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Scholastic Press / New York

Copyright 2017 by Ira Bloom

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are e ither the product
of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to a ctual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Bloom, Ira (Ira Mitchell), 1959author.

Title: Hearts & other body parts / Ira Bloom.
Other titles: Hearts and other body parts
Description: New York, NY : Scholastic Press, [2017] | Summary: There are two new boys
at Middleton High: Norman, who is eight-feet-tall and looks like he was put together
after an accident, and Zack, the impossibly handsome transfer from Europe, and soon the
three witch sisters, Esme, Katy, and Ronnie, are in an all out competition for Zacks
attentionbut Esme is also drawn to Norman, and he is the only one who seems to
notice that students who go off alone with Zack seem to suffer from amnesia, or
disappear entirely.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016037798 | ISBN 978-1-338-03073-0 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: VampiresJuvenile fiction. | MonstersJuvenile fiction. | Witches
Juvenile fiction. | Dating (Social customs)Juvenile fiction. | MagicJuvenile fiction. |
High schoolsJuvenile fiction. | Detective and mystery stories. | CYAC: Mystery and
detective stories. | VampiresFiction. | MonstersFiction. | WitchesFiction. | Dating
(Social customs)Fiction. | MagicFiction. | High schoolsFiction. | Schools
Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | LCGFT: Detective and mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.B636 He 2017 | DDC 813.6 [Fic] dc23 LC record available

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 17 18 19 20 21

Printed in the U.S.A. 23

First edition, April 2017

Book design by Nina Goffi

For Isabella, a limitless source of material

Oh. My. Goddess, said Katy as all the noise in the cafeteria sud-
denly died.
Veronica, her younger sister, looked up from her compact, in
which shed been studying her reflection with a g reat deal of fasci-
nation. Wow, she affirmed. Thats Did you see
him, Esme?
Esmeralda, the oldest, did not look up from her book. His
name is Norman. Hes in two of my classes so far, she said. Dont
gape, Ronnie, youre being rude.
Veronica attempted to avert her gaze, but it was like looking
away from a wall: He took up most of her line of sight. Thats the
most horrible...I mean, what happened to him? It looks like
he got all mangled up in some farm machinery or something.
She tried to appear interested in her salad but her fork shook
noticeably as she raised it to her lips.
The three sisters made e very effort not to gawk. The other
students in the cafeteria werent as polite. What started as a
hushed, shocked silence at the boys appearance and almost comi-
cal attempts to look away soon became a low murmur with clan-
destine glances in his direction, and finally escalated into overt

ogling and chatter. Unkind words were heard over the cafeteria
cacophony. Some students even brandished cell phones, taking
pictures and posting them.
The new boy waded through the tide of ridicule and hostility
with remarkable dignity, Esme observed. He was carrying a lunch
tray and looking for a place to sit. Students w ere hunching their
shoulders and spreading out, circling the wagons around their
tables. Esme tried not to look but was as guilty as anyone else of
stealing glances.
It wasnt the boys face that drew so much attention. He had
dysmorphic features within a frame of ghastly scars, a bulging
brow, and a large, square jaw. But that wasnt why people w ere
staring. He had one green eye mismatched to a walleyed brown
one, and the odd pallor of his skin made him look like a walking
corpse, but that was hardly even worth mentioning. He walked
with a pained, shuffling gait, a complex contraption of a brace on
his left leg, and his left shoe was orthopedic, two inches thicker
than the other, his legs entirely asymmetrical. But even that
wasnt his most freakish attribute.
It was the sheer immensity of the boy, the impossible scale of
him, which would have earned him top billing at any carnival
sideshow in the land. He was easily seven and a half feet tall and
probably closer to eight, Esme estimated, b ecause he hunched him-
self over and drew in his elbows, like he was trying to make
himself appear somehow smaller, somehow less visible. As if he
could. His hands were enormous, his legs like trees. Esme did a
quick calculation and decided there was easily over four hundred
pounds to him.
The giant shuffled toward three sophomore girls occupying a
table for eight, knapsacks scattered over the empty seats. There

was fear in their eyes, that he would ask to sit there, of social
ostracism by association, humiliation, cooties, and possible dis-
memberment by a monster in their own school. He bent low and
made a quiet request of one of the girls. She gathered up her knap-
sack to give him space. He placed his lunch tray down and hoisted
one enormous leg over the bench. The table looked like doll furni-
ture u nder him. Before he could sit down, all three girls had bolted,
taking their trays and bags and books with them, as if theyd all
suddenly remembered somewhere else they urgently needed to be.
Disgusting, Esme declared. Absolutely revolting.
Esmeralda Silver! Katy said. You dont know a t hing about
Not him, Katy. Us. Everyone. But especially uswe should
know better. Were all so judgmental and intolerant. Somebody
has to do something.
The sisters observed the new student in quick glances. He was
picking at the food on his tray, a ludicrously small serving for a boy
his size. Esme discerned the mortification in his expression despite
the false bravado.
Dont look at me, Veronica said. This is my first week of
high school, I cant be seen...I mean, maybe if we all went...
Wed overwhelm the poor thing, Katy supposed. I guess...
it should be me, right? I mean, weird is my department.
Esme stood. No, Ill go, she said. She gathered her book bag.
Hes in my grade.

