{"product_id":"once-in-a-blue-moon-isbn-9780593481011","title":"Once in a Blue Moon","description":"\u003cb\u003eA beautiful and uplifting novel in verse about family, friendship, journeys that take us far from home and back again, renewed and more courageous from the three-time Coretta Scott King Honor winner of \u003ci\u003eThe Skin I'm In!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJames Henry used to be brave. He hasn't been the same since that fateful night at the lighthouse when his ma went searching for Dog. Now months later, he feels as small as the space between the numbers on a watch, nervous day and night, barely able to go outside. Even words have a hard time leaving his mouth. The only person he speaks to is Hattie, his courageous twin sister, who fiercely protects him, especially from bullies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJames Henry wants nothing more than to be brave again. However, finding his voice will mean confronting the truth about what happened at the lighthouse-a step James Henry isn't sure he can take. Until a blue moon is forecast, and as Gran has said, everything is possible under a rare blue moon . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e* \"An evocative, immediate novel with compelling characters and a wonderfully well-paced plot.\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review★ \"An \u003cb\u003eevocative\u003c\/b\u003e, immediate novel with compelling characters and a wonderfully well-paced plot.\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The theme of recovery after deep trauma \u003cb\u003eshines brightly\u003c\/b\u003e.” —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A poignantly \u003cb\u003ecompelling\u003c\/b\u003e intergenerational story that underlines themes of community and family, forgiveness, grief, and healing.\" —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"A \u003cb\u003ebeautiful\u003c\/b\u003e story written in verse.\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Root\u003c\/i\u003eSharon G. Flake is the author of \u003ci\u003eThe Skin I’m In, \u003c\/i\u003ewhich has sold over a million copies worldwide and has been translated into numerous languages. Since its publication, Flake has authored over a dozen books, winning multiple Coretta Scott King Honor Awards; ALA Notable and Top Ten Recommended Books citations, and an NAACP Image Award Nomination, among many accolades. She has been writing books from her home (and Panera’s) for over twenty years. \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eMe\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e People ask about the boy\u003cbr\u003e behind the door\u003cbr\u003e inside the house\u003cbr\u003e me.\u003cbr\u003e Mostly Sister gets the questions.\u003cbr\u003e She chases away boys\u003cbr\u003e girls too sometimes\u003cbr\u003e who wander onto our property\u003cbr\u003e to gawk and stare at me\u003cbr\u003e the one\u003cbr\u003e folks hardly see\u003cbr\u003e but everybody knows about.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Me and Sister\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie and me are twins\u003cbr\u003e not that we match exactly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She’s two inches taller\u003cbr\u003e I’m two minutes older\u003cbr\u003e a boy.\u003cbr\u003e Eleven\u003cbr\u003e though I seem younger.\u003cbr\u003e Maybe that’s why Hattie likes to boss me around.\u003cbr\u003e But I’m the captain\u003cbr\u003e today anyhow.\u003cbr\u003e Which means\u003cbr\u003e she’s got to follow my rules.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e My Condition\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sometimes\u003cbr\u003e I feel as small as a flea\u003cbr\u003e as little as the space between\u003cbr\u003e the numbers on a watch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It makes living hard\u003cbr\u003e staying inside easier than leaving the house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Right now\u003cbr\u003e I’m on my knees\u003cbr\u003e on the couch\u003cbr\u003e by the window\u003cbr\u003e staring out—­like usual.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie’s\u003cbr\u003e to the right of the porch\u003cbr\u003e next to the gravel walkway\u003cbr\u003e in front of the bushes Gran asked her to trim\u003cbr\u003e yesterday.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s a boy’s job\u003cbr\u003e my job\u003cbr\u003e but given my condition\u003cbr\u003e Hattie gets to take my place\u003cbr\u003e more than I’d like\u003cbr\u003e not that I like\u003cbr\u003e toting pails\u003cbr\u003e feeding chickens\u003cbr\u003e milking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The Way Things Are\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We live in Seed County, North Carolina.\u003cbr\u003e Daddy is in Detroit\u003cbr\u003e working.\u003cbr\u003e Here, it’s me\u003cbr\u003e Gran\u003cbr\u003e and Hattie in the house.\u003cbr\u003e Uncle comes by now and again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He don’t like me much.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Hattie’s Way\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e How many times you got to call\u003cbr\u003e a girl before she answers?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One time?\u003cbr\u003e Two times?\u003cbr\u003e Ten?