Jackson Jones, Book 1_ The Tale of a Boy, an Elf, and a Very Stinky Fish - Jenn L. Kelly [3]
Jackson was uncomfortable because of her hair.
I’m sure you must think he was overreacting. How could anyone be afraid of hair? But you don’t understand. She had very, very, very, very, very, very, very big hair.
Oh, I know you’ve seen some big hair before. At proms and debutante balls, most cheerleaders, in ’80s music videos, in southern Texas, and on the woman who sits right in front of you at the movie theater. But her hair was even bigger.
Imagine, if you will, a very large wedding cake. You know the kind they serve at all the best weddings? Not at the boring weddings where you eat dry chicken and listen to hours of speeches about how the bride cut her first tooth. And the wedding cake is flavorless enough to invoke a full-blown political revolt.
I’m talking about the awesome weddings where your parents let you run around without your suit jacket on. Where you have the option of dancing the Hokey Pokey or touring the buffet again. And where the wedding cake is big enough for everyone to get a blue sugary rose to stain their teeth.
Great-Aunt Harriet’s hair was even bigger than that. It was a strange grayish-red color and it was oh-so-very thick. So thick, in fact, that when the wind blew, it stood completely still. Once, during a tornado, she hid a little dog in there and afterward they had tea.
Great-Aunt Harriett was also very, very, very, very, very, very, very short.
So short, in fact, that if you stood up straight you would talk to hair. If you bent over at the waist you would talk to hair. If you sat on the ground you could see her scrunched-up little face, crinkled-apple cheeks, squinty eyes behind her very thick glasses, and her toothless mouth.
If Jackson didn’t sit on the floor to talk to her, she would talk directly to his belly button. It is never a pleasant sensation having someone talk to your belly button. Unless, of course, they want to talk to your belly button. But we won’t get into that right now.
Great-Aunt Harriett loved to talk. She would chatter on and on about old houses, birds, and keys. (Not piano keys, but keys that open doors.) She didn’t have any teeth in her tiny, puckered mouth, so she mumbled and lisped a lot. And when she mumbled and lisped, bits of spit sprayed all over everything. This usually made for messy (and wet) conversations. And she would go on and on, sometimes asking a question, but since she was very, very, very hard of hearing (maybe it was all that hair?), she never really heard the answers. For example:
Great-Aunt Harriett: “So how are you doing in school, Jackson?” (Actually, it sounded like “Tho how aw you doin thcoo, Jackthon?” but I’ve translated for you.)
Jackson: “It’s summertime, Great-Aunt Harriett. I’m not in school right now.”
Great-Aunt Harriett: “You’re captain of the tuba-bassoon group?”
Jackson: “No, I said I’m not in school right now. I don’t even like the tuba! Or the bassoon! I don’t even play an instrument!”
Great-Aunt Harriett: “You know, that reminds me of the birds I saw last night. They were so lovely. They just kept singing the most beautiful songs. Maybe you can play those songs on your bassoon for me?”
And so on.
One thing Great-Aunt Harriett always said was, “Find your story!”
But there was a slight problem. It was lovely that she told him to find his own story, because that was a very nice thing to say, and it was very encouraging, especially for people who were, at that moment, living their stories or perhaps on the verge of making the decision to do just that.
The slight problem was that:
Jackson…
did…
not…
have…
a…
story.
He was only ten and a half, for goodness’ sakes! How on earth could he tell his story if he didn’t know what it was? I mean, sure, he’d like to play baseball a little better. Who wouldn’t? And of course it would be pretty neat to see his stories published, but all writers want that. It would also be nice to have a few friends…but that’s not really a story.
Is it?
Chapter 6
In Which We Learn about Diplomacy
It’s never fun to share your room with relatives, especially when you have