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Overview
"An excellent bibliotherapy book to help middle-schoolers talk about AIDS and cope with the death of a loved one." - Booklist
Crystal's older sister, Janelle, just won second place in a writing contest, and her younger sister, Roxann, was picked to sing a solo in the school play. It's difficult to be in the middle of two gifted sisters–especially when Crystal thinks she has no talents of her own.
Then Uncle Joe comes to town and Crystal finds comfort in their friendship, and starts to feel special. But when she is told that Uncle Joe is dying of AIDS, she must come to grips with his illness. In the process, Crystal learns a lot about her strong family, about life, and most of all, about herself. Full of hope and optimism, this coming–of–age story explores life and death, and one family's struggle to stick together through hard times.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781627799508 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Henry Holt and Co. (BYR) |
| Publication date: | 11/10/2015 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 128 |
| File size: | 191 KB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Melrose Cooper was inspired to write Life Magic after someone dear to her lost a close friend to AIDS. As a frequent speaker at urban elementary schools, Ms. Cooper is always surprised by the number of children whose lives are affected directly or indirectly by AIDS. She hopes that writing about the subject will make it a little easier for young readers to understand a very painful and difficult illness.
The mother of six children, a granddaughter, and many pets, Ms. Cooper lives in Hamburg, New York.
Melrose Cooper was inspired to write Life Magic after someone dear to her lost a close friend to AIDS. As a frequent speaker at urban elementary schools, Ms. Cooper is always surprised by the number of children whose lives are affected directly or indirectly by AIDS. She hopes that writing about the subject will make it a little easier for young readers to understand a very painful and difficult illness.
The mother of six children, a granddaughter, and many pets, Ms. Cooper lives in Hamburg, New York.
Read an Excerpt
Life Magic
By Melrose Cooper
Henry Holt and Company
Copyright © 1996 Melrose CooperAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62779-950-8
CHAPTER 1
I was sure happy to say hello to autumn. Not that I didn't like summer, mind you. But this particular year, summer was a roller coaster. A good-bad, up-down, back-and-forth ride, like my sister Janelle had said.
She's the smart one. Even got a few of her stories published in magazines when she was just thirteen years old.
Roxann's real quiet. She's the baby, and I mean that like it sounds. Mama finally gave up trying to get Roxann to stop sucking her thumb.
Except for being in the middle, I never did know quite where I fit in. Till the magic touched my life. Life magic, I call it.
But getting back to that summer, it had been one thing after another. Janelle got famous. Mama lost her job. Daddy came home after being gone a whole year, separated from Mama, and got a new job. And we were a family again.
It was good. And bad. Because it was different. Lots of new rules. That's why I was glad to start school. Or thought I was, till I actually got there.
See, it all started with my sixth-grade teacher. Wanted me to be tested. Said I might have some reading and language delays. That's how she put it.
Mind you, I had never been a shining star in school like Janelle, but I got by. Mama made a big deal about the A's I got on last year's report card to make me feel good. But two of them were in gym and music and the other was for spelling.
So in October, Miss Ross sent a note to my parents. Through the mail, like maybe she didn't trust me to give it to them or something. Said I needed some kind of testing for reading.
Daddy said, "Ain't nothin' wrong with your readin', girl. You just got to do more of it, is all."
Janelle said, "We could start a chapter book tonight, Crystal, if you want." That meant that she'd read a page, then I'd read a page, and so on, and she'd have to help me with the big words. I knew she was trying to be kind, but I felt mad at her for saying it all the same.
Mama sighed. "Better to find out if something's wrong now rather than wait. Might as well have you tested." She smiled, but I knew her teeth would've shown a lot more if I had told her I got an A on a book report or won an English award like Janelle instead.
Maybe Miss Ross was wrong, I thought. I decided to let my strong points defend me. "What about spelling?" I asked Mama. "Stupids don't get A's in spelling."
Mama shook her head and sighed again. "Crystal, nobody said anything about being stupid. Anyway, spelling may be a totally different function. I've known people who can write but can't spell and people who can spell but can't write."
Roxann just sucked her thumb and tended to her new twin dolls, Dennis and Denise. Our Aunt Barbara, who lives upstairs, gave them to her for not crying the first day of first grade.