Do you mind if I sit here? the girl asked.

An attractive girl with horn-rimmed glasses slid onto the
bench opposite Norman Stein and proceeded to unpack her lunch.

Which was rather unanticipated. Norman h adnt exactly come
into a new school in a new town expecting to be welcomed with
open arms. He knew what he looked like.
Not at all, he replied. He was self-conscious about the fact
that his legs took up the entire space beneath the table and pressed
up against the opposite bench, so she was forced to sit kitty-corner
from him. He drew his elbows in closer to his sides. Did you
draw the short straw? he asked, regretting it almost before the
words were out of his mouth.
The girls lips tightened, then a faint blush of embarrassment
came to her cheeks, followed closely by an eyebrow raised in
acknowledgment. Fair enough, she said. You saw me with my
sisters. You knew we w ere talking about you. You d
ont know me.
But the fact is, we all wanted to come and sit with you. We just
didnt want to overwhelm you.
Im sorry. I shouldnt be so cynical about p eoples
The girl smiled at him. Im Esme Silver. We have AP calculus
and biology together. Welcome to Middleton High. Go
Norm, he replied. He smiled back at her. Short for normal

Esme thought he looked a bit less freakish when he smiled, the

teeth good, the asymmetry wry but earnest. On behalf of the rest
of humanity, Id like to apologize for my fellow students. T heyre
all jerks, obviously.
Norman shrugged his immense shoulders in a rolling motion
like tectonic plates shifting. Im not fussy. As long as they arent

coming after me with pitchforks and torches. His scarf slipped a
bit as he shrugged, and he was quick to readjust it, but not fast
Oh, said Esme, embarrassed for him. Are t hose...?
Yeah, he confessed, a bit bitterly. As if the rest of this w erent
bad enough, I have bolts in my neck. Im getting them out in
November, though.
I-I know, right? she stammered. I just got my braces off last
summer, and I swear I d idnt smile for two years.
He nodded. You must have felt hideous.
Esme surveyed the remains of her sandwich, alternating
between self-loathing and indignation. Was he mocking her? Was
that sarcasm? Around them, other students were still discussing
him, and she picked up words like monster, Halloween mask,
and Frankenstein. Except, now, she heard her own name added
to the mix.
You know, she said, when she became so self-conscious
about her silence she felt awkward, youre actually not half
Really? Which half? he asked.
It was somehow reassuring, that he could joke about his con-
dition. Its not all in one place. A little bit h
ere, a little bit there,
but all put together...not half bad-looking.
Good t hing you d idnt see me before it was all put together,
he said.


Barry Silver was fishing a ham hock out of a pot of sixteen-bean

soup when daughters one and two entered the kitchen and
started opening cupboards. Youd like him, Katy, I promise,
Esme said. He has this dark, self-deprecating sense of humor, like
I d ont know, Katy hedged. Everyones hating on him. I
mean, Im a big fan of weird, but seriously? Bolts in the neck?
Who has bolts in their neck?
Think of it as cutting-edge body modification, Esme said.
By next year, everybody could be wearing them. Just sit with us
at lunch tomorrow.
Barry looked up from the cutting board. You two are talking
about Franklin, arent you. Did you meet him? Hes supposed to
start at your school this semester.
No, Dad, Katy replied, with a tone of exasperation shed
honed from constantly having to explain stuff to the most clueless
father in the universe. Its this kid named Norman. Youd know
him if you saw him, hes, like, eight feet tall.
Right, Franklin Norman Stein. I guess he goes by Norman.
His father is Doctor Frederick Steinhe teaches neuroscience at

