian house sometimes forgot which century it was in. At any time, everything around me could take a step back in time. It never stayed for long, and the people in the other times never seemed to notice me. But, it make having friends over a bit awkward. Nevertheless, I loved it! Dad is Welsh and Mom's from Kent in England, and I was born when they were living in the Scottish Borders. So I guess I'm something in between--a Borderer. We've only lived here for six months, and mom was out somewhere, as usual...and would be back--um--sometime or other, as usual. She's a photographer/style consultant who is gone at all times of the day and night. Dad is an artist/sculptor, and as absentminded and spaced out as they come. So, I went up to my room, feeling as if I should knock on my own door, in case someone from the past was there. Which was silly since they never saw ME. Not this time though, it was still my room...until I changed from my school sweater into a more comfortable one. Just as I pulled the sweater over my head, I was in the past. On the far side of the bed there was a girl much younger than me...and she was looking directly at me as if she saw me. She was sad and pleading. Then, she stretched out her had toward me, "help me, Please, please, help me," she said. "What..." I began, but I was back in my own room, in my own time.