Right about then, I was wishing my thumb and I were best friends, too. I decided I couldn't wait to ask Aunt Barbara's opinion of getting tested. She was always full of what she called life riddles, little sayings she made up or picked up from other places.
"I'm going to Aunt Barbara's," I said and hurried out before anyone could give me a chore.
Aunt Barbara was making beaded earrings for her friend Ophelia's birthday. They worked together at the public library.
I told her the story about Miss Ross's letter and she said, "There are worse things, and you know, Crystal, sometimes when one door shuts, another one opens."
Before I had a chance to ask her what doors had to do with reading and language delays, she asked, "Gold or silver?" and held up the earrings she was making for Ophelia.
I looked at the hooks. "Silver," I decided. "The beads are blue and white and gray. Silver goes better."
"You're right," Aunt Barbara said. "You've got an artist's eye for color."
"Sure, Aunt Barbara," I said. She didn't know I was just okay at art, too. I always tried avoiding the subject around her because she was so good at it. Some of her weavings and other crafts had won awards at local shows. Like my uncle Joe the artist. He was her and Mama's brother. He used to say I had talent, but that was when I was little, and he lived out of town now.
When I got back downstairs, Daddy and Mama were playing Scrabble. Roxann was pretend-reading to Dennis and Denise. Janelle was in our room, writing in her journal. My whole family, doing word things. Just what I needed!
Janelle looked up. "Want to start a book?" she asked. "I just checked out two new ones."
I was hoping she had forgotten. "Uh, sure," I said because I couldn't think of an excuse fast enough.
She opened a book called Sweet and Sour Lemons. The title reminded me of the plaque on Aunt Barbara's kitchen wall that says, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
"You suppose it's about that, making something sweet out of something sour?" I asked.
"Won't know until we read it," Janelle said, sitting up straight. Her eyes had that twinkle they always get when she begins new books. New experiences, she calls them.
I stared at my sister till my own eyes teared. I wondered if anything would ever make me gleam so bright.
CHAPTER 2They did the testing. I had to go down to Mrs. King's room three days in a row. I didn't mind on Wednesday because that was music class. But Thursday was another thing. That was gym, and we were jump roping. I didn't mind on Friday because that was only science review and I was interested in the weather chapter anyway, so the facts were already stuck in my head.
What I minded most was Lamar Wilkes, the new kid. Some of the kids were afraid of him. He was always starting fights or picking on people, seemed like for no reason. When he took the attendance to the office on Thursday, he saw me duck into Mrs. King's room. Soon as I saw him see me, I knew I was in for it.
Sure enough, at lunch he asked me, "How come you were at Mrs. King's?"
"Just because," I said. Darn, I thought, I should've come up with something better before.
"I don't know anybody who goes to Mrs. King's just because," Lamar said.
"Oh yeah?" I snapped. "Well, now you do." I felt proud of myself.
Then Lamar smirked, real nasty, like he knew something. And I got a chill like when Leon Rivera scratches his fingernails on the chalkboard just to make everybody shiver.
Meanwhile, during the wait for the test results, my family made sure I was reading up a storm. It was like October had suddenly been named Crystal's Reading Reform Month. Sweet and Sour Lemons turned out to be a decent experience, just like Janelle said.
Plus, Roxann made me read every night to Dennis and Denise. She was the one who actually liked the snuggling at story time, but I didn't mind pretending. Only thing I really minded was reading the same books over and over. And over.
Mama said that repeating was good for kids that age because that's how they learn. "That's fine," I said. "And they're good books, long as you hear them once or twice a week."
But Roxann insisted, and pretty soon I was reciting those stories like my own name and address. And sometimes my head played tricks on me at night and kept saying them over and over when I was trying to get to sleep.
So one day I really got tired of the same stories, and when I was browsing the library shelves to find material for my praying mantis report, I came across a book called Big Bugs and Beautiful Beetles. Turned out I fell in love with it like Roxann did, so I didn't mind reading it over and over. The pictures were great, too. Life-size insects crawling on everyday things, looking like they could jump right off the pages in a blink. I stared and stared at them. And sometimes I thought they moved. Honest.
I decided I might be an insect expert when I grew up. Entomologist, it's called. I only know that because Ophelia told me when I checked out the book.
Daddy thought he was real clever about helping with my reading. "Crystal," he'd say, "I don't have my glasses. Could you read me the dose on this medicine label?"
Or it would be "Could one of you girls check the TV Topics and tell me what's on at nine?" and I'd just happen to be the one next to the newspaper pile.
Mama and Aunt Barbara were the only ones acting sensible about it. One day I heard Mama say to Aunt Barbara, "Nothing's going to change in a week or two. Better find out first what's what, then do whatever needs to be done."
"Readin' can't hurt her, though," said Aunt Barbara, "even so."
"That's true enough," Mama said before they went on to talking about the patients at Mama's new hospital job.
The reading part was okay with me. It was the finding out what's what that had me scared.
CHAPTER 3Every time I thought about the testing, I felt like a rock had plopped splat into my stomach. Three whole weeks dragged by like lazy slugs while I waited for the results. Then three things happened all in one day, the first Friday in November.
Mrs. Durphy, the music teacher, picked Roxann to sing a solo for the primary grades' Christmas play. I wondered for the life of me how someone shy like Roxann would ever be able to pull it off, but she did like singing. Come to think of it, Roxann liked anything to do with music, so she'd probably be just fine, long as she kept her thumb out of her mouth.
And Janelle won another prize. This one was second place for best nonfiction article in the whole school.
She was her usual excited self when she broke the news at suppertime. "And guess what! I get to miss school to go to the Convention Center for the recognition ceremony. And I even get to have lunch with the author and illustrator who are presenting the awards!"
Aunt Barbara was down for dinner because it was her day off and Daddy's turn to work late at the hardware store. She had surprised Mama with a glazed ham and scalloped potatoes.
Aunt Barbara laughed and said, "Janelle, take a breath, will you, and tell me who the author is." Being a librarian, she was always interested in that kind of thing.
Janelle mumbled, "Not sure," and went to get her backpack while she was still chewing a mouthful of ham.
She pulled out her invitation and gave it to Aunt Barbara.
"Marsal White!" Aunt Barbara exclaimed. "She wrote Big Bugs and Beautiful Beetles. She's right from around here, you know."
"No, I didn't know," Janelle said.
"Crystal," Roxann whispered, but Aunt Barbara's voice went on louder.
"Her son Broward White illustrated the book. It's fabulous. Have you seen it?"
"Crystal," Roxann said a little louder. I almost swallowed a ham piece whole. When I didn't answer, Roxann exchanged her fork for her thumb.
"No," Janelle said to Aunt Barbara. "I haven't seen it. I'll be sure to, though."
I didn't say a thing. I could feel the anger turning my coffee-with-cream-colored cheeks V8 red. "No fair!" I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. It was like all the energy was stuck in my burning face. I'm the one who loves that book, and she gets to meet the author and the illustrator. Figures.
I silently went to my backpack, then came back and slid the book across the table to Aunt Barbara. She looked at me funny, like she couldn't believe I knew about it. I went to my room before she could say whatever it was rolling around in her mind and trickling down to her tongue.
Even when I put my earmuffs on, I could hear her and Mama oohing over Roxann because of the solo and aahing over Janelle's writing award. The mind keeps hearing what the ears block out.
The third thing happened while I was doing my long-division homework. I glanced up to think about what nine into eighty-two would be when there was Mama at my door, motioning me to take off my earmuffs.
"Cold?" she asked.
"Nope," I said. "Just concentrating is all."
She believed me and said, "Mrs. King called this morning just before I went to work. Just like Miss Ross suspected, your testing shows a few problems. Nothing really drastic."
Mama smiled and made her voice go up. "You'll be going to Mrs. King's remedial reading class three times a week, starting Monday. All that means is that you'll be getting some extra help with your reading and language skills."
Skills? I wanted to laugh out loud. Instead I asked, "How long do I have to go there for?" I made my own voice sound braver than I felt.
"Well ..." Mama hesitated. "Just for this year, and then we'll see."
"Oh," I said and quickly asked, "What's nine into eighty-two?"
I wasn't good at expressing myself. Mind you, if that was Janelle being told remedial reading class, she'd sure shriek out, "Skills!" in a laugh. Then she'd sob with her face all crinkled up, right in front of anybody at all. Not me, though. No way.
I wrote down Mama's answer, but looking at the paper was just my way of not crying till she was away from my door. I just kept looking at the numbers and saying them in Spanish over and over in my head. I really had to concentrate, since the numbers were the only Spanish words I knew. Learned them from watching one of Roxann's TV shows. It stopped me from thinking what "remedial reading class" really meant for me, especially once Lamar Wilkes found out.
Later in the tub, I let the tears run down the drain fast as my shower water could wash them away.
When I got into my bed, Janelle was writing in her journal, like always. Roxann was breathing softly in her sleep, her thumb barely touching one side of her mouth.
I went to sleep, glad that tomorrow was the weekend.
I didn't know yet about the fourth thing. It happened on Saturday morning.
CHAPTER 4I slept late like I planned. No reason for me to get up. No celebrating on my part. Just plain worry, thinking about Monday and that remedial reading class.
Besides, my homework was done from the night before. I wished I could sleep the whole weekend away. Matter of fact, I was wishing I might catch some sleeping sickness and not wake up for ten months. Then Mama and Daddy'd be so glad to see me, they wouldn't even mention school.
Only reason I finally did get up was because the carrying-on woke me.
I peeked into the kitchen. Daddy, Mama, Aunt Barbara, and my sisters were group-hugging and jumping around like African dancers. I got that feeling Mama calls déjà vu. It was just like when Janelle got her first author's check and when we found out that Daddy was coming home again.
Mama saw me and motioned me over. "Crystal," she cried. "Your uncle Joe's comin' back!"
"Really?" I started jumping with them, too.
Uncle Joe was cool. He never forgot anyone's birthday and always made his own cards. He'd gone to California when I was five, and been back to visit only four times. Mostly we got to know him from his letters and from what Aunt Barbara and Mama told us.
I had a few memories of Uncle Joe, all good. He was the one who taught me to make snow angels. I hate the cold. Always have, even when I was a well-bundled baby. Every time Shawna, my best friend, says, "Let's go ice skating on Delaware Park Lake" or "How about sledding at Gunther's Hill?" I make up excuses. And then she gets mad because she has to go with her brother Kevin. And Janelle takes Roxann out to make snowmen, not me.
But somehow the cold wasn't so bad when Uncle Joe got me out in it. Now, all of a sudden, I was wishing for snow.
Best of all, he had a nickname for me. Miss Crys, he called me. Nobody else ever called me anything but Crystal.
"When? When's he coming home?" I asked.
"Next week Saturday," Daddy answered. "Want to pick him up at the airport with me?"
"Yeah!" Janelle, Roxann, and I chorused.
While I was gulping down some Wheat Chex, I listened to Mama and Aunt Barbara making plans. "I'd better get my spare room fixed up," Aunt Barbara said. "Won't be spare for long."
"You mean Uncle Joe is staying here?" I asked.
"Uh-huh. Right upstairs with me till he finds his own place," Aunt Barbara said.
"Let me give you a hand with the furniture," Daddy offered, sipping the last drops of his coffee and sliding out from the table.
Janelle said, "I'm going to write Uncle Joe a welcome-home poem."
Roxann mumbled with her thumb half in, half out, "I don't remember no Uncle Joe."
"'Course you don't, baby," Mama told her. "You weren't even talking when he left and you're barely out of kindergarten now."
"Roxann," I said, "wanna help me make a welcome-home sign when I get back from Shawna's?" I figured it might make her feel more included.
"Okay," she said.
After breakfast I walked the two blocks to Shawna's building, strutting like a proud peacock all the way, just from being so happy. When I got there, Shawna's mother said, "You're in fine feather today, Crystal." I laughed, thinking about the peacock, and told them the news.
Shawna asked, "Why's your uncle Joe coming back here?"
"'Cause here is home, I guess," I answered.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Life Magic by Melrose Cooper. Copyright © 1996 Melrose Cooper. Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company.
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