Jekel Loves Hyde by Beth FantaskeyJekel Loves Hyde by Beth Fantaskey

Jekel Loves Hyde

byBeth Fantaskey

Paperback | May 2, 2011

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Jill Jekel has always obeyed her parents' rules-especially the one about never opening the mysterious, old box in her father's office. But when her dad is murdered, and her college savings disappear, she's tempted to peek inside, as the contents might be the key to a lucrative chemistry scholarship.&nbspTo improve her odds, Jill enlists the help of gorgeous, brooding Tristen Hyde, who has his own dark secrets locked away. As the team of Jekel and Hyde, they recreate experiments based on the classic novel, hoping not only to win a prize, but to save Tristen's sanity. Maybe his life . But Jill's accidental taste of a formula unleashes her darkest nature and compels her to risk everything-even Tristen's love-just for the thrill of being . . . bad.
BETH FANTASKEY lives in rural Pennslyvania with her husband and two daughters. She is the author of Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side.
Title:Jekel Loves HydeFormat:PaperbackDimensions:288 pages, 8.25 × 5.5 × 0.65 inPublished:May 2, 2011Publisher:Houghton Mifflin HarcourtLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0547550278

ISBN - 13:9780547550275


Rated 5 out of 5 by from Romance, Violence and Mystery This book held my interest until the very end. It combined romance,with a bit of thriller mystery.
Date published: 2018-01-31
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Romantic homage to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde This is a creative modern-day adaptation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I liked how Beth Fantaskey took some of the novel’s essential elements and converted them into something new. The story is told from the alternating perspectives of Jill Jekel and Tristen Hyde – high school students who seem older than they are. A deep romance develops between them as they investigate their ancestry and the chemistry behind the Jekyll-to-Hyde transformation. Kept me interested from start to finish.
Date published: 2017-10-16
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Chemical attraction Fantasky does know how to write a book i will tell you that. However I felt like compared to her other book Jessica's Guide to dating on the darkside I couldn't really feel the connection between Tristan and Jill. I felt like 100 pages in is when the book should have ended and she should have just made more event happen before that. But, of course, how would Jill ever evolve from her meek little self? The ending of this novel left me with more questions that answers. I don't know how the characters really pulled anything off or whether or not their lives were going to be better for what happened. That all being said it was a good read, but not something I would recommend buying.
Date published: 2011-06-19
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Not Quite What I Expected... But interesting nevertheless. The plot was a bit predictable, and sometimes the story was a little rough around the edges, but all in all it was a good read. The ending could've been better, (way better) but it still kept me up til almost 2am reading.
Date published: 2010-05-06
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Good, but not as good as I expected Having read Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side, I was eagerly awaiting this next work by Beth Fantaskey. I was somewhat disappointed. It was okay, but nothing special. Jill Jekel is the nerdy student in her high school. She is very talented in art and chemistry. But she also has a dark pain, and a dark secret that goes with it. Her father was murdered. And it turns out that he wasn't the person she thought he was. He stole her college fund, and took chemicals that from the lab that he worked at. Now her only hope is Tristen Hyde, the mature new student just arrived from England. but he has secrets of his own. All his life, Tristen's grandfather told him tales of of thier ancestor, the evil Mr. Hyde from the stories of Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And now Tristen can feel the beast within him start to take over. To take control. Jill asks Tristen to help her with a chemistry competition that just could blow everyone away. For her father kept what he believed were the notes of THE Dr. Jekyll, outlining the experiments that he did to create the formula that changed him. And if they win, ten thousand dollars will be hers. And Tristen may have a way out of the evil prison of his mind. Working together in secret, Tristen and Jill begin falling for each other. But then Jill accidentally taste the formula, and she becomes tempted with the lure of being bad. It is a great premise, I will give Fantasky that. But in the end, it just didn't feel "right." The romance between Jill and Tristen felt rushed and sudden; the change in Jill felt unreal somehow (almost as if the author really didn't want to write it, but felt compelled to). As well, her rather mercurial feelings for tristen left me feeling cold: "I love him"/"I can't love him"; "I feel safe with him"/"he's a monster". It was enough to drive me batty. The relationship between her mom and his dad was sudden and contrived, not real at all. and the ending really did nothing for me. Overall, it was a fair read, and I'm glad I did. I was expecting better, though.
Date published: 2010-05-01
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Love, lust and… Chemistry? We start this book meeting Jill Jekel at her fathers funeral. Her father was a scientist and he was murdered one night. She’s standing at his grave, everyone saying something to her, when Tristen Hyde comes up to her and tells her its going to get easier. She doesn’t understand why he’s there but leaves it alone. Jill starts senior year, and in science class Tristen shows up, commanding in nature, showing up late and not even caring. After class Jill, Tristen and a classmate Darcy are asked to stay a little late. They’ve been invited to a science competition, which Tristen automatically says no to. Darcy is all for it, though Jill doesn’t feel like doing it. They leave it like that, Tristen walking out of class. Tristen lives with his father, a psychotherapist, and he believes what his grandfather told him. That they are descendants of Mr. Hyde. That they are full of murderous rage. His father tries to tell them that they are not, that his father was just delusional in his final days. Though Tristen knows better, he’s knows that theirs is something about him that doesn’t feel right. Jill finds out that her father took her college fund for his research. She’s angry and comes up with an idea. Her father believed that they were descendants of Dr. Jekyll and wanted to recreate the formula. He kept his papers in a box in his office. Jill asks Tristen to help her with it, for the science competition. He agrees because he thinks that this could help him with his “beast”. This could just be the thing that brings them together. This book was good and I’m not going to talk bad about it. It wasn’t great because it just wasn’t jaw-dropping. There were some really good parts (like the ending) but it wasn’t jaw dropping good. I give this book 3.5 because it’s really not four material. The relationship between the two was really brought out in the book, along with the other things that come out.
Date published: 2010-04-23