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Hattie Mae!” I say again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Outside past the porch\u003cbr\u003e she squats low\u003cbr\u003e picks up a rope\u003cbr\u003e that came from Detroit\u003cbr\u003e wrapped around a box of new dresses\u003cbr\u003e sent to her by Daddy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She holds both ends\u003cbr\u003e swings\u003cbr\u003e that rope\u003cbr\u003e over her head\u003cbr\u003e jumps\u003cbr\u003e HIGH\u003cbr\u003e sends dirt flying.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Still\u003cbr\u003e she ignores me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Could be she’s mad at me.\u003cbr\u003e This is the third time this week I said\u003cbr\u003e I’d go outside\u003cbr\u003e try to anyhow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Only I can’t.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Sister’s Song\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister is dressed for Sunday\u003cbr\u003e when it’s only Wednesday.\u003cbr\u003e She sings while she jumps\u003cbr\u003e hops\u003cbr\u003e skips.\u003cbr\u003e “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But as soon as her song starts\u003cbr\u003e it stops.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Everybody’s got a condition,” she says.\u003cbr\u003e “Pastor wheezes when he preaches.\u003cbr\u003e Sneezes come spring.\u003cbr\u003e Still\u003cbr\u003e he gets out the house.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I get out\u003cbr\u003e at night, at least.\u003cbr\u003e If folks looked up, there I’d be\u003cbr\u003e on the roof\u003cbr\u003e under the sky\u003cbr\u003e talking to Hattie\u003cbr\u003e the only one allowed up there\u003cbr\u003e besides me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My rules\u003cbr\u003e even when I’m not the captain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Lighthouses and Blue Moons\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister takes her sweet time walking\u003cbr\u003e up the pine front-­porch steps\u003cbr\u003e sawed and nailed in place by Granddad, who built the house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Halfway between the porch and me\u003cbr\u003e she stops\u003cbr\u003e gives Gran a hug\u003cbr\u003e reminds her that there’ll be\u003cbr\u003e a blue moon in a few months’ time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Who don’t know that?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The almanac calls\u003cbr\u003e the second full moon in a month\u003cbr\u003e a blue moon.\u003cbr\u003e It don’t happen too often.\u003cbr\u003e Which makes it a big deal\u003cbr\u003e important\u003cbr\u003e unusual.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gran calls it a wishing moon.\u003cbr\u003e What you want for, wish for\u003cbr\u003e or need\u003cbr\u003e on that day is yours\u003cbr\u003e according to her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Which is why Hattie is nagging me so.\u003cbr\u003e If I’m to be rid of my condition\u003cbr\u003e she believes\u003cbr\u003e we need to get to the ocean\u003cbr\u003e on the night of the blue moon\u003cbr\u003e get to the lighthouse too\u003cbr\u003e where I was when everything changed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Which means\u003cbr\u003e I have to get out of this house first.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Only I can’t.\u003cbr\u003e Why don’t folks understand that?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ma would.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Hattie in the House\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie comes inside\u003cbr\u003e when I say I don’t feel so well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister swears it’s nothing.\u003cbr\u003e Just me worrying\u003cbr\u003e or about to.\u003cbr\u003e Still\u003cbr\u003e she puts her hand on my forehead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Feels like something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Needles poke my legs.\u003cbr\u003e Fire burns my toes and fingernails.\u003cbr\u003e My insides\u003cbr\u003e hum\u003cbr\u003e like guitar strings just plucked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s my nerves\u003cbr\u003e playing tricks on me\u003cbr\u003e Doc Edwards claimed\u003cbr\u003e during his once-­a-­month visit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Feels like something worse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Hattie,” Gran says from where she sits rocking\u003cbr\u003e on the porch,\u003cbr\u003e “leave him be.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie stands behind me.\u003cbr\u003e Hugs me.\u003cbr\u003e Brings up Doc Edwards.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I shiver\u003cbr\u003e get cold to the bone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My worrying is a worry to my soul\u003cbr\u003e brain\u003cbr\u003e blood and everything that makes\u003cbr\u003e me\u003cbr\u003e me\u003cbr\u003e Doc Edwards said before he left town for good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Get him outside in the sun.\u003cbr\u003e Drag him if you must,” he told Daddy\u003cbr\u003e not long after the accident\u003cbr\u003e plus a few more times besides.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Daddy never did. Never would.