conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Thieving Weasels about Academy, Skip, Con with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Gr 8 Up"Always know your mark. And if you don't know who your mark isit's probably YOU." Raised by crooks, Skip O'Rourke engineered an escape from the family and conned his way into prestigious Wheaton Academy. He's just been accepted to Princeton when the family tracks him down and makes an unwelcome proposition: help with one final job, or have his cover blown for good. Skip unwillingly agrees, but as the plans are laid to "off" Fat Nicky Gangliosi, the teen becomes more and more aware that this endeavor isn't about aging gangsters at allit's all about revenge, and he's the target. Luckily, it takes a con man to take down a con man, and Skip's been trained by the best. The protagonist is an engaging narrator, and readers will soon be convinced that he really is trying to avoid a life of crime. It's almost eerie how much this story resembles Joe Schreiber's Con Academy, also about a good-hearted kid raised by crooks who attends a prestigious prep school and is forced into one last action by the family lowlifes. This novel will be an easy sell for teens who enjoyed Con Academy, but don't buy it expecting character development or social commentary. Still, a fun choice for readers tired of angsty YAs. VERDICT Purchase where Jude Watson's Loot and Mary Elizabeth Summer's Trust Me, I'm Lying are popular.Elizabeth Friend, Wester Middle School, TX
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Thieving Weasels
  We had two options: I could hang around our apartment all day, or I could go to school. We tried the former, but there are only so many hours a day a seven-year-old boy can watch television, and after I almost burned down the third floor of the Cheshire Arms Apartments, we tried the latter.
  The night before my first day of school I was super nervous. With the exception of my cousin, Roy, I had never spent time around kids my own age and didn't know how to act. Was school like jail, where you were supposed to punch out the toughest guy in your cell? Or was it like a convenience store, where you flirted with the lady behind the counter while your mother stole milk and Mylanta? I had no idea.
  What surprised me the most about school was how easy it was and how much easier it became. I could barely read when I got there, so they put me in a class with the dumb kids, and let's just say the contrast was more than a little obvious. I had grown up fast-talking sales ladies and policemen while my fellow students could barely wipe their own noses. By the end of the first week I was the star pupil, and by the end of the second I was transferred to a class where, if nothing else, the kids knew which end of a pencil to stick up their noses.
  That was the day I stopped trusting my mother. After that, I was always careful not to tell her too much about school or my classmates. Is that crazy or what? If I couldn't tell my own mother about my life, then who could I tell?
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: IN THE MARKET FOR A FUN-FILLED AND EXCITING SPOT TO spend Christmas? Then I recommend avoiding mental hospitals at all costs. Unfortunately, that's exactly where I found myself on the morning of December 25, sipping fat-free eggnog and watching a conga line of drugged-out zombies doing a yuletide version of the Shady Oaks Shuffle. I could hardly wait until New Year's.
  Shady Oaks had plenty of candy canes, but the trip to Uncle Wonderful's was out of the question because my mother was not allowed to leave. This was fine by me. I had other plans, and as mouthwatering as Aunt Marie's Christmas pork roast and linguine with clam sauce could be, I found the prospect of seeing Claire far more appetizing. Besides, after my fight with Uncle Wonderful, I figured my chances of returning to Wheaton were close to zero, and this would be my last opportunity to be alone with Claire. I tried not to dwell on it as I boarded the train at Grand Central, but with only drunken holiday revelers and spectacular views of the Hudson to distract me on the train ride north, it was all I could think about. We pulled into the Saratoga station twenty minutes late, and when I saw Claire waiting for me on the platform I practically catapulted off the train.
  Claire took a step back and said, "I can't believe you're actually here. C'mon, I have a surprise for you."
  I did as she told me, and a music player appeared on the screen. I pressed Play and a Foo Fighters track blasted from the iPhone's tiny speaker.
  I followed Claire into the parking lot and looked around for her father's Mercedes. We stopped in front of a new BMW instead, and Claire pulled out her keys.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Unfortunately, that's exactly where I found myself on the morning of December 25, sipping fat-free eggnog and watching a conga line of drugged-out zombies doing a yuletide version of the Shady Oaks Shuffle. I could hardly wait until New Year's.
  Shady Oaks had plenty of candy canes, but the trip to Uncle Wonderful's was out of the question because my mother was not allowed to leave. This was fine by me. I had other plans, and as mouthwatering as Aunt Marie's Christmas pork roast and linguine with clam sauce could be, I found the prospect of seeing Claire far more appetizing. Besides, after my fight with Uncle Wonderful, I figured my chances of returning to Wheaton were close to zero, and this would be my last opportunity to be alone with Claire. I tried not to dwell on it as I boarded the train at Grand Central, but with only drunken holiday revelers and spectacular views of the Hudson to distract me on the train ride north, it was all I could think about. We pulled into the Saratoga station twenty minutes late, and when I saw Claire waiting for me on the platform I practically catapulted off the train.
  Claire took a step back and said, "I can't believe you're actually here. C'mon, I have a surprise for you."
  I did as she told me, and a music player appeared on the screen. I pressed Play and a Foo Fighters track blasted from the iPhone's tiny speaker.
  I followed Claire into the parking lot and looked around for her father's Mercedes. We stopped in front of a new BMW instead, and Claire pulled out her keys.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: My mother started to say something, but I didn't want to hear it and pulled the locker door shut. I was tempted to break the key off in the lock, but thought better of it and ran behind the storage facility to where Claire was waiting for me in her car.
  This morning Federal agents announced the arrest of two suspects in a 1995 robbery and shooting of an undercover agent. Philip O'Rourke, 57, and Sheila O'Rourke, 53, were apprehended in predawn raids in Copiague and Amityville. Also arrested was Royston Patrick O'Rourke, 22. All three possessed bills from the robbery which they had only recently begun spending. Agents say the case was cracked when the younger O'Rourke dropped over ten thousand dollars in marked bills at a Manhattan strip club.
  If convicted, Philip and Sheila O'Rourke face a maximum of twenty-five years to life in prison for the shooting of a federal agent, while Royston O'Rourke is looking at five years for possession of the stolen cash, not to mention being an idiot. When asked why the trio would wait over ten years to pass the money, Special Agent Richard McMahon replied, "They're a pack of weasels. Who knows why they do what they do?"