Jackson Jones, Book 1_ The Tale of a Boy, an Elf, and a Very Stinky Fish - Jenn L. Kelly [5]
“…the garden that you played in.” (page turn)
“…the garden that I played in. It was a lovely garden. And behind the garden was a little shed that my daddy built for the gardener to keep his tools in. Oh, what was his name?”
“Mr. Shaw.” Jackson sighed quietly.
“Mr. Shaw. Oh my, he was a nice man. He taught me all kinds of things about flowers and birds. He even let me have a key to the shed so I could hide in it and pretend it was my own little house. He knew so much about birds. He knew so much about…”
Great-Aunt Harriett’s eyes shut. The little wrinkles were less pronounced as her eyes closed. Jackson held his breath, waiting.
“Birds…houses…gold key,” she murmured. All was quiet. Jackson let his breath out.
“Find your story!” she sighed. And then she began to snore.
Jackson had wondered earlier if maybe Great-Aunt Harriett would die in his bottom bunk bed, which was a reasonable thought because she was Oh-So-Very Old. But Dad said that as long as she was snoring, she was fine.
Jackson could NOT fall asleep.
At all.
He tossed one way, his legs tangling in the dark blue sheets.
He tossed the other, his legs tangling again.
He even learned how to toss a new way, which I can’t reveal to you because it’s something you will have to figure out for yourself some night when you can’t sleep.
Jackson sighed, staring at the ceiling. He sighed again, staring at the inside of his eyelids. Would the flashlight wake her up? Jackson turned over quietly and poked his head over the edge to look at Great-Aunt Harriett below.
Her body twitched as she snored. That was a good sign. Her creepy toothless mouth opened and closed with each rasp. She hacked and coughed violently and then resumed snoring.
Jackson could not take his eyes away. It was so gross, and yet so fascinating. Her little eyelids were covered in deep wrinkles. Her dried-out apple cheeks puffed up and sank with each breath. Jackson looked at her hair.
The moonlight that snuck in the window made her hair glow. Jackson was mesmerized by it. He became sleepy as he stared at it. The shimmering glow, so hypnotic, so sleepy…Jackson’s eyes had almost shut.
Her hair twitched.
Chapter 9
In Which There Will Be Absolutely No Crying
Oh, for CRYING OUT LOUD!” A large, juicy fish hit the floor. A pike, in fact.
The little creature sat on one of the ladder’s rungs and sighed, pushing her long, wispy brown hair out of her face. She hadn’t even noticed the bits of stinky fish gunk in her hair.
Of course a fish wouldn’t open a locked door. Why would she even think that? And what was she going to do?
The fish idea had been hers, of course. When she arrived at the locked trapdoor late and without the key, she had been so surprised, so embarrassed, so mortified that she was desperate for ideas. She had dug through her workbag, searching for anything that would help. The barrette hadn’t worked. It was as useless at picking a lock as it was at keeping her crazy hair out of her face. The key she had origami-ed out of paper kept bending and then finally tore. Her pen nib had broken, staining her right hand and most of her work shirt a fabulous pink. The fish had been her last choice. She pried open his dead mouth, trying to use his teeth, but as we all know, fish are rather slippery and uncooperative, especially when they are dead. So now it lay at the bottom of the ladder.
Meeka’s fist smacked the door. Tiny, frustrated tears threatened to fall. She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry! How on earth could she be taken seriously if she cried every time she messed up? Meeka sighed and climbed back down the ladder. Time to face the inevitable.
Chapter 10
In Which Nothing Makes Sense
If your parents made you put down this book after the last chapter, I’m very sorry. Some parents have rules like that, only letting their children read a few chapters before bedtime. However, to console you, when you are an adult you can stay up as late as you want and read as