Finch House

Finch House

Encanto meets Coraline in this “supremely successful, atmospheric” ( Kirkus Reviews ) middle grade story that deals with family ties, fear of change, and generational trauma as it follows a girl who must convince an old, haunted house to release its hold on her and her family. Eleven-year-old Micah has no interest in moving out of her grandfather’s house. She loves living with Poppop and their shared hobby of driving around rich neighborhoods to find treasures in others’ trash. To avoid packing, Micah goes for a bike ride and ends up at Finch House, the decrepit Victorian that Poppop says is Off Limits. Except when she gets there, it’s all fixed up and there’s a boy named Theo in the front yard. Surely that means Finch House isn’t Off Limits anymore? But when Poppop finds her there, Micah is only met with his disappointment. By the next day, Poppop is nowhere to be found. After searching everywhere, Micah’s instincts lead her back to Finch House. But once Theo invites her inside, Micah realizes she can’t leave. And that, with its strange whispers and deep-dark shadows, Finch House isn’t just a house…it’s alive. Can Micah find a way to convince the house to let her go? Or will she be forced to stay in Finch House forever? ** "Burch’s debut is cohesive, fast paced, and thoughtful about the racial challenges of the past and how they may haunt the present." -- Booklist , starred review "A supremely successful, atmospheric tale of horror." -- Kirkus "Deftly utilizing a haunted house framework to explore the weight of intergenerational trauma, debut author Burch’s chilling tale recalls the sinister atmospherics of Coraline , while its thought-provoking ending enhances spare, poetic storytelling." -- Publishers Weekly "FINCH HOUSE is a thought-provoking and layered haunted house story that will spark meaningful discussions about family, forgiveness, and what it means to truly coexist." -- Lindsay Currie, author of The Girl in White and Scritch Scratch . Ciera Burch is a lifelong writer and ice cream aficionado. She has a BA from American University and an MFA from Emerson College. Her fiction has appeared in The American Literary Magazine , Underground , Five Points , Stork , and Blackbird . Her work was also chosen as the 2019 One City One Story read for the Boston Book Festival. While she is originally from New Jersey, she currently resides in Washington, DC, with her stuffed animals, plants, and far too many books. Visit Ciera at CieraBurch.com. Chapter One chapter one Micah was, she reassured herself, faster than a garbage truck. She had to be, or she’d woken up early for nothing. Besides, she wanted that bookshelf. Sitting on the curb in front of a small white house, it was the most colorful thing on the snow-covered street—bright purple with yellow and pink flowers painted down its side. It matched the new bedspread her mom had bought her perfectly, which meant it would look great in her new room. If she managed to outrun the garbage truck. “Wait!” she yelled as it came to a stop. The garbage woman, dressed in a bright yellow vest, making her the second most colorful thing on the street, frowned at Micah as she stopped too. It took all her balance to keep from toppling over into the nearest snow pile as she leaned over to catch her breath. “Sorry.” She panted. “One sec. I just need…” She gestured into the air as if what she needed—breath, energy, more sleep—could be found in it. “I don’t have all day, girl,” the garbage woman said. She looked more confused than annoyed, but Micah didn’t want to give her time to cross that line. She straightened up quickly, readjusting her coat. “Right! So, um.” She bit her lip. She didn’t know how to say “Don’t take the trash even though that’s your job because I want it.” This wasn’t usually how networking went for her and Poppop. Usually, they were up early enough to beat the garbage trucks, or they came the night before garbage day, when all the things on the curb were newly banished from whatever houses they’d been in. But she’d begged him to bring her out this morning. Anything to avoid packing up the rest of her room. Anything to spend a little more time with him. She’d spent most of the eleven years she’d been alive living at his house: going networking, or “digging through other people’s trash,” as her mom liked to tease, on weekends and riding shotgun in his pickup truck after school. And now she was moving a whole hour away. But she couldn’t tell the garbage woman all that. Not when she looked ready to toss her in the back of the truck along with everything else. Instead, she blurted out, “I like trash.” The garbage woman nodded slowly. “So, do you want future career advice, or…?” “No! I mean, no, thank you.” She pointed to the bookshelf. “I just want that particular bit of trash. For my room. Please.” Laughing, the garbage woman walked around and hefted the bookshelf onto her shoulder. Micah’s heart sank.