Read from the Book

Prologue Jill I buried my father the day after my seventeenth birthday. Even the sun was cruel that morning, an obscenely bright but cold January day. The snow that smothered the cemetery glared harshly white, blinding those mourners who couldn’t squeeze under the tent that covered Dad’s open grave. And the tent itself gleamed crisply, relentlessly white, so it hurt a little to look at that, too. Hurt a lot, actually. Against this inappropriately immaculate backdrop, splashes of black stood in stark relief, like spatters of ink on fresh paper: the polished hearse that glittered at the head of the procession, the minister’s perfectly ironed shirt, and the sober coats worn by my father’s many friends and colleagues, who came up one by one after the service to offer Mom and me their condolences. Maybe I saw it all in terms of color because I’m an artist. Or maybe I was just too overwhelmed to deal with anything but extremes. Maybe my grief was so raw that the whole world seemed severe and discordant and clashing. I don’t remember a word the minister said, but he seemed to talk forever. And as the gathering began to break up, I, yesterday’s birthday girl, stood there under that tent fidgeting in my own uncomfortable, new black dress and heavy wool coat, on stage like some perverse debutante at the world’s worst coming-out party. I looked to my mother for support, for help, but her eyes seemed to yawn as vacant as Dad’s waiting grave. I swear, meeting Mom’s gaze was almost as painful as looking at the snow, or the casket, or watching the endless news reports about my father’s murder. Mom was disappearing, too . . . Feeling something close to panic, I searched the crowd. Who would help me now? I wasn’t ready to be an adult . . . Was I really . . . alone? Even my only friend, Becca Wright, had begged off from the funeral, protesting that she had a big civics test, which she’d already rescheduled twice because of travel for cheerleading. And, more to the point, she just "couldn’t handle" seeing my poor, murdered father actually shoved in the ground. I looked around for my chemistry teacher, Mr. Messerschmidt, whom I’d seen earlier lingering on the fringes of the mourners, looking nervous and out of place, but I couldn’t find him, and I assumed that he’d returned to school, without a word to me. Alone. I was alone. Or maybe I was worse than alone, because just when I thought things couldn’t get more awful, my classmate Darcy Gray emerged from the crowd, strode up, and thrust her chilly hand into mine, air-kissing my cheek. And even this gesture, which I knew Darcy offered more out of obligation than compassion, came across like the victor’s condescending acknowledgment of the vanquished. When Darcy said, "So sorry for your loss, Jill," I swore it was almost like she was congratulating herself for still having parents. Like she’d bested me once more, as she had time and again since kindergarten. "Thanks," I said stupidly, like I genuinely appreciated being worthy of pity. "Call me if you need anything," Darcy offered. Yet I noticed that she didn’t jot down her cell number. Didn’t even reach into her purse and feign looking for a pen. "Thanks," I said again. Why was I always acting grateful for nothing? "Sure," Darcy said, already looking around for an escape route. As she walked away, I watched her blond hair gleaming like a golden trophy in that too-brilliant sun, and the loneliness and despair that had been building in me rose to a crescendo that was so powerful I wasn’t quite sure how I managed to keep my knees from buckling. Not one real friend there for me . . . That’s when I noticed Tristen Hyde standing at the edge of the tent. He wore a very adult, tailored overcoat, unbuttoned, and I could see that he had donned a tie, too, for this occasion. He had his hands buried in his pockets, a gesture that I first took as signaling discomfort, unease. I mean, what teenage guy wouldn’t be uncomfortable at a funeral? And I hardly knew Tristen. It wasn’t like we were friends. He’d certainly never met my father. Yet there he was, when almost nobody else had shown up for me. Why? Why had he come? When Tristen saw that I’d noticed him, he pulled his hands from his pockets, and I realized that he wasn’t uneasy at all. In fact, as he walked toward me, I got the impression that he’d just been waiting, patiently, for his turn. For the right time to approach me. And what a time he picked. It couldn’t have been more dead on. "It’s going to be okay," he promised as he came up to me, reaching out to take my arm, like he realized that I was folding up inside, on the verge of breaking down. I looked up at him, mutely shaking my head in the negative. No, it was not going to be okay. He could not promise that. Nobody could. Certainly not some kid from my high school, even