Georgie Summers and the Scribes of Scatterplot: A Novel - Hardcover

Isaac Rudansky

Hardcover

ISBN 13: 9798886453164

Publisher: Greenleaf Book Group, 2025

Synopsis

#1 AMAZON BEST SELLER

“An unforgettable journey that explores the power of belief and the magic that lies just beyond our world.” — Neil Blair, J.K. Rowling’s literary agent and Pottermore Director

Exciting CRACK THE CODE adventure inside! Each and every reader who deciphers the hidden clue in each chapter will be entered to win incredible prizes and giveaways!

In a world where fiction is a crime, young Georgie Summers must write a story to save everyone he loves …

When twelve-year-old Georgie Summers isn’t cooking dinner for his sick dad or trying to survive middle school bullies, you’ll find him in his backyard, slingshot in hand, nailing soda cans from 200 feet out … probably the only sixth grader who could pull off a shot like that.

Sure, life for Georgie was a little lonely, but at least it made sense.

That is, until a terrifying man—a man dressed in shiny black boots and bugs crawling out of a hole in his neck—climbs through a portal in midair and kidnaps Georgie’s father. Where did this man come from? Why was he looking for an ancient fountain pen? What secrets has Georgie’s father been keeping from him?

Completely alone and not to mention scared out of his wits, Georgie quickly teams up with two unlikely allies: Apurva Aluwhalia, an aspiring astronomer and just about the prettiest girl in school (in all of New York as far as Georgie is concerned), and Roscoe Harris, a self-proclaimed YouTube sensation with a whopping fourteen bored subscribers. But hey, big dreams, right?

Together, they stumble into Scatterplot, a hidden realm where mysterious Scribes record the memories of everyone on Earth. Without the Scribes, people would forget everything … they’d lose their minds. Literally.

As the adventure grows increasingly dangerous, Georgie uncovers the evil Flint Eldritch’s plan to destroy those very memories, erasing everyone Georgie has ever loved.

Armed with nothing but courage, friendship, and a magical but extremely dangerous pen, Georgie must race against time to save not just his dad … but the minds of everyone on Earth.

… including yours.

In this exhilarating middle-grade debut, perfect for fans of Percy Jackson and Harry Potter, author Isaac Rudansky spins a heart-pounding adventure of courage, hope, and the power of friendship to lift you from the depths of loneliness and despair.

You’ll be on the edge of your seat … just hope you’ll be able to remember it all when it’s over.

About this title

About the Author

Isaac Rudansky once got suspended in seventh grade for turning in a short story instead of a Social Studies report (he thought it was pretty funny, but his teacher thought it was pretty dark), but he never stopped writing.

After earning his master’s in industrial psychology, Isaac founded AdVenture Media, an award-winning advertising agency with fifty employees across three US offices. He’s written campaigns for clients like AMC Networks, Hearst, Sports Illustrated, Forbes Magazine, Asurion, Corning Glass, Hanes, Nasdaq, and many others. He writes for industry-leading publications and has given workshops at marketing events around the world.

His online courses, each #1 bestsellers in their categories, have attracted over 300,000 students worldwide.

His debut novel, Georgie Summers and the Scribes of Scatterplot, is the result of years of narrative-driven ad copywriting, imagination, and a belief that middle-grade books shouldn’t be concerned with teaching kids lessons, ethics, or any other nonsense like that. They should just entertain.

Isaac grew up in Huntington, Long Island—the boondocks, at least for him, especially since he had zero TVs in his house and just as few friends. Growing up an orthodox Jew, he knew what being an “other” felt like. He also has red hair, and if you don't think that's a challenge, try having red hair and dating at the same time.

Before advertising, Rudansky made ends meet (barely) as an artist, selling his impressionist paintings at art festivals on Long Island. He was invited to a private exhibition in Huntington, New York in 2012, which was written up in Newsday.

Eventually, Isaac married up (way up), and he and his wife live (mostly happily) in Long Island with their quartet of little anarchists who operate on a sugar-based economy where candy is the only legal tender. Isaac’s withdrawal to the realm of writing isn’t just escapism; it’s a tactical retreat from those pint-sized insurgents. Besides, it’s the only time he gets to decide what happens next without a cacophony of dissenting opinions.

Reach Isaac at isaac@GeorgieSummers.com. He likes critical feedback, but he likes compliments even more.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1: The Aetherquill

Georgie Summers adjusted his weapon.

THIP-TWANG!

The metal slingshot marble gleamed as it sped through the air, not as fast as a real bullet, but definitely fast enough to kill someone.

CRACK!

