Read Online Harry Sue by Sue Stauffacher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sue Stauffacher
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up some or change a scene to suit her way of thinking.
“They're mysterious ones, Harry Sue,” she said, combing her fingers down the back of my head. “How else could they know everybody's secrets?”
That's when she informed me of the little-known fact that the
L
in L. Frank Baum stood for Louise.
“Boy name and a girl name, just like you,” she said, poking me in the gut. “I bet you're gonna be a big famous writer someday, too.
“Just do me one favor, baby, okay? Don't make it so hard for the heroes to find their way home.”
When things got real bad for the peasant girl, the one who couldn't sleep until she reached the castle and had to prop herself up in the trees with wolves howling around, Mom cried. Or the prince who couldn't make a sound when he was attacked by demons and kicked and punched and stung and bit … that just tore her up.
Some teachers don't want to read that stuff tokids because they think it'll give 'em bad dreams. But I could tell them real stories that would curl their hair. Even Louise Frank Baum got mixed up in all that when he wrote at the beginning to
The Wizard of Oz
that he didn't want his book to be like the crummy old tales that scare kids with beasts and demons.
What he said was—straight up, Fish! I copied this out of the book—what he said was this: “The modern child seeks only entertainment in its wonder tales and gladly dispenses with all disagreeable incident.”
He said that's why he wrote
The Wizard of Oz
, because he wanted a story “in which the wonderment and joy are retained and the heart-aches and nightmares are left out.”
Either that guy had a real sense of humor or he had no respect for the power of his words. Do you even know the real story of how the Tin Man got to be the way he did? He started out a man, a poor woodcutter who fell in love with a pretty Munch-kin girl. But that girl served an old woman who didn't want her to get married and leave, so the old woman promised a sheep and a cow to the Wicked Witch of the East if she'd stop it from happening. The witch cast a spell on the woodcutter's ax and it chopped off his leg. He was down about that, you know, but he found a tinsmith to put a tin leg on for him and then he was good to go. Well, that didn'tset too well with the witch, so she bewitched the ax again.
You get the picture. Over and over. A leg. An arm. His chest. His head. The ax cut it all off. And piece by piece the tinsmith replaced real flesh and blood with tin.
Now, I don't know about you. But that doesn't seem like a sweet little bedtime story to me.
I mean, seriously, Fish, what kind of tea was that guy drinking?
Chapter 11
As I padded down the silent halls of Trench Vista Elementary, I realized that I must have a little luck left in my share because today was Friday. I'd forgotten about Mr. Hernandez's team meetings, where he called the teachers together before school on Friday to “assess” in his office.
Every classroom was open and empty and as vulnerable as a sleeping con. I could be very efficient under the circumstances. First I spent a little quality time marinating Ms. Lanier's erasers in the chalk dust I brought from Granny's.
Then I went looking for the art room. Our newest teacher was replacing a mousy little something just out of college who claimed the moldy airat Trench Vista gave her the shingles. Even though I don't have a lot of good things to say about the air around here, it seemed to me like life was what gave Miss Rodenski the shingles.
Miss Rodenski kept her room and her supplies in perfect order and seemed disappointed when the students had to use them for the day's lessons. After the kids filed out, she worked feverishly on the last bit of dried-on glue or splotch of paint before the next class came in. If we got there before she had the room to her satisfaction, she'd make us wait in the hall while she stayed inside scrubbing and cursing the cleaning gods. All that cursing and cleaning didn't set
“They're mysterious ones, Harry Sue,” she said, combing her fingers down the back of my head. “How else could they know everybody's secrets?”
That's when she informed me of the little-known fact that the
L
in L. Frank Baum stood for Louise.
“Boy name and a girl name, just like you,” she said, poking me in the gut. “I bet you're gonna be a big famous writer someday, too.
“Just do me one favor, baby, okay? Don't make it so hard for the heroes to find their way home.”
When things got real bad for the peasant girl, the one who couldn't sleep until she reached the castle and had to prop herself up in the trees with wolves howling around, Mom cried. Or the prince who couldn't make a sound when he was attacked by demons and kicked and punched and stung and bit … that just tore her up.
Some teachers don't want to read that stuff tokids because they think it'll give 'em bad dreams. But I could tell them real stories that would curl their hair. Even Louise Frank Baum got mixed up in all that when he wrote at the beginning to
The Wizard of Oz
that he didn't want his book to be like the crummy old tales that scare kids with beasts and demons.
What he said was—straight up, Fish! I copied this out of the book—what he said was this: “The modern child seeks only entertainment in its wonder tales and gladly dispenses with all disagreeable incident.”
He said that's why he wrote
The Wizard of Oz
, because he wanted a story “in which the wonderment and joy are retained and the heart-aches and nightmares are left out.”
Either that guy had a real sense of humor or he had no respect for the power of his words. Do you even know the real story of how the Tin Man got to be the way he did? He started out a man, a poor woodcutter who fell in love with a pretty Munch-kin girl. But that girl served an old woman who didn't want her to get married and leave, so the old woman promised a sheep and a cow to the Wicked Witch of the East if she'd stop it from happening. The witch cast a spell on the woodcutter's ax and it chopped off his leg. He was down about that, you know, but he found a tinsmith to put a tin leg on for him and then he was good to go. Well, that didn'tset too well with the witch, so she bewitched the ax again.
You get the picture. Over and over. A leg. An arm. His chest. His head. The ax cut it all off. And piece by piece the tinsmith replaced real flesh and blood with tin.
Now, I don't know about you. But that doesn't seem like a sweet little bedtime story to me.
I mean, seriously, Fish, what kind of tea was that guy drinking?
Chapter 11
As I padded down the silent halls of Trench Vista Elementary, I realized that I must have a little luck left in my share because today was Friday. I'd forgotten about Mr. Hernandez's team meetings, where he called the teachers together before school on Friday to “assess” in his office.
Every classroom was open and empty and as vulnerable as a sleeping con. I could be very efficient under the circumstances. First I spent a little quality time marinating Ms. Lanier's erasers in the chalk dust I brought from Granny's.
Then I went looking for the art room. Our newest teacher was replacing a mousy little something just out of college who claimed the moldy airat Trench Vista gave her the shingles. Even though I don't have a lot of good things to say about the air around here, it seemed to me like life was what gave Miss Rodenski the shingles.
Miss Rodenski kept her room and her supplies in perfect order and seemed disappointed when the students had to use them for the day's lessons. After the kids filed out, she worked feverishly on the last bit of dried-on glue or splotch of paint before the next class came in. If we got there before she had the room to her satisfaction, she'd make us wait in the hall while she stayed inside scrubbing and cursing the cleaning gods. All that cursing and cleaning didn't set
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