Wright Adventures of TOBY BAXTER

THE RIVER ELF, THE GIANT, AND THE CLOSET
1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-1-6678-4964-5
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 192 Seiten

He's ready to leave kid-dom behind. But can he stand tall against an army of barf-inducing beasts? Toby Baxter can't wait to be a teenager. On the cusp of turning thirteen, the superhero-obsessed boy's jaw drops when a baffling stranger appears and begs him for help. But when he's led through a portal on a whirlwind trip to a magical land, he's terrified to be plunged mid-battle between elves and a legion of stinky trolls. Bewildered and queasy, Toby is confused when his new friends claim he is the hero who will lead them to victory. And now only his dangerous quest to retrieve a legendary slaying sword can save his skin... and turn the tide of war. Can this newly minted teen become a real warrior and rise up as the strange realm's savior? The Adventures of Toby Baxter: The River Elf, The Giant, and the Closet is a high-flying middle grade fantasy. If you like daring journeys, hilarious characters, and heartfelt lessons about confidence, then you'll love Tim Wright's timeless tale.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Wright, Tim

Leseproben

CHAPTER 1 Toby Baxter Sees Things The Hobbit. By J.R.R. Tolkien Toby Baxter opened the book. He read the first line. Something about a hobbit living in a hole in the ground. He sighed. Then he yawned. Toby Baxter hated reading books. It’s not that he wasn’t a good reader. It’s not that he didn’t like to read. Unlike many of his friends who spent their free time playing video games, Toby spent much of his free time reading comic books. Marvel comic books. His favorite Marvel Hero was The Amazing Spider-Man with Captain America a close second. His room seemingly overflowed with comic books and graphic novels, most of them well worn from being read multiple times. His friends, though not avid readers, were excited about reading The Hobbit as a class assignment. Most of them had read at least some of the Harry Potter series and a few of the Percy Jackson books. Toby had tried them, too. But books take too long to get to the point. Books take too long to read. Comic books start with a bang and don’t let up until the end. And you can read them in a few sittings. Books are boring. Why can’t comic books count as reading? Take the Wimpy Kid books, for example. A book written in the form of a comic book. And funny, too! Toby closed the book and looked out the window. It was the last hour of the last day of the school week. A good time for daydreaming. A beautiful October fall afternoon. The leaves just starting to turn colors. Through the second-floor classroom window he could see the acorn trees lining the sidewalk and street just in front of the school. Across the street was the football/soccer field. And beyond the field ran another street with houses built back in the 1950’s. Old houses. Older than his grandfather was. Before Grandpa died. As he stared out the window a movement caught his eye down below. A little boy was running on the sidewalk in front of the school. Nothing unusual about that. But just as Toby was about to look out across the field again the boy stopped—right below Toby. He looked straight up at Toby, his eyes wide with… fear? Intensity? He was the strangest little boy Toby had ever seen. He appeared to be about four to five feet tall, at least from Toby’s vantage point on the second floor. His hair was curly brown. His clothes seemed out of place for a boy so young. They looked like the kind of clothes one might wear in a fantasy novel when headed out on a long quest. The colors appeared to be a mix of forest green and brown with a splash of yellow, perhaps made of leather, although it was hard to tell from that distance. His feet were furry. Were those really his feet? His stomach seemed a bit large for a little boy. And his face… it didn’t look like a little boy face. It was the face… of a grown man! It was such a freaky sight that Toby almost jumped out of his desk seat. The boy… the man… whatever he was… seemed to be looking over his shoulder and then back at Toby. He was mouthing something. And Toby immediately knew what he was saying because, making matters even weirder, the man’s/boy’s words were printed above his head as he spoke, almost like in a comic book: Toby Baxter! It’s your time! We need you! “Toby!... Toby!... Toby Baxter!” A hand touched his shoulder and this time he did jump. He looked up at his teacher, Mrs Grayson. “Toby, you seemed miles away.” Toby looked up at Mrs Grayson, trying to get his bearings. He looked back out the window but the boy—the man—was gone. Mrs Grayson leaned over and whispered almost conspiratorially: “Were you thinking about your big birthday party tomorrow?” Mrs Grayson was not only his English literature teacher. She was also his mom’s best friend. She always knew too much about Toby and his mom knew too much about how he was doing in English Lit. Not very convenient. Toby was turning thirteen on Saturday. He was having a big