Yankee Doodle E-Book

Loretta Welch

• Herausgeber: Gemma Open Door for Literacy
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 42

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Beschreibung

The Charles River divides Boston and Cambridge, and the Red Line ties the cities together, traveling through classes and cultures along its route. When an unlikely group shares an afternoon train, the riders are surprised to discover what's common in their American experience.

Leseprobe

LORETTA WELCH

Yankee Doodle

After studying in Trinity College, Dublin, and working in publishing in San Francisco, Loretta Welch landed in Boston’s North End, steps away from the shore on which her immigrant ancestors first set foot, five generations ago. Yankee Doodle is Welch’s first book.

First published by GemmaMedia in 2011.

GemmaMedia230 Commercial StreetBoston, MA 02109 USA

www.gemmamedia.com

© 2011 by Loretta WelchAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles of reviews.

Printed in the United States of America

15   14   13   12   11               1   2   3   4   5

978-1-934848-53-1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cover by Night & Day Design

Inspired by the Irish series of books designed for adult literacy, Gemma Open Door Foundation provides fresh stories, new ideas and resources for young people and adults as they embrace the power of reading and the written word.

For Kathleen

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

Memory

ONE

Stella Comes To Town

TWO

Red Line, Or Stella Goes To Work

THREE

Neighbors

FOUR

Mrs F

FIVE

Red Line, Or Stella Hears Music

SIX

Lost

SEVEN

Roots

EIGHT

Found

INTRODUCTION

Memory

“Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod!”

“He is, like, the weirdest teacher, and he actually, like, made a joke!”

“English is, like, so dull and then he goes, he goes, he goes . . .”

“ ‘Class bewitched!’ ” squawked the shortest.

“ . . . and I looked at Hai and we were like, ohmygod!”

The brace of teenagers burst on to the car, a second or two before the doors closed. Three flew into seats, and the others grabbed at holding rails, looking like they were about to do chin-ups over their lucky friends, or maybe drool on their heads. iPod cords and other wires dangled like ornaments on jeans, backpacks, and out of a couple of ears.

“I thought maybe he came from, I don’t know, like Idaho or Duluth or something. So lame.” These kids talked fast, really fast.

“Those shoes, man. I’m, like, my GRANDdad wouldn’t wear them.”

“Yeah, but you can hear him coming, Thuy. Handy on Fridays!”

“More like Mars. Landed in the corn and became, like, a zombie.”

“You see Lien’s neck? She says the Revere Vampire’s still ‘at large.’ ” Fingers making quotation marks.

“Bet it was Bao. They hit the mall during world history. Some vampire. So gross.”

“And then, did you die? At lunch, Minh was telling Sean, and he, like, laughed so hard milk came out of his nose.”

“So weird, I never drink milk at my house.”

“Me neither . . . get off! . . . but I always drink it at school.”

“So we were, like, ‘whatever.’ Central Square is always, like, SO FULL. Oh wait, there’s room up there. Run!”

And the whole group squealed and lurched to the end of the car and kept up the review of their school day. The skinny boy with a pink streak on the very peak of his hair landed almost on top of Stella. She had been watching and dodged the backpack . . . just.

“So, Mr Kavanagh is like, sort of, funny!”

“Oh, come ON! He’s human. Well, sort of. I’m sure he, like, just made a mistake.”

Coming home on the Red Line, as the train came out of the ground and up over the Charles River, Stella leaned her head back against the ad for night school and closed her eyes. She felt the late afternoon sun flicker over her face as the car passed the towers on what locals call the Salt and Pepper Bridge. She was tired, and it felt good to rest and let the light play on her eyelids. Rocking back and forth with the motion, she got a little closer to sleep and remembered another time, another overheard conversation, another trip on this train. She smiled.

ONE

Stella Comes To Town

From Ashmont to Mattapan, the subway changes to an old trolley car, the kind they built when the oldest underground railway in the country was brand new. Like a brave little toy train, a single car picks up riders who get out of the “real” train, and then it takes them to their final stop. Passing the back yards and shuttered windows of houses lining the track, people look out on triple-deckers and an old mill over the river that used to bring power to a brick factory along its banks. Left empty long ago, the plant is hung with signs offering fixed-up lofts for sale to young people looking for new homes. The trolley car passes by an antique cemetery, so old nobody can be buried there anymore. The glass in the train windows is aged, and a good bit dirty, and it casts the view outside in sepia, that yellow tint that makes movies look old.