The satisfying sound of metal piercing metal. Out of all of Georgie’s slingshots, this one was his favorite. He’d sanded the grip three times until it was extra-smooth, making a groove that fit his hand perfectly. He had also taken the time to paint the rubber bands a shiny black, which didn’t make the slingshot shoot any better; it just looked super cool. Georgie put the slingshot down on the grass and reached for his binoculars. Bullseye.

Two hundred feet away, at the very edge of the lawn surrounding Georgie’s small but tidy little home, the third can of Cherry Coke was still standing, but now it sprouted two thin streams of fizzy soda.

Four more cans to go.

Georgie checked his left pocket and felt four more metal marbles. Most kids couldn’t shoot a slingshot even half this distance. Barely anyone could hit a bullseye from this far away, and Georgie figured he was likely the only sixth grader in all of New York who could hit seven cans with just seven bullets.

He had thought it would be a good idea to bring his favorite slingshot to school today. He thought Apurva Aluwhalia might think it was cool.

What a mistake that had turned out to be. Miss Ellipsis, Georgie’s English teacher, loved to shout, especially if she was aiming at Georgie. “That’s not a toy!” she had shrieked when Georgie pulled the slingshot from his backpack. “That’s a WEAPON!” Then she sent Georgie to the principal’s office, and before Georgie could explain that he hadn’t even brought any ammunition, he’d been suspended for the rest of the day. Georgie dropped a metal ball in the leather pouch and pulled back on the rubber band until it was taut.

THIP-TWANG!

Another crack of metal. Another bullseye.

No kidding it’s a weapon, Georgie thought. But it’s not like I was going to use it on anyone.

Georgie sighed and turned back to his house. It was a small house, even for the standards of Bridget, New York, but Georgie didn’t understand why anyone would need anything bigger. He had his own bedroom with a workstation for his slingshots. He had to share a bathroom with his dad, but overall, it wasn’t a bad deal. The orange extension cord he’d snaked from his bedroom window powered his first-gen Xbox sitting on the grass beside him. His dad had been sleeping when he got home from school, and when Georgie checked the fridge after washing the dishes, he saw that the lunch he’d prepared for his dad—a turkey sandwich with the crusts cut off—hadn’t been touched. Georgie’s father always ate his lunches.

Until recently.

Georgie hit the eject button on his Xbox and out whirred the disc tray, which Georgie had preloaded with the all-time greatest hits: Jolly Ranchers, Nestle Crunch, and Sour Patch Kids. He stared at all the candy, but couldn’t decide what he was in the mood for. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood for anything right now.

Maybe he was just worried sick about his dad.

The screen door on the side of the house creaked open and snapped shut. A moment later, his father rounded the house and slowly made his way across the lawn. John Summers walked with a cane, his body tilted and his shoulders slumped, making him seem a lot shorter than he actually was. He wore his usual checkered button-down shirt and dark jeans, and Georgie could see how much weight he’d lost recently.

“Hey, kiddo,” John said, slipping the leather loop attached to the top of the cane off his wrist. Georgie had made that strap himself a few years ago and painted it the same shiny black as his slingshot rubber band. It didn’t quite make his dad’s cane cool, but it sure was better than nothing.

“Dad, you didn’t eat your lunch.”

The walk across the lawn hadn’t been easy. John Summers breathed out heavily, staring inquisitively at Georgie’s slingshot on the grass between them. “You were home early today, weren’t you?” he finally said, sitting down with a groan beside Georgie. “I thought I heard you downstairs.”

“Yeah, I got suspended. Again.” Georgie knew there wouldn’t be any follow-up questions. There wouldn’t be any anger. There wouldn’t be any punishments. There never were.

“That’s okay,” John said. He smiled brightly, and his eyes wrinkled in just the way Georgie remembered them wrinkling before his father got too sick to take care of himself. “Hey, Georgie! Why do golfers wear two pairs of pants?”

Georgie’s heart sunk. “In case they get a hole in one, Dad.”

John rubbed Georgie’s earlobe gently. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” Georgie whispered. “You told me that joke yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before—”

“So what?” John asked. “What law says your dad can’t tell the same joke twice, huh?” Georgie started tugging at blades of grass. Just because there was no law against repeating the same joke didn’t make any of this normal. It didn’t make his father’s mysterious illness any better.

Whirrr.

John Summers plucked a Jolly Rancher out of the Xbox tray and grunted as he threw it into the air as high and far as he could (which wasn’t very high or very far). “Hit it, Georgie!”

Before he had a chance to think, Georgie had his slingshot loaded and the band pulled tight.

THIP-TWANG!

The shot went high and wide.