\u003cbr\u003e He understands me good as Ma.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Ma’s Twin\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Uncle said\u003cbr\u003e it was a fool’s errand\u003cbr\u003e that sent me to the ocean that night\u003cbr\u003e with Ma chasing after me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e More About Uncle\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Uncle\u003cbr\u003e never did trust up-­north\u003cbr\u003e big-­city\u003cbr\u003e fast-­talking\u003cbr\u003e pointy-­toed-­shoe-­wearing folk\u003cbr\u003e  Negro or white\u003cbr\u003e not even Daddy at first.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Till Ma introduced him to Daddy’s cousin Sarah.\u003cbr\u003e She’s our cousin and our aunt now.\u003cbr\u003e They married ten years ago.\u003cbr\u003e Got no kids\u003cbr\u003e just each other plus a big white house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Uncle came back south when Gran got sick.\u003cbr\u003e Ma followed.\u003cbr\u003e For just a spell they both said.\u003cbr\u003e Then he got a job with the railroad.\u003cbr\u003e Ma started teaching.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Six-­two\u003cbr\u003e pecan brown\u003cbr\u003e Uncle dresses in clothes plain as paper bags.\u003cbr\u003e Brown\u003cbr\u003e brown\u003cbr\u003e always brown.\u003cbr\u003e His car is fancy, though.\u003cbr\u003e His house has three floors. He built it himself.\u003cbr\u003e Some nights I stayed with them. He liked me then.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Ma\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e If it wasn’t for Ma\u003cbr\u003e I would believe what people say about me\u003cbr\u003e that I’m peculiar\u003cbr\u003e  odd\u003cbr\u003e a coward.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That night\u003cbr\u003e Ma called me brave\u003cbr\u003e  strong\u003cbr\u003e her little man\u003cbr\u003e the smartest boy in Seed County.\u003cbr\u003e I never told anybody that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Rooftop\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On my back\u003cbr\u003e on top the roof\u003cbr\u003e laying on a blanket\u003cbr\u003e with my toes aimed at the sky\u003cbr\u003e I forget my troubles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The moon lights up the night.\u003cbr\u003e Lights me up inside\u003cbr\u003e fills me up\u003cbr\u003e calms me down.\u003cbr\u003e Hattie too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister is nearby with her birds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Standing in front of cages\u003cbr\u003e stacked wide and high\u003cbr\u003e Hattie looks after her treasures\u003cbr\u003e doves\u003cbr\u003e that think they’re hawks.\u003cbr\u003e Twelve in all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Only Nutcracker is free right now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Above My Head\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nutcracker flaps his wings\u003cbr\u003e heads for his favorite spot\u003cbr\u003e a chicken-­wire fence Daddy put around the roof\u003cbr\u003e so we don’t fall off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie sets another dove free\u003cbr\u003e then another\u003cbr\u003e till\u003cbr\u003e there’s ten of us on the roof\u003cbr\u003e one complaining—­\u003cbr\u003e me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The others coo\u003cbr\u003e peck at seeds\u003cbr\u003e corn kernels\u003cbr\u003e dry peas\u003cbr\u003e that Hattie scatters\u003cbr\u003e in the cages\u003cbr\u003e on the roof\u003cbr\u003e and me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I close my eyes again\u003cbr\u003e think about Buck Rogers\u003cbr\u003e who is nothing like me.\u003cbr\u003e Full-­grown\u003cbr\u003e white\u003cbr\u003e he lives in the twenty-­fifth century\u003cbr\u003e five hundred years in the future.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ray guns.\u003cbr\u003e Starships.\u003cbr\u003e High-­frequency impulses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I never heard of such things\u003cbr\u003e before his radio show.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Uncle doesn’t like it one bit.\u003cbr\u003e Says Buck and me\u003cbr\u003e do the devil’s work\u003cbr\u003e by meditating on places\u003cbr\u003e God never wanted folk to go\u003cbr\u003e Venus\u003cbr\u003e Neptune\u003cbr\u003e Pluto\u003cbr\u003e the Milky Way\u003cbr\u003e the moon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When I think on them\u003cbr\u003e and other things above\u003cbr\u003e I don’t fear anything.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Night Trains\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The train runs along the track\u003cbr\u003e behind our house.\u003cbr\u003e Black\u003cbr\u003e spitting steam\u003cbr\u003e it heads this way\u003cbr\u003e on its way to the station.\u003cbr\u003e Hattie’s birds squawk and swoop.\u003cbr\u003e I\u003cbr\u003e pretend\u003cbr\u003e I’m in first class\u003cbr\u003e on my way to Sirius.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Captain Me\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie sits beside me\u003cbr\u003e in a rain barrel I sawed in half.