Read Online A Summer of Sundays by Lindsay Eland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lindsay Eland
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not turn out to be anything.”
We were both silent for a few moments. The only sound was the whirring of the fan and the choking sound of the car trying to start in the driveway.
“I saw on a map that there’s a lake outside of town. I could swim across it all by myself,” I said. “I’m sure that would get people’s attention.”
Jude laughed, pushing aside the bangs that had crept in front of his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could. But your brother Henry could do that, too.”
“No, he can’t swim.”
“You don’t need to. It’s so shallow and small that anyone can cross it. And it’s pretty gross. My mom won’t let me get within two feet of it.”
I let out a groan. I had pictured a shimmering lake with boats tied up to docks, water-skiers gliding across the water, and fishermen casting rods. Not a slimy puddle.
“You could try to break a record or something.”
“I’ve already tried that. Didn’t work. You don’t have a unicycle, do you?”
“That’s the last thing my mom would ever let me have.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Visions of tents, balloons, food, and contests filled my head. “I was thinking I could throw a big party for the reopening of the library.”
He smiled and nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
A party wasn’t as grand an idea as I was hoping for, but it was something I could probably pull off. Jude could help. We’d just have to make it really extravagant if it was going to make me stand out. “It’s keeping my brothers and sisters from poking around that’ll be the hard part. They’ll definitely know something is up.”
“Yeah, but everyone will still know it was your idea.”
I laughed. “You don’t know my family.”
I took out a notebook and a blue pen I’d brought with me from home and paced the floor.
“The party has to be big. Something that people won’tbe able to forget.” I wrote BIG at the top of the piece of paper. “Like … rides and a … a hot-air balloon. Things like that.”
“Rides and a hot-air balloon? Where are you going to get the money for that? And how are you going to keep all that from your family?”
“Well, I’ll have to tell my parents eventually. But …” I fell silent. Jude was right. How in the world would I ever be able to pull something like that off without everyone in my family putting their hands in? “Okay, forget the balloon and rides for now. Maybe we could see if there are people in town who could do tricks or entertain or something. I can bake food and make lemonade and I can talk to my parents to see if there is a little extra money from the anonymous donation to buy decorations.”
I pictured my name etched on a bronze plaque screwed into a bench. “Hey, maybe the town will name something in the library after me. You think?”
“Maybe. I have an idea. You could write to some famous authors and ask if they could come and speak at the party!”
“That’s perfect!” I scribbled the idea down. That would be huge. “Who should I write to? Judy Blume? Stephen King? J. K. Rowling?”
“Sure. You might as well try as many as you can think of. Let’s make a list.”
We both shouted out authors, getting distracted with almost every name by talking about their books.
“I loved
The Invention of Hugo Cabret
, too!” I said, scribbling down Brian Selznick.
Kate DiCamillo. “Have you read
The Tale of Despereaux
?”
“How about
A Long Way from Chicago
by Richard Peck?”
“That’s one of my favorites. Remember the part—”
I stopped when the notebook page was filled with names. “Okay, we have to stop there. If everyone on this page says no, then we’ll think of more.” I glanced down at the list. “What if they don’t get the letters in time … or what if they don’t get back to us?”
Jude took the pen and scribbled Rick Riordan down. “I don’t know. It’s a long shot either way, but we should try.”
I glanced down at the manuscript. If only I could find out
We were both silent for a few moments. The only sound was the whirring of the fan and the choking sound of the car trying to start in the driveway.
“I saw on a map that there’s a lake outside of town. I could swim across it all by myself,” I said. “I’m sure that would get people’s attention.”
Jude laughed, pushing aside the bangs that had crept in front of his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could. But your brother Henry could do that, too.”
“No, he can’t swim.”
“You don’t need to. It’s so shallow and small that anyone can cross it. And it’s pretty gross. My mom won’t let me get within two feet of it.”
I let out a groan. I had pictured a shimmering lake with boats tied up to docks, water-skiers gliding across the water, and fishermen casting rods. Not a slimy puddle.
“You could try to break a record or something.”
“I’ve already tried that. Didn’t work. You don’t have a unicycle, do you?”
“That’s the last thing my mom would ever let me have.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Visions of tents, balloons, food, and contests filled my head. “I was thinking I could throw a big party for the reopening of the library.”
He smiled and nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
A party wasn’t as grand an idea as I was hoping for, but it was something I could probably pull off. Jude could help. We’d just have to make it really extravagant if it was going to make me stand out. “It’s keeping my brothers and sisters from poking around that’ll be the hard part. They’ll definitely know something is up.”
“Yeah, but everyone will still know it was your idea.”
I laughed. “You don’t know my family.”
I took out a notebook and a blue pen I’d brought with me from home and paced the floor.
“The party has to be big. Something that people won’tbe able to forget.” I wrote BIG at the top of the piece of paper. “Like … rides and a … a hot-air balloon. Things like that.”
“Rides and a hot-air balloon? Where are you going to get the money for that? And how are you going to keep all that from your family?”
“Well, I’ll have to tell my parents eventually. But …” I fell silent. Jude was right. How in the world would I ever be able to pull something like that off without everyone in my family putting their hands in? “Okay, forget the balloon and rides for now. Maybe we could see if there are people in town who could do tricks or entertain or something. I can bake food and make lemonade and I can talk to my parents to see if there is a little extra money from the anonymous donation to buy decorations.”
I pictured my name etched on a bronze plaque screwed into a bench. “Hey, maybe the town will name something in the library after me. You think?”
“Maybe. I have an idea. You could write to some famous authors and ask if they could come and speak at the party!”
“That’s perfect!” I scribbled the idea down. That would be huge. “Who should I write to? Judy Blume? Stephen King? J. K. Rowling?”
“Sure. You might as well try as many as you can think of. Let’s make a list.”
We both shouted out authors, getting distracted with almost every name by talking about their books.
“I loved
The Invention of Hugo Cabret
, too!” I said, scribbling down Brian Selznick.
Kate DiCamillo. “Have you read
The Tale of Despereaux
?”
“How about
A Long Way from Chicago
by Richard Peck?”
“That’s one of my favorites. Remember the part—”
I stopped when the notebook page was filled with names. “Okay, we have to stop there. If everyone on this page says no, then we’ll think of more.” I glanced down at the list. “What if they don’t get the letters in time … or what if they don’t get back to us?”
Jude took the pen and scribbled Rick Riordan down. “I don’t know. It’s a long shot either way, but we should try.”
I glanced down at the manuscript. If only I could find out
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