Dustbin Baby (Hardback) [Hardcover]

April Showers (so called because of her birth date, April 1st, and her tendency to burst into tears at the drop of a hat) was unceremoniously dumped in a rubbish bin when she was only a few hours old. Her young life has so far passed by in a blur of ever-changing foster homes, but as she enters her teens she decides it is time to find out the truth about her real family.

As ever, Wilson breaks through the barriers and brings one of her trademark feisty females to life in an original, unforgettable and often very funny story that is sure to make you weep. And as usual, Wilson tackles the big emotional issues with one foot firmly on the ground, allowing her characters to thrive against a backdrop of sadness without once lapsing into melodrama and schmaltz and ultimately showering the readers with an overwhelming feeling of hope.

Everyone who appreciates fantastic writing should read this book. Age 9 and over --Susan Harrison

Biography for Jacqueline Wilson

JACQUELINE WILSON is an extremely well-known and hugely popular author. THE ILLUSTRATED MUM was chosen as British Children’s Book of the Year in 1999 and was winner of the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award 2000. Jacqueline has won the prestigious Smarties Prize and the Children’s Book Award for DOUBLE ACT, which was also highly commended for the Carnegie Medal. Jacqueline was awarded an OBE in 2002.

* 'A brilliant young writer of wit and subtlety' THE TIMES

* 'Hugely popular with seven to ten year olds: she should be prescribed for all cases of reading reluctance' INDEPENDENT ON SUNDAY

* 'Has a rare gift for writing lightly and amusingly about emtional issues' BOOKSELLER

Biography for Nick Sharratt

Nick Sharratt has written and illustrated many books for children and won numerous awards for his picture books, including the Sheffield Children's Book Award and the 2001 Children's Book Award. He has also enjoyed great success illustrating Jacqueline Wilson books. Nick lives in Brighton.

I sit here in the warm, waiting. I can't eat anything. My mouth is too dry to swallow properly. I try sipping water. The glass clanks against my teeth. My hand is trembling. I put the glass down carefully and then clasp my hands tight. I squeeze until my nails dig in. I need to feel it. I need to know that this is real
I think people are staring at me, wondering why I'm all on my own. But not for much longer.
Please come now.
Please.
I look out the window, seeing my own pale reflection. And then there's a shadow. Someone stares back at me. And then smiles.
I smile too, though the tears are welling in my eyes. Why do I always have to cry? I mop at my face fiercely with a napkin. When I look back the window is empty.
`April?'
I jump. I look up.
`April, is it really you?
I nod, still crying. I get clumsily to my feet. We look at each other and then our arms go out. We embrace, hugging each other close, even though we are strangers.
`Happy birthday!'
`This is the best birthday ever,' I whisper.
It's nearly over - and yet it's just beginning.

1

I always hate my birthdays. I don't tell anyone that. Cathy and Hannah would think me seriously weird. I try so hard to fit in with them so they'll stay friends with me. Sometimes I try too hard and I find myself copying them.
It's OK if I just yell `Yay!' like Cathy or dance hunched-up Hannah-style. Ordinary friends catch habits from each other easily enough. But every now and then I overstep this mark in my eagerness. I started reading exactly the same books as Cathy until she spotted what I was doing.
`Can't you choose for yourself, April?' she said. `Why do you always have to copy me?'
`I'm sorry, Cathy.'
Hannah got irritated too when I started styling my hair exactly like hers, even buying the same little slides and bands and beads.
`This is my hairstyle, April,' she said, giving one of my tiny beaded plaits a tug.
`I'm sorry, Hannah.'
They've both started sighing whenever I say sorry.
`It's kind of creepy,' said Cathy. `You don't have to keep saying sorry to us.'
`We're your friends,' said Hannah.
They are my friends and I badly want them to stay my friends. They're the first nice normal friends I've ever had. They think I'm nice and normal too, give or take a few slightly strange ways. I'm going to do my best to keep it like that. I'm never going to tell them about me. I'd die if they found out.
I've got so good at pretending I hardly know I'm doing it. I'm like an actress. I've had to play lots and lots of parts. Sometimes I'm not sure if there's any real me left. No, the real me is this me, funny little April Showers, fourteen years old. Today.