Read Earthly Astonishments Online
Authors: Marthe Jocelyn
OTHER BOOKS BY MARTHE JOCELYN
THE INVISIBLE DAY
Illustrated by Abby Carter
THE INVISIBLE HARRY
Illustrated by Abby Carter
THE INVISIBLE ENEMY
Illustrated by Abby Carter
HANNAH AND THE SEVEN DRESSES
HANNAH’S COLLECTIONS
A DAY WITH NELLIE
1
IN WHICH
We Discover Josephine’s Situation
2
IN WHICH
Josephine Makes a Decision
3
IN WHICH
Josephine Takes What’s Hers and Makes a Friend
5
IN WHICH
She Arrives at the Half-Dollar Saloon
6
IN WHICH
She Meets Mr. R. J. Walters
7
IN WHICH
Josephine Finally Goes to Sleep
8
IN WHICH
Josephine Visits the Museum of Earthly Astonishments
9
IN WHICH
Little Jo-Jo Is Created
10
IN WHICH
The Newspapers Have Something to Say
11
IN WHICH
Josephine Arrives at Coney Island
12
IN WHICH
Little Jo-Jo Makes Her First Appearance
13
IN WHICH
Josephine Gets a Letter
14
IN WHICH
Charley and Josephine Have a Little Holiday
15
IN WHICH
Josephine Receives Another Letter
16
IN WHICH
Charley and Josephine Go for a Ride
18
IN WHICH
Josephine’s Past Collides with Her Present
19
IN WHICH
The
Battle Lines Are Drawn
21
IN WHICH
Josephine Is Teased by Danger
22
IN WHICH
Josephine Is Surrounded
23
IN WHICH
Josephine Plans for the Future
24
IN WHICH
Josephine Can’t Sleep
26
IN WHICH
Mr. Gideon Smyth Has an Exclusive
27
IN WHICH
Miss MacLaren Tries Again
28
IN WHICH
Josephine Recovers
29
IN WHICH
Josephine Talks to Mr. Walters
here we lived was a little dot of a town called Westley. Everybody knew about me, so some of them could act natural. But even as a child, I knew I was different. You can always tell from the flash in people’s eyes that first second. And from the quiet that follows you until you’re far enough away to catch a whisper like a mosquito under your collar.
I was seven when my father came up with his clever plan. He’d been reading a circular with a mention of Tom Thumb’s fancy house and all his riches stacking up. My father got to thinking how he had the very same cow to sell.
I’m little, you see. I’m shaped regular, but littler, is all. When I was seven, I was a bit taller than the seat of a chair. I grew nearly nine inches in the two years after that. Then I just stopped growing.
That September, Pa thought to set up a tent at the County Farm Fair. The village folk wouldn’t pay money
to see me because they’d seen me all my life for free. But at the Fair, there’d be hundreds of strangers aching for something new and peculiar.
My ma and pa went to the trouble to dress me up like a lady. For one thing, I had lace on my bonnet, which I surely never did before. Mostly they were ashamed of me and never made me pretty things.
But here I was now, inside a tent my mother and I had sewed together from bed linens. I was perched up on a stool, and my pa lettered the sign outside:
To start with, I was pleased with myself over my new bonnet and stockings. They were my first lisle stockings. But the sun came through those sheets like fire under a kettle and I about burned up, sitting there all dolled up and fancy.
The folks pushed in four at a time, smelling like barns. They either shook their heads like there was no words to say or they laughed out loud with snorts and wheezing. It was close in there, with me on the stool and my mother on a cushion beside me and all these dull-wits crowding around.
I started to cry, but my ma smacked my palm with a strip of leather to make me hush. She could count all the groups of four and the four pennies each time, and she
wasn’t going to let a bit of fuss get in the way of a fortune. My ma and pa never saw so many coins gathered together in one purse.
The end of that first day, my parents were hopping up and down like idiot children. They even bought me a dish of crushed ice with blueberry syrup poured over, which was a real treat. That made it all right for a bit. I said I’d do it again the next day, though I’m sure they didn’t ask my opinion.
The next day was worse. It was hotter. And the word had got around, so there was a line way down the grass by the tent. Pa told my ma to pick up her cushion and come outside so he could fit in six people at a time and collect more pennies.
After my mother was gone, folks thought to poke me. They’d push their fingers under my dress to see if I was real. After that happened once or twice, I started to kick, and I landed a couple of good ones.
Then the folks complained to my pa. He came in, all steamy, and said, “You behave or I’ll give you a walloping you’ll never forget.” His pockets were jingling and that was that. I was so mad I hopped off the stool. I picked it up in my hands and swung it at him. That stool was bigger than I was. But that night, he kept his promise. He walloped me until my mother begged him to stop.
And then he couldn’t use me at the Fair for the last day because I had a black eye from where his knuckle bounced off my nose, and my face was all swolled up
from crying. I couldn’t sit down either. My behind took most of the wallop. And my parents were so mad they wouldn’t talk to me, or each other.
It was while we were rolling up our bed linens and packing our things into the cart that Miss MacLaren stopped by. She’d been in to spend her penny earlier in the day, but she ended up examining the seams on the homemade tent and saying she could use a seamstress with such a dainty stitch.
She and my pa had a quiet conversation under a maple tree, which I pretended not to listen to. He didn’t look at me again after he took her money. Then my ma got told what Pa had done. She started sniffling, and I got put into Miss MacLaren’s coach. They never said it was the last time I’d see my mother. And I never said that I didn’t care much anyway.
osephine held her breath as she balanced the heavy bottle of ink. She mustn’t hurry, or she’d spill. But it was late, so she’d better hurry. Her boot string had snapped when she yanked it this morning. To tie the knot and tease it through the hole took too many minutes. If only the blasted bell kept quiet until she’d finished this worst chore. She still hadn’t caught up and it was near to noon.