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I check the controls—­\u003cbr\u003e buttons and knobs\u003cbr\u003e whittled out of wood\u003cbr\u003e hammered\u003cbr\u003e and\u003cbr\u003e nailed into place with my very own hands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister shifts gears using an old ax handle she swings in the air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Ready?” I ask.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister salutes.\u003cbr\u003e “Aye, aye, Captain.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Head protector?” I ask.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She pats her helmet\u003cbr\u003e Gran’s old church hat covered in tinfoil.\u003cbr\u003e “Check,” she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Rocket fuel?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister lifts a seltzer bottle full of well water.\u003cbr\u003e “Enough for a month, sir.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Jet pack?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Yes sir.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We got suspenders strapped on our backs\u003cbr\u003e stitched to feed sacks filled with dried peas\u003cbr\u003e handmade by Gran.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie Mae licks her baby finger.\u003cbr\u003e Holds it high.\u003cbr\u003e “Good news, James Henry. Yesterday’s storm\u003cbr\u003e did not excite the wind too much.\u003cbr\u003e We should make it to Neptune in record time\u003cbr\u003e without being blown off course.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I bolt the cabin door shut. “Ready?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Set,” Hattie says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Blast off!” we scream.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The train rolls by.\u003cbr\u003e Houses rumble and shake\u003cbr\u003e including ours.\u003cbr\u003e Smoke from the engine nearly blinds us.\u003cbr\u003e Still\u003cbr\u003e I see coloreds and whites on different planets.\u003cbr\u003e Neptune not that far away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e To Outer Space and Beyond\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Space rocks!” Hattie Mae hollers at the top of her lungs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her birds know their parts.\u003cbr\u003e Most times they stay in their cages\u003cbr\u003e but before we got started she set ’em free\u003cbr\u003e eight of ’em anyhow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pullman circles the roof—\u003cbr\u003e Squawk!—\u003cbr\u003e dives down\u003cbr\u003e grabs buttons with his claws\u003cbr\u003e drops ’em on us.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Aberdeen\u003cbr\u003e named after Ma\u003cbr\u003e goes for the acorns.\u003cbr\u003e Other birds pick up sticks\u003cbr\u003e just like Sister trained ’em.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Our anti-­radiation tinfoil hats\u003cbr\u003e get hit from every which direction.\u003cbr\u003e It doesn’t hurt us any.\u003cbr\u003e It’s our rocket ship that’s damaged.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The engine cuts off.\u003cbr\u003e “Sssssssss,” Sister says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The cabin light follows.\u003cbr\u003e Birds go back in their cages.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the dark\u003cbr\u003e without power\u003cbr\u003e we drift off course—­like Buck Rogers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Down\u003cbr\u003e down\u003cbr\u003e down\u003cbr\u003e our spaceship goes\u003cbr\u003e till we’re in a part of the universe\u003cbr\u003e we never saw before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister pulls out a flashlight.\u003cbr\u003e  The head is covered with cheesecloth.\u003cbr\u003e Light rays shoot from it like sun through fog.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It’s . . . so empty out here. Quiet,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister screams, “Aliens!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I zap their tentacles with cow’s milk.\u003cbr\u003e Point to our instruments spinning out of control.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie grabs her throat. Coughs. “We’re losing oxygen. . . .\u003cbr\u003e I . . . I’m dying . . . James Henry.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She faints\u003cbr\u003e the way them movie stars do at the picture show\u003cbr\u003e flopping over the side of the rocket ship\u003cbr\u003e eyes crossed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stand up. “I . . . won’t . . . fail . . . you . . . Sister!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh goodness,” I hear Gran say from inside the house.\u003cbr\u003e “The whole dang town can hear ya.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e With all my strength\u003cbr\u003e I give the instruments a good hard kick.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie comes to. “Thank goodness.”\u003cbr\u003e Sits up\u003cbr\u003e claps.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A few hundred million miles later\u003cbr\u003e we’re floating through space in peace.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Captains Ain’t Afraid\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I\u003cbr\u003e shut down the engine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Have you ever seen anything like it, Hattie?