Excerpt: Violet Crunkley and the Truth About Pigeons by Lucy Greenburg
Chapter One
Two sisters. One problem.
Florence, being Florence, clapped her hands, whistled through her teeth and stomped her feet on the orange shag rug. “Coming soon!" she hooted. "Violet Crunkley, 2.0. The new and improved version!”
My big sister's worst habit. Trying to run my life.
I yawned.
“Violet, aren’t you listening? I’m about to give you a makeover!”
Wait. What?... A makeover?
“Gadzooks!” I popped up from behind my computer. “For real?”
“Of course, for real.”
With a shiver of delight, I grabbed a fistful of my corkscrew curls (the reason for my “Little Bo Peep” nickname). “How about a new do? And definitely new glasses. These make me look like a goldfish. And could you do something about my freckles?”
“Violet, don’t be an idiot.” Flo flounced onto my bean bag chair. “Not a makeover of your looks. A makeover of you.”
“Oh,” I said and fell back to earth. Sighing, I returned to my blueprints for human wings. Also known as Violet's Wings Flings—to be sold commercially once I figured out the glitsches.
Who had time for stupid makeovers, anyway?
“Really, Violet, don’t you want to fit in? Don’t you want to be like other kids?”
An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer, but I did know what Flo wanted to hear.
“I guess so.”
“Great.” Flo exhaled. ”We’re finally on the same page.” She tried to sit up. But, honestly, who can sit up in a bean bag chair?
“All you have to do is follow my instructions."
“Instructions for what?”
“Violet, keep up. Instructions on how to act… you know… normal."
It was the moment to laugh in my sister's face—only I was too curious.
Flo whipped out a piece of paper and read from it aloud. “Rule Number One: Quit saying ‘Gadzooks’. No one says ‘Gadzooks’
Exactly, I thought with pride. No one but yours truly.
“Also - no more five syllable words. You’re just showing off. From now on, three is the max. Four in emergencies.”
I tsked. How could Florence understand? Reading the entire works of Shakespeare changes a person, especially an eleven-year-old. At least, as far as vocabulary goes.
“Number three. Stop being an awards hog.” In unison, we swiveled our heads to my display case, located in the center of my bedroom for maximum viewing. Each shelf was as crowded as the stands at an Endless Hills High football game. Only instead of fans and cheerleaders, it was jam-packed with first place trophies and prizes. Math-a-thons, spelling bees, robot challenges, Junior Scientist Olympiads. I even had a trophy for a long-distance spitting contest.
“Y’know, Violet," said Flo, squinting at me hard, "there are kids all over Endless Hills, including your very own sister, who have never won first place in a single all-school contest. All because of you. It’s so unfair. Give someone else a chance.”
My face went red. I could feel the heat. “What!” I cried. “Throw a contest! Are you honestly telling me to cheat?” I glared at her. “We’re done here.”
Flo glared back. “Alright, Violet. Don’t say I didn’t try. From now on, you’re on your own.”
From now on? I had always been on my own. Didn’t my sister know that?
Flo freed herself from the bean bag chair. Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she marched out of my room and slammed the door behind her.
Ahhhh, the quiet.
I folded my arms on my desk and laid my head down. Without Flo in my face, I relaxed. Even though relaxing was dangerous. With my guard down, the familiar feeling was back. The feeling I had no name for.
Why can’t people understand? I squeezed my eyes shut. I don’t know how to be someone I’m not. Even if I did know, what I want is to be myself. Doesn’t everyone want that?”
At Endless Hills Elementary, I always made a point of helping my teachers by correcting their mistakes. And what did I get in return? Eye rolls, tired sighs, and even some snarls—when all I wanted was a simple thank you.
And the kids? Worse than the teachers. They had a million names for me. Nerdzilla. Dork-a-tron. Geek-head. Some had no idea my name was Violet.
Fine. I get it. Sometimes I make other people feel dumb, I told myself.
But was that really my fault?
“You’d think no one’s ever met a child genius before,” I said out loud to the empty room.
But in the little town of Endless Hills, population 2,000, no one ever had.
©Lucy A. Greenburg 2026