AND SOMETIMES WHY

Farrell’s (Bradley and the Billboard, 1998, etc.) latest, about a young teenage boy who suddenly discovers that his best friend, a girl, has become not only a looker, but a looker with fabulous legs, is a thoroughly delightful confection. In the space of what seems like moments, Chris Moffett, a jock, has gone from wearing an old T-shirt that says “I stink therefore I ran” to a tennis outfit and makeup. Obviously from best friend Jack Jordan’s point of view, this abrupt departure from the familiar cannot be borne, and if it must be, certainly not with good grace. Besides, it’s disturbing to find your best buddy attractive. Poor Jack gets no comfort from his family either. His father recently moved out of the house, and his mother, once “the steadiest, most grounded individual” in Jack’s life, is so thrown by his departure that she seems to be on some kind of “extended sightseeing tour of La-La Land.” What’s fun about this, besides the fact that it’s witty and knowing, are the little, telling character details. For instance, when Chris’s dad, a construction worker turned hairdresser, pours himself some juice, Jack notices that even that tiny motion “crunched up his right biceps until it was roughly the size of a cantaloupe.” Farrell also has some perceptive things to say about the interplay between people’s expectations regarding love and friendship, but her observations are delivered with a generous dollop of humor and never feel forced or preachy. A winner. (Fiction. 10-12)