Marvel- themed costume party. He would be dressing up as The Amazing Spider-Man. Because he was turning thirteen, he could invite twelve friends to the party. So far he knew Thor, Black Panther, Captain Marvel, and Black Widow would be there. And Batman. His dad insisted on dressing up as Batman. The Batman from some ancient 1960’s TV show that Grandpa Baxter used to watch when he was a kid, and apparently Dad watched in re-runs. Whatever! He didn’t know what the rest of his friends would choose as their heroes. “Even though it’s your birthday tomorrow, remember to read the first three chapters of The Hobbit by Monday! Happy Birthday.” Toby picked up his copy of The Hobbit and paged through to the end of chapter three. Sixty-three pages! Sigh! Then the bell rang. School was finally over. Toby stuffed The Hobbit into his backpack and ran down the hall, through the doors, and raced toward his bike. He threw on his helmet, climbed onto the bike, and headed north. He rode past the big park with the huge round water tower in the middle of it. He carefully looked both ways as he crossed one street, and then another, before he rode the short, gradual block-long incline to his house. His house was built on a slight hill near the end of a cul-de-sac, perfect for playing baseball. The “ground floor” of the house sat on the top of the small hill. The garage and front door to the house faced the street. The basement, finished off a few years ago by his grandpa (his mom’s dad) and his dad, emptied out into a big backyard at the bottom of the hill. Toby’s parents had moved to the Minneapolis area from Arizona when Toby was little to be close to Grandpa and Grandma Baxter. Toby had no memories of Arizona, although he, inspired by and along with his dad, cheered for the Arizona sports teams. Toby parked his bike in the garage and ran into the house. He could smell the fresh baked cookies as he opened the door. His mom knew he loved chocolate chip cookies made with chocolate cookie dough. She always had them hot and ready every Friday after school. With two cookies already stuffed into his mouth his mom asked him how his day was. “Mnmnmnm,” he mumbled, a few bits of cookie flying out of his mouth. “Your dad will be home in an hour or so to help you decorate for the party. I know the last thing you want to do is homework, but you’ll be busy all day tomorrow with your birthday party. And on Sunday Grandma Baxter is coming over for birthday breakfast. So, after you’re done with your cookies, why don’t you go into your room and spend twenty minutes reading from The Hobbit. Robin, I mean Mrs Grayson, said you need to read through chapter three by Monday.” Inconvenient! After Toby wolfed down five cookies and a glass of milk he headed to his bedroom, which was through the door right off the kitchen. He loved his room. His bed sat next to the window, which looked down on the backyard. The yard was big enough to play soccer, with two acorn trees at the end of the yard standing like a pair of goal posts. The neighbors to the right had a big fence around their yard, which was a good thing because they had two mean dogs. They’d lost a few soccer balls to those dogs. To the left the yards gradually moved up the hill with no fences, providing lots of space for hide and seek. At the end of the backyard the neighbor behind them had installed a small chain-link fence with bushes all along it to provide a bit of privacy and to stop flying soccer balls. Toby’s room was fairly small but big enough for a single bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a little desk for doing homework. It had a small closet that held some of his clothes and lots of his stuff. The room had two doors, one leading into the kitchen and the other into the bathroom hallway. The walls were covered with Spider-Man posters. His dad’s friend managed the local Cineplex at the mall. He usually gave Toby’s dad the Spider-Man movie posters once the movies were done with their first run. Toby had two of the Toby McGuire movie posters, one of the Andrew Garfield posters (autographed!) and the Tom Holland Homecoming poster. He had room for one or two more if he got creative. His pride and joy, however, were the bookshelves attached to the wall over his desk, piled high with Marvel comic books. At last count he had over 150, collected over the last five years. He’d read every one of them, most of them many times, to make sure he was keeping up with the various storylines. He felt himself being pulled toward the latest Captain America comic book, but he resisted the temptation. He had work to do before his dad got home. He pulled The Hobbit out of his backpack and sat down on his bed, propped up by Thor and Black Panther pillows. He opened the book, sighed, and began to read. More accurately, he skimmed and skipped his way through the assigned pages. Until he got to the part describing hobbits. Hobbits, according to Tolkien, were about half the height of humans, with larger stomachs and shoeless feet covered with curly hair! Toby stopped reading. His mind raced back to the little boy—man— he’d seen in...