a tall one dressed convincingly like a full-fledged man. I shook my head more vehemently, tears welling in my eyes. "Trust me," he said softly, his British accent soothing. He squeezed my arm harder. "I know what I’m talking about." I didn’t know at the time that Tristen had vast experience with this "grief" thing. All I knew was that I let him, a boy I barely knew, wrap his arms around me and pull me to his chest. And suddenly, as he smoothed my hair, I really started weeping. Letting out all the tears that I’d bottled up, from the moment that the police officer had knocked on the door of our house to say that my father had been found butchered in a parking lot outside the lab where he worked, and all through planning the funeral, as my mother fell to pieces, forcing me to do absurd, impossible things like select a coffin and write insanely large checks to the undertaker. Suddenly I was burying myself under Tristen’s overcoat, nearly knocking off my eyeglasses as I pressed against him, and sobbing so hard that I must have soaked his shirt and tie. When I was done, drained of tears, I pulled away from him, adjusting my glasses and wiping my eyes, sort of embarrassed. But Tristen didn’t seem bothered by my show of emotion. "It does get better, hurt less," he assured me, repeating, "Trust me, Jill." Such an innocuous little comment at the time, but one that would become central to my very existence in the months to come. Trust me, Jill . . . "I’ll see you at school," Tristen added, pressing my arm again. Then he bent down, and in a gesture I found incredibly mature, kissed my cheek. Only I shifted a little, caught off-guard, not used to being that near to a guy, and the corners of our lips brushed. "Sorry," I murmured, even more embarrassed—and kind of appalled with myself. I’d never even come close to kissing a guy on the lips under any circumstances, let alone on such a terrible day. Not that I’d really felt anything, of course, and yet . . . It just seemed wrong to even consider anything but death at that moment. How could I even think about how some guy felt, how he smelled, how it had been just to give up and be held by somebody stronger than me? My father was DEAD. "Sorry," I muttered again, and I think I was kind of apologizing to Dad, too. "It’s okay," Tristen reassured me, smiling a little. He was the first person who’d dared to smile at me since the murder. I didn’t know what to make of that, either. When should people smile again? "See you, okay?" he said, releasing my arm. I hugged myself, and it seemed a poor substitute for the embrace I’d just been offered. "Sure. See you. Thanks for coming." I followed his progress as Tristen wandered off through the graves, bending over now and then to brush some snow off the tombstones, read an inscription, or maybe check a date, not hurrying, like graveyards were his natural habitat. Familiar territory. Tristen Hyde had come for . . . me. Why? But there was no more time to reflect on whatever motives had driven this one particular classmate to attend a stranger’s burial, because suddenly the funeral director was tapping my shoulder, telling me that it was time to say any final goodbyes before the procession of black cars pulled away from the too-white tent and the discreetly positioned backhoe hurried in to do its job because there was more snow in the forecast. "Okay," I said, retrieving my mother and guiding her by the hand, forcing us both to bow our heads one last time. We sealed my father’s grave on a day of stark contrasts, of black against white, and it was the last time I’d ever find myself in a place of such extremes. Because in the months after the dirt fell on the coffin, my life began to shift to shades of gray, almost like the universe had taken a big stick and stirred up the whole scene at that cemetery, mixing up everything and repainting my world. As it turned out, my father wasn’t quite the man we’d all thought he was. Correction. Nothing and no one, as I would come to learn, would turn out to be quite what they’d seemed back on that day. Not even me. And Tristen . . . He would prove to be the trickiest, the most complicated, the most compelling of all the mysteries that were about to unravel.

Editorial Reviews

This novel is filled with compelling plot devices; one particularly nice touch is the way that Jekel and Hyde alternate telling their stories, embodying a double perspective. Fans of the genre won't be able to resist this slick genre update." - Booklist "Fantaskey's ( Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side ) premise is creative, and there are plenty of twists to keep readers engaged - right through the fiery final face-off." - Publishers Weekly "Teen readers will be drawn to the classic story of Jeckyll and Hyde with a modern, romantic twist." - VOYA, starred review"