His father threw another Jolly Rancher, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Georgie missed again.

“Great marksmen can hit moving targets,” John Summers whispered weakly.

Georgie never thought of himself as a marksman. “But I suck at moving targets.”

John Summers exhaled a rattling breath. “Don’t aim at where the target is. Aim at where the target is going.” He put an arm around Georgie and pulled him close. “It’s the same thing with stories.”

“Stories?” Georgie asked, wondering if his dad was just going off on something totally random, which he had been doing a lot these days.

Georgie’s father smiled weakly. “Yes, stories. The stories we believe are stories that show us a path to where most truly want to go. To where we believe we’re going.” Georgie considered that. It did sound sort of totally random. But at the same time, it sort of made sense.

What didn’t make sense was the sudden gust of cold wind that blew across the yard on this scorching-hot summer day. Clouds were building in the sky, which a moment ago had been blue and cloudless. The day had gone quiet. Eerily quiet.

“Dad, did you feel that wind—” Georgie stopped cold, seeing something in his father’s eyes that he’d never seen before.

Fear.

John Summers looped his wrist through the cane strap and struggled to his feet, glancing around the yard. Georgie followed his father’s eyes until they settled on the detached garage. Every hair on the back of his neck stood ramrod straight, prickling with electricity.

“Back into the house, Georgie.” Georgie couldn’t remember the last time his father gave him an order.

Then his father was hobbling across the lawn, the grass squishing under the cane’s rubber foot. Georgie watched his father awkwardly descend the first few stairs of the garage cellar. He heard the beep beep beep of the electronic keypad.

Back into the house? Georgie thought, grabbing his slingshot and hurrying after his father. No way.

By the time he reached the stairwell, Georgie could hear muffled voices.

He palmed his slingshot, his intestines tightening into a knot, and continued down to the concrete landing. He spat onto his sleeve and rubbed a small triangle of grimy glass between two planks of wood boarding up the window beside the garage door. Stretching on his tippy-toes, he could see his father’s dim outline through the smudged dirt.

There was someone else there too.

A woman, dressed like no woman Georgie had ever seen. She wore some sort of thick cloak, and—Georgie blinked twice because he couldn’t believe his eyes—a giant wooden archer’s bow slung around her back.

Georgie pressed his ear against the glass.

“The clock’s ticking, John.” The woman’s voice was low and sure. “He’s coming for the pen.”

Gooseflesh sprouted up and down Georgie’s arms. Who’s coming? What pen? Who is this strange woman and how’d she get into the garage?

His father spoke next, his voice thin. “Every bone in my body aches. I can feel him getting stronger.”

“He is,” the woman said, her voice like cold steel. “He attacked a library two nights ago looking for the pen. Destroyed half a bookshelf before disappearing again. People are going to lose their minds. They’re gonna forget who they are, John.”

Georgie heard the rustling of cloth, then the woman spoke again. “Take it.”

Georgie turned his head and squinted through the glass. The small oblong object the woman held in her hand emitted a flickering amber glow, casting strange shadows in the darkened garage.

“I don’t want it!” John Summers gasped, taking a step back. “If he gets his hands on it—”

“Take the Aetherquill, John.” She stretched her arm out. “Hide it for now. Give it to Georgie when he’s ready. It’s not safe with me. If he finds out I have it, I won’t be able to stop him.”

What was this woman talking about? Aetherquill? That was a strange word Georgie had never heard before, although “quill” did seem connected to “pen.”

CLINK!

A slingshot marble had fallen from Georgie’s pocket, striking the metal drain in the center of the landing. Georgie leapt down, squatting to find it, but just then, the garage door swung open.

“Georgie?” John Summers steadied himself against the doorframe. “What’re you doing out here?”

Georgie stood up on wobbly legs. “Dad! What’s going on? Who’s—”

Something moved inside the garage.

“Who’s in there?”

“No one,” John replied. “Just me.”

Georgie tried to see around his dad, but John Summers kept shifting his weight, blocking Georgie’s view.

“I saw someone, Dad!” Georgie was becoming very frightened. “We don’t hide things from each other, right!?”

His father moved shakily out of the way. “You can see for yourself.”

Georgie stepped slowly into the garage, his heart racing.

The garage was empty, save for the overlapping rugs, a framed picture of his mother on the far wall, and a small, sagging bookshelf stuffed with bins of old clothes against the back wall.

There was nowhere to hide. Especially not for a woman with a giant bow and arrow.

She’d been right there a few seconds ago.

And now she was gone.

Edition details

• Publisher: Greenleaf Book Group
• Publication date: 2025
• Language: English
• ISBN 13: 9798886453164
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 392