the university in the city. Brilliant man. He hired me on retainer.
Heck of a nice boy, Franklin. And very smart. Barry scooped up
the chopped meat and returned it to the pot to boil. He discarded
the fat and saved the bones for Katys dogs.
Wait a minute, Katy said. Franklin Stein?
FrankN. Stein, if you want to be technical, Esme noted. Is
there anything e lse we need to know about him, Dad? Like, did
his father build him in a lab?
Thats not very nice, Barry said. I can see why he prefers to
use his m iddle name. Hes just a regular kid whos had some pretty
severe health problems. Be nice to him, okay?
Of course, Dad. We d ont care about appearances. Esme
went to the stove and lifted the lid off the pot of bean soup. This
smells good, I think Ill have some. You d idnt put too much salt
in it, did you? With your blood pressure?
What kind of health problems? asked Katy. How come he
looks like that?
I c ant tell you much, Barry said. Confidentiality.
Can you tell us why Dr.Stein hired you? Esme asked.
Just as a preemptive measure. Hes afraid his sons civil rights
will be violated. Norman has had to change schools several times
in the last two years. Apparently, hes a magnet for bullying. And
he ends up getting suspended or kicked out of school b ecause the
administration always stereotypes him as the aggressor because
of his appearance and size.
Katy dropped an armload of salad vegetables onto the center
island of the kitchen. Who in the world would be stupid enough
to bully somebody that big?
I believe him, Esme said. He i snt the type to instigate stuff.
You saw the reaction he got today in the cafeteria.

He could totally crush anyone, Katy insisted. All he has to
do is fall on them.
Barry shook his head. He told me hes a bleeding-heart
pacifist. He hates violence. And he has so many ongoing health
issues, hes actually very vulnerable. I hope you girls will go to the
principal if you see anyone bullying him.
Dont worry, Dad, Esme promised. Nobodys going to mess
with Norman this time. Ive got his back.
No hexing now, Barry warned.
Dad. Please. Cogitationis poenam nemo patitur. Thinking
about d oing it doesnt make me guilty.
Ad avizandum, he replied.
Esme found her father much easier to deal with, since s hed
gone to the trouble of studying some of his old law books and
memorizing a few Latin terms.

Esmes room in the cellar was homey and always ten degrees cooler
than the rest of the house, but in late August it was pleasant.
There was a cat door at ground level, two feet below the ceiling.
There was a monstrous carpet-covered cat structure with hideouts
and clawing posts that topped out to a platform just below the cat
door, so Esmes cats could come and go at will, and there was no
need for litter boxes and all the associated odors.
Esme put out some dry food for the cats and went to her com-
puter for a half hour, browsing Amazon for new releases. It was
the first week of school and t here was no homework. She retrieved
a volume from the huge freestanding bookshelf, packed with
books that seemed to gravitate from e very corner of the h
ouse to
Esmes room, then relaxed into the comfy chair to read. Murasaki

was first on her lap, the prize spot, which annoyed Mandela, who
sulked on a platform of the cat structure, glaring at Esme accus-
ingly as if to say You let that lowlife sit on your lap? Youre dead to
me. Mandela and Murasaki had territorial issues. Kali sat on the
arm of the chair; Charlie took the comfortable spot on the otto-
man, curved against her feet; and Esme, in her element, settled
in to read a book about the life of Rikyu, the sixteenth-century
Japanese tea master.
All was peaceful for an hour until Kasha returned, strutting
through the cat door like he owned the place. Kasha jumped
onto the ottoman and walked straight onto Esmes lap, chasing
Murasaki away with an angry hiss. Charlie gave up his spot
Where have you been all night? Esme asked Kasha, scratch-
ing him behind the ears. He kneaded her lap, digging claws, and
purred in response.
Out by the barn, he said, his voice raspy. Theres a female
out there, I can smell her.
Ill bet that big earless Tom is keeping her to himself. You
better stay away from him, his neck is huge.
Im not afraid of him. Id eat him, but I d ont care for cat.
Kasha dug his claws in deeper.
Hey! Esme protested. I said no more clawing! She reached
behind her back and pulled out the pillow, which she placed on
her lap for protection.
I love the feel of my claws sinking into your flesh. Its so soft,
like gopher bellies. Kasha climbed up onto the pillow, advancing
up Esmes chest and putting his front paws on her clavicles, so
he could sniff her breath. Youre eating pig corpses, and y oure
feeding us dry food, he accused.

Do you want some tuna? she offered. It was a bit extrava-
gant, but hey...a talking cat. Even in a house full of witches, it
wasnt something you came across every day. Or ever, even. If
Katy only knew, shed shut up about her stupid dogs.
Kasha jumped down off the chair and made toward the cat
structure, and outside. I ate already, he said dismissively, as if he
were insulted by the notion of eating perfectly good tuna out of a
can. Kasha stopped and tensed, as if to poop. He started heaving,
throwing his entire body into it as he hacked up something
huge onto the kilim rug.
Not on the rug! Esme yelled, standing quickly to try to push
Kasha onto a bit of bare floor, too late. Something large slid out
in mid-heave, mummified in hair and accompanied by some vis-
ceral liquid, like a stillborn baby being ejected in a rush of amni-
otic fluid.
Gophers, Kasha said, taking a tentative step away from the
mess on the rug. Cant lay off em, cant keep em down. Clean that
up for me, w ill ya, baby? Im gonna cut out. And then he was up
the cat structure and out the cat door and into the night.