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Not in all my born days.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I unbuckle my belt\u003cbr\u003e decompress the hatch like Buck.\u003cbr\u003e Open the door.\u003cbr\u003e Check my oxygen levels.\u003cbr\u003e Take off my helmet\u003cbr\u003e and breathe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Space air smells sweeter than earth air.\u003cbr\u003e More like them green-­apple pies Gran bakes\u003cbr\u003e and wins prizes for.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Up here\u003cbr\u003e we can drink from any fountain.\u003cbr\u003e Sit in any seat we want.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie nods, then follows me out.\u003cbr\u003e “When we meet those space people\u003cbr\u003e don’t be scared, you hear?” she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I beat my chest. “I’m the captain.\u003cbr\u003e And captains ain’t afraid of nothing.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie floats past me\u003cbr\u003e because there’s no gravity in space.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Tiptoeing behind birdcages, we search for stuff\u003cbr\u003e we came with earlier\u003cbr\u003e chicken feet\u003cbr\u003e tree bark\u003cbr\u003e rabbit teeth\u003cbr\u003e eggshells stomped to pieces.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Things we astronauts call by other names\u003cbr\u003e meteorites\u003cbr\u003e space dust\u003cbr\u003e moon rocks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Space critters sure are messy,” Sister says.\u003cbr\u003e Kneeling\u003cbr\u003e she picks up pine needles\u003cbr\u003e drops ’em into medicine bottles\u003cbr\u003e calls ’em alien bones.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The sound of Gran’s bell\u003cbr\u003e a cooking pot she hits with a wooden spoon\u003cbr\u003e finds us way up here in outer space.\u003cbr\u003e “Suppertime! Y’all come,” she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We keep exploring\u003cbr\u003e filling our helmets with our finds\u003cbr\u003e lose track of time until I hear something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Squeak.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I\u003cbr\u003e freeze.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Seems like my heart stops too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie Mae swallows. “It’s nothing.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s them and she knows it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister keeps to her space job\u003cbr\u003e collecting marbles\u003cbr\u003e we plan to trade with space pirates\u003cbr\u003e in case we need to bargain for our lives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Squeak.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My fingers find my mouth.\u003cbr\u003e I chew my nails.\u003cbr\u003e Between bites, I ask\u003cbr\u003e if she heard what I heard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister lies. “No.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “You had to, Hattie. I know it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I back up\u003cbr\u003e find the darkest part of the roof\u003cbr\u003e the space between the cages and the fence.\u003cbr\u003e Squatting\u003cbr\u003e I squeeze my eyes tight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Squeak.”\u003cbr\u003e “Squeak.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “James Henry. We know you up there.\u003cbr\u003e You coward.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The Baker Brothers\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Titus Baker, take this.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Ouch!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sister pitches coals over the chicken-­wire fence like baseballs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her aim is always perfect.\u003cbr\u003e Titus Baker finds that out soon enough.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Hattie Mae,” he shouts up to us.\u003cbr\u003e “Your brother’s got it coming, and you know it!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I try to keep myself calm.\u003cbr\u003e But my mind ignores me\u003cbr\u003e like always.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Run.\u003cbr\u003e Go in the house.\u003cbr\u003e Hide under the kitchen table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My forehead gets wet as water.\u003cbr\u003e Drips sweat.\u003cbr\u003e I rub my eyes\u003cbr\u003e but cannot wipe my thoughts clean.\u003cbr\u003e So\u003cbr\u003e I take off running.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pecans fly over the chicken wire like bullets\u003cbr\u003e hit my chest\u003cbr\u003e sting my neck\u003cbr\u003e chase Hattie’s birds\u003cbr\u003e rattle the rest still in cages.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I go back to where I was.\u003cbr\u003e Hattie follows.\u003cbr\u003e Crouching low beside me\u003cbr\u003e Sister reminds me that there’s a blue moon coming and\u003cbr\u003e when a blue moon shows up\u003cbr\u003e everything\u003cbr\u003e is\u003cbr\u003e set\u003cbr\u003e right\u003cbr\u003e again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Everything?