Chasing Jupiter - Softcover

Coker, Rachel

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0310743370 ISBN 13: 9780310743378

Verlag: Zonderkidz, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Scarlett Blaine’s life in 1960s Georgia isn’t always easy, especially given her parents’ financial struggles and the fights surrounding her sister Juli’s hippie lifestyle. Then there’s Scarlett’s brother, Cliff. While she loves him more than anything, there’s no denying his unique behavior leaves Cliff misunderstood and left out. So when he wishes for a rocket to Jupiter, Scarlett agrees to make it happen, no matter how crazy the idea might be.

Raising the rocket money means baking pies, and the farmer’s son, Frank, agrees to provide the peaches if Scarlett will help him talk to Juli. The problem is, Scarlett really enjoys her time with Frank, and finds herself wondering if, someday, they could be more than friends. Just as she thinks everything might be going her way, Cliff suffers an accident that not only affects the rocket plans, but shakes Scarlett’s view of God. As the summer comes to an end, Scarlett must find a way to regain what she’s lost, but also fulfill a promise to launch her brother’s dream.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Rachel Coker is a homeschool student who lives in Virginia with her parents and two sisters. She has a passion for great books and has been surrounded by them all her life. In fact, as a young child, Rachel helped her parents in a family-run Christian book business. Her gift for writing became apparent at the age of eleven at which time her parents signed her up for a year of lessons with a professional writing coach. When she is not writing or playing the piano, Rachel enjoys spending time with her family and friends.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chasing Jupiter

By Rachel Coker

ZONDERVAN

Copyright © 2012 Rachel Coker
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-310-74337-8

CHAPTER 1

Every story has to start somewhere. Mine starts with a list writtenon a sheet of yellow construction paper, folded neatly intofourths, and pushed under my bedroom door so that I brushed itwith my foot when I got up that morning. I had buttoned my blouseand was reaching for the doorknob when I felt the edge of the paperprick my toe. I bent down and picked it up. Birthday List was writtenin the corner in smudged pencil.

Cliff. I slipped the paper into the front pocket of my blue jeans.Then I bounded down the steps, two at a time, my bare feet patteringagainst the wood. My brother was already sitting at the kitchentable eating a bowl of Cap'n Crunch. I reached over to ruffle his hair,but he ducked at my touch and scowled. Okay, so it's a nontouchingday. I pulled my hand back and dropped the list on the table.

"What's this?"

"Good morning, Scarlett." Cliff swallowed a mouthful of cereal."It's my birthday list."

Yeah, I kind of figured out that much. I opened the refrigeratorand searched for the carton of milk, but it wasn't inside. "Cliff, haveyou seen the ..." I looked up and saw it sitting on the counter. Oh."Never mind." The bottle of milk was warm under my fingertips.I frowned, twisted off the cap, and took a big whiff. Sour. Fightingback my gag reflex, I set the milk back on the counter and shut therefrigerator. "Who left the milk out overnight?"

Cliff continued to chew. I wondered if he'd had the good senseto eat his cereal dry. He folded his napkin into fourths and wipedhis mouth. Nah. My guess was he'd rather use the spoiled milk thandisturb his routine. I, meanwhile, would definitely be finding somethingelse to eat.

I walked over to the bottom of the staircase and shouted, "GrandpopBarley!"

No answer, which meant he was likely still asleep. I sighed andheaded back into the kitchen.

Cliff was finished with his breakfast by the time I came backin. He had laid his spoon out over his bowl and was staring at theplacemat in silence.

"Um, Cliff, why don't you look in the pantry for a can of tunafish? I have to get our lunches made and put in the paper bags."

"Okay." He shrugged and opened the pantry, pulling out a stackof cans. Then he proceeded to sit on the floor Indian-style and carefullyline up the cans in front of him. Within seconds, they werearranged in order of largest to smallest, with all the labels facingforward. Cliff grinned and glanced up at me, motioning to his lineof cans. I noticed his sandy hair stood straight up on his head, as ifhe'd ran a rake through it while it was still wet.

"Just a second." I grabbed two slices of bread and the jar ofcrunchy peanut butter out of the cabinet, looking longingly at thecreamy jar just to the right. Grandpop Barley's smoother stash wasstrictly off limits to the rest of us, and you did not mess with hisstash. As I slathered together my peanut-butter breakfast and laidout bread for the tuna fish sandwiches, I was even gladder there wereonly a few more days of school. Soon it would be summertime, withmore time to bake and put together proper, home-cooked food. Ican get through this.

