Read the book that critics say is “engaging, often humorous, [and] sure to titillate many readers!” (The U. S.

Review of Books)Take the mound in Foul Territory, the second volume of the Chronicle of Calvin Connor!Putting Camp Souviens (and the demise of Troop 666) behind him, Calvin Connor focuses on finishing high school. But his latest choices pull him back into the spotlight, like that one time on Sean Corgan's front yard .

. .

Calvin falls in love with Kitty Howe, the only blind student at Axsubeen High, creating a celebrity couple that’s the talk of the town. His friendship/rivalry with Art Maguire reaches a fulcrum point over (of all things) vocabulary.

And Calvin’s destiny as a major league sensation begins in earnest after a heated moment in the high school cafeteria. If only the little wanker hadn’t brought an orange in for lunch that day .

. .

No work of fiction has ever captured the rivalry of teen boys, the agony of Algebra tests, and the intoxicating sting of a hit of Binaca right before you put a move on a girl quite like this one. Packed with “Sex, drinking and drugs, parties, school issues and more sex,” Foul Territory exposes the “inner and outer workings of a teen’s mind” (the U.

S. Review of Books).

(from Ch. 14)Former Pennsylvania Railroad sidings dotted the borough, train tracks that had served coal mines and farms in Axsubeen’s halcyon days.

The tracks behind Schultz’s Farm Market still had rotting ties and rusty rails. Kitty followed Calvin’s lead with her left hand on his shoulder.

“You have a jingle bell? Like from a Christmas decoration. Sew it on this.

” She tugged at the yucky scarf of many colors around his neck. “It’ll jingle-jangle like a dog collar!”“Exactly.

Stop here. Listen to them.

”He stopped. They’d gone fifty feet from the Farm Market, facing a meadow.

All he heard was Rte. 666 and tires crunching on parking lot gravel.

“Filter out the noise,” she said. “Your mom says you never hear anything she says.

Do it here. You totally can.

It’s in Filipinos 4:13. ”“You mean ‘Philippians?’”“Whatever.

‘I have the strength to do anything through him who empowers me. ’”“Ooh that’s a good one, gotta rememb—”“Look it up later, now hush! They're chatting.

Listen!”Feeling silly, he shut his eyes to experience this as Kitty did … and immediately heard them. “Ah!” he said, opening his eyes and finally beholding them: crows, standing out in the field, making little warbly calls.

She hugged his arm. “You know what a family of crows is called? A ‘murder.

’ This is a murder of crows. ”“Oh what bollocks!”They listened to the crows make little rwrk! sounds to each other as they pecked about the bracken meadow for grub.

“Sounds like they’re gossiping about us,” he said. “Yep.

Crows are like nature’s police department. The murder keeps tabs on each other with that rwrk! noise.

The other call they do, the caw!, that’s like a siren, letting everyone know there’s danger around. ”“Us two are right near them—humans, mankind, rulers of the animal kingdom.

And they don’t even care. ”“We are no threat and they know it.

” She fetched his hand and squeezed it. “Daddy says one crow always sits way up high to be the scout.

He protects the others while they eat. ”“Oh, like a lookout,” he said, and felt dumb.

Lookout was, obviously, a sighted word. He scanned the trees.

“Ah!” he said again, spotting a crow perched up a leafless maple. The lad peered over his shoulder.

He was both surprised and not so to see Kitty’s da by the farm market’s picnic tables, keeping his distance, keeping an eye on his daughter. “Daddy’s being my crow scout,” she sighed.

“How—”“My parents. They always stick close to me.

I hate it. ”.