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My hands tremble like collards in a December wind.\u003cbr\u003e “Even me?”\u003cbr\u003e I think of myself the way I used to be.\u003cbr\u003e Brave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Even you, James Henry.\u003cbr\u003e Which is why tomorrow you have to start practicing\u003cbr\u003e getting out the house and\u003cbr\u003e used to the world again.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I want to agree\u003cbr\u003e but my thoughts won’t go along.\u003cbr\u003e They\u003cbr\u003e ruminate\u003cbr\u003e pester\u003cbr\u003e worry me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What if she’s wrong?\u003cbr\u003e What if I make it to the ocean and drown\u003cbr\u003e once and for all this time?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e The Baker Brothers Plus One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “James Henry!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Baker brothers live\u003cbr\u003e up the road a piece.\u003cbr\u003e Their father’s cow always breaks free\u003cbr\u003e finds its way to our house.\u003cbr\u003e The brothers—­five of them—­are mean as ground hornets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Want to go swimming?” Titus shouts.\u003cbr\u003e He’s the eldest Baker boy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Don’t let me come down there,” says Hattie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Them Bakers standing with their cousin Red\u003cbr\u003e bring up other things\u003cbr\u003e that scare me\u003cbr\u003e fire\u003cbr\u003e crowds\u003cbr\u003e leaving home\u003cbr\u003e folks touching me\u003cbr\u003e all except Hattie, Gran, or Daddy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Sister,\u003cbr\u003e you won’t let ’em get up here, will you?” I ask.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “No, Brother. I won’t.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Gran won’t either, will she?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Never, James Henry.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “And if they come\u003cbr\u003e they won’t find me, right?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “They won’t get past me, James Henry.\u003cbr\u003e I’ll always protect you. You and me twins.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “But what if there’s lots of ’em sometime?\u003cbr\u003e A whole crowd of ’em.\u003cbr\u003e A town’s worth\u003cbr\u003e of kids trying to get to me.\u003cbr\u003e Then what?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “They know, James Henry, that I\u003cbr\u003e can whip the whole lot of them, if I must.\u003cbr\u003e We’ve been on the moon, haven’t we?\u003cbr\u003e To Ursa Major and back.\u003cbr\u003e Me and you can do anything.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Anything.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Yeah, twins are like that.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I get on my knees.\u003cbr\u003e Breathe in slow and easy.\u003cbr\u003e Remind myself that long as Hattie is with me,\u003cbr\u003e nothing bad can truly happen.\u003cbr\u003e But then I smell it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e SMOKE.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Sister Saves Me, Again\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie tells me to stay put\u003cbr\u003e Not to\u003cbr\u003e look.\u003cbr\u003e Not to\u003cbr\u003e think\u003cbr\u003e what she already knows\u003cbr\u003e I’m thinking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What if the house burns down?\u003cbr\u003e What if Gran can’t get out?\u003cbr\u003e What if we’re trapped up here?\u003cbr\u003e What help would I be?\u003cbr\u003e I couldn’t even save Ma or Dog.\u003cbr\u003e Just stood there.\u003cbr\u003e Not even Hattie knows the whole story.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e More smoke floats up to our planet.\u003cbr\u003e I cover my nose and mouth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie calls for two birds\u003cbr\u003e Wilma\u003cbr\u003e named after Buck Rogers’s assistant\u003cbr\u003e and Pullman\u003cbr\u003e named for the dignified\u003cbr\u003e hardworking\u003cbr\u003e sleeping-car porters\u003cbr\u003e who formed their very own union.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Get ’em!” she shouts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hattie ain’t the captain. I am.\u003cbr\u003e Sometimes she forgets that.\u003cbr\u003e Like now\u003cbr\u003e when she jumps over the chicken-­wire fence\u003cbr\u003e leaps to the ground\u003cbr\u003e with her arms wide as dragon wings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I run to the chicken wire\u003cbr\u003e cheering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Bakers and their cousin Red\u003cbr\u003e run too\u003cbr\u003e up the road in every which direction.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Anybody would,\u003cbr\u003e with Hattie and her birds\u003cbr\u003e chasing ’em.","brand":"Yearling","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302200266981,"sku":"NP9780593481011","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593481011.jpg?v=1767734140","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/once-in-a-blue-moon-isbn-9780593481011","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}