Makeshift meal in hand, I grabbed the list off the table andsquatted on the floor next to Cliff. "You want to tell me about this?"

He didn't look at me. "I already told you." One of the cans apparentlywasn't quite straight enough for him, so he picked it up andcarefully turned it until it was aligned with the rest. "It's my birthdaylist."

"Cliff, your birthday is tomorrow." I took a big bite of my peanutbutter sandwich and leaned against the cabinets. The linoleumfloor felt solid and cool beneath my faded jeans. "Even Santa Clausdoesn't work on that short of notice."

He made a face. "I'm not asking for Santa Claus, Scarlett. Thisis June, not December. There's less of a need for gifts. It's all aboutsupply and demand. It shouldn't be a problem."

"We'll see about that," I said dryly, placing the paper on thetable. So he was all about lists lately. Better lists than Spanish dictionaries,I guess. I unfolded the paper and smoothed out the creases. "Solet's go over this."

"My Birthday List," I read out loud. "By Cliff Blaine. June 6,1969."

1. One monkey from Japan

2. Two red bicycles

3. Three friends to play hopscotch with

4. Four licorice sticks

5. Five books on how to speak Spanish

6. Six pieces of chalk

7. Seven songs that I know all the words to

8. Eight moons in the sky instead of one

9. Nine boxes of macaroni and cheese

10. Ten green baseball hats

11. Eleven birthdays in one year

12. Twelve pancakes

13. Thirteen subjects to rule

14. Fourteen stuffed elephants

15. Fifteen Spanish battles

When I finished, Cliff was staring at me with wide, unblinkingeyes. I folded the paper and handed it back to him. "It's quite thelist." I pressed my lips together, holding back a smile. "There aretwelve days of Christmas. I guess birthdays have fifteen days?"

He shrugged. "Well, I figured I'd change things up."

I stood and started on the dishes while Cliff continued to playwith the cans. I grabbed Mama's old apron off the hook behind thecabinet and flipped it inside out, wrapping it twice around my slimwaist and tying it in a double knot. The soapy dishwater stung atthe little cuts on my hands. Ow. I frowned at my dirty nails. It wasa little before six in the morning, and the school bus would be comingin less than an hour and a half. How do I have dirty nails already?There was a nick above my pinky from last Tuesday when I jumpedoff my bike too quickly and fell on the gravel. I was just glad thatMama hadn't seen the dents on my handlebars. All she needed wasone more example of my being a tomboy to set her over the edge.She was forgetting that it was 1969, not the 1940s.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Cliff still sitting cross-leggedon the floor, staring at his cans. "Whoa! You got those cans reallystraight." There were eleven cans of different sizes lined up in frontof the refrigerator. The largest soup cans were on the outside, followedby the vegetable cans, and then the little round tuna cans.

Cliff cupped his chin in his palm and stared at them, obliviousto my presence. "He stacked them in rows," he muttered under hisbreath.

I frowned and pulled off my apron, hanging it back on the rack."Don't talk about yourself like that. Mama doesn't like it."

Just then, Dad came whistling down the stairs and into thekitchen, tucking his shirt into his blue jeans. Even at six in the morning,he smelled like aftershave, peaches, and dirt, all at the same time."Good morning!" He looked around the bare kitchen and his face fella little. "Not baking anything this morning?"

I shook my head. "No milk either. But help yourself to a peanutbutter sandwich."

"I think I will." He grabbed the jar of crunchy peanut butter andglanced at Cliff. "Hey, nice stack of cans there, little buddy."

Cliff nodded. "A very nice row of cans. Eleven."

"You'll be a builder, right? Build rows of skyscrapers?" Dadlaughed and ruffled Cliff's hair.

Cliff ducked away, making a face. I guess Dad hadn't realizedthis was a nontouching day either. "No," Cliff said. "I believe I willbe a matador."

Dad frowned and glanced at me, unsure how to respond. I forceda smile. "Cliff is very interested in Spanish culture these days. Cliff,show Dad how much you know about the Spanish Civil War."...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Zonderkidz
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2013
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0310743370
• ISBN 13: 9780310743378
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 240
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: HarperCollins; https://www.harpercollins.com/pages/careers-about; ; Siemensstrasse 22-34; Rellingen; Schleswig-Holstein; 25462; Deutschland