Caroline Starr Rose
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"If May is a brave, stubborn fighter, the short, free-verse lines are one-two punches in this Laura Ingalls Wilder-inspired ode to the human spirit." — Kirkus Reviews, Starred
I've known it since last night:
It's been too long to expect them to return.
May is helping out on a neighbor's Kansas prairie homestead—just until Christmas, says Pa. She wants to contribute, but it's hard to be separated from her family by 15 long, unfamiliar miles. Then the unthinkable happens: May is abandoned. Trapped in a tiny snow-covered sod house, isolated from family and neighbors, May must prepare for the oncoming winter. While fighting to survive, May's memories of her struggles with reading at school come back to haunt her. But she's determined to find her way home again. Caroline Starr Rose's fast-paced novel, written in beautiful and riveting verse, gives readers a strong new heroine to love.
From the Hardcover edition.
115 I remove the pots from the stove, letting the water cool just a bit, then scrub at the crusted film left behind. Mess slops on the floor; wet patches bloom on the bodice of my dress. I have no place to throw this filth, no water to rinse clean. For the first time since the blizzard morning, I pull open the door, dreading to see things left as they were before. A shiny layer of ice on the solid wall of snow reminds me of the water I threw. With the broom handle, I
schooling a challenge. Would a girl who couldn’t read well have been kept out of school? Would she have been chastised for not trying hard enough? Or would her intelligence have been recognized? In this book, May struggles with dyslexia, a learning disability that hampers a person’s capacity to process what is read. Dyslexia was unknown in the nineteenth century. It varies in each reader, although difficulties with reading fluency, word recognition, and comprehension are common, as are the
write for two different editors. Nicole Geiger has been an unflagging enthusiast, careful reader, and mentor through this whole process. When she told me May B. was the sort of book she’d loved as a child, I knew it would be safe in her hands. Emily Seife’s commitment to May and her personal growth pushed me to discover new ways to challenge my character and flesh her out more fully. Emily, I’ve appreciated every honest “not there yet” that has kept me working hard. Michelle Humphrey, my agent,
hardly older than I. “This here’s where you’ll sleep.” She holds out her arm, like showing me a spot vast as the prairie. Not a hint of privacy— a dingy corner, muslin pinned across the ceiling stained brown from rain that seeps through the sod. I stand straight. “Thank you, ma’am.” Mrs. Oblinger slices the air with one finger. “Use this crate for your belongings.” She catches my glance at the ceiling, the sagging cloth already filled with bits of soil. I drop my chin,
My fingernails dig into the cover … ana greeable … I fling my reader; it smacks the wall. Why can’t I do this? What is wrong with me? I can speak, and hear, and see, and understand when someone reads to me. I follow lessons at school, and Ma’s directions in the kitchen. I know what words mean. So why can’t I do this? I must be stupid. 54 It is morning. There is no water, no fuel. It was foolish to waste time last night. 55 A sack of