Hood Susan - Lifeboat 12

SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS An imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com Text copyright 2018 by Susan Hood Jacket illustration copyright 2018 by Mike Heath All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or . The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. Book design by Greg Stadnyk Map illustration copyright Thinkstock Jacket design by Greg Stadnyk Jacket illustration copyright 2018 by Mike Heath Telegram photograph: Courtesy of Kathleen Gill, Sunderland Volunteer Life Brigade Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Hood, Susan, author.

Title: Lifeboat 12 / Susan Hood. Other titles: Lifeboat twelve Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, [2018] | Summary: In 1940, a group of British children, their escorts, and some sailors struggle to survive in a lifeboat when the ship taking them to safety in Canada is torpedoed. Includes historical notes. Identifiers: LCCN 2017034872| ISBN 9781481468831 (hardcover : alk. | SurvivalFiction. | World War, 19391945Evacuation of civiliansGreat Britain--Fiction. | World War, 19391945ChildrenFiction. | Ocean travelFiction. | Ocean linersFiction. | LifeboatsFiction. | LifeboatsFiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.5.H665 Lif 2018 | DDC [Fic]dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017034872

I glance down the hall to make sure Im alone. I slide my finger under the flap, and peer inside. Dear Sir (or Madam), I am directed by the Childrens Overseas Reception Scheme... Its nothing, a dull form letter but... wait! Someone has written in my name your preliminary application has been considered by the Board and they have decided that KENNETH J. CANADA. CANADA.

What are you doing? cries my stepmum, seizing the letter from my hands. That is not addressed to you. Charles! Charles! This cheeky son of yours wants a good clout about the ears! That letter is about me ! I say. Youre sending me away! I glare up at my father who appears in the doorway. My stepmum got her wish to get rid of me. Ken, let me explain, says my dad.

This letter could save your life. The Reasons Why They sit me down. I shrug their hands off my shoulders and stare at the floor, heart slamming, heat rising. They talk and talk, voices swirling in the air rising and falling, overlapping, interrupting, weaving a net, a trap, but Im not going to fall for it. I try to block them out. I concentrate on slowing the storm in my head.

Theyre sending me away! But hang on, whats that about the Germans? The Germans are coming, says Dad. France surrendered this summer and the Nazis are gunning for England next. Hundreds of thousands of parents applied to have their kids sent out of harms way. Youre lucky to have been selected, says Mum. I have a sister in Edmonton, Canada. You can live with her.

With your father out of work, money is tight. We can rent out your room to help pay for rations. Just thinksailing on a ship! says Dad. It will be an adventure! Youll make your way in the world. Get your head out of those books.... I snort. I snort.

Most parents would be chuffed to have a kid who loves to read. I read them because they take me away... far from the way Im living. My three-year-old sister toddles over and rests her head on my knees. I run my hand over her curls. What about Margaret? Shouldnt she go, too? Shes too young, says Mum.

Only ages five through fifteen are allowed. At thirteen Ill be one of the oldest. No adults? I ask. Parents cant go, says my dad, but youll have escorts a whole staff of doctors, nurses, teachers, priests who are volunteering. Yes, son, youre one of the lucky ones. You leave in September.

You mustnt tell your friends, says Dad. Loose lips sink ships, you know. And there will be a new overcoat for you, says Mum as if that clinches the deal. I squint up at her and think, Im as good as gone. I tear out of the house. Escape I dash down the streets, down the railway line, across the tracks, over a fence.

There in the wall, behind the loose brick, I snatch my stash of penny cannon fireworks. I stick some in a tree, strike a match to the fuse, and back away. I watch as the wick sputters, smokes, sparks. BLAM! It makes quite a hole. The charcoal-scented smoke wafts away and my fury with it. The smoke distracts me as it does angry bees.

Lets face it. My stepmum has never liked me. She calls me a terror, a little so-and-so. I wish my own mum were alive. The doctors told her she wasnt supposed to have children, but she didnt listen. She died soon after I was born.

Its all my fault. But why did my dad have to marry my nanny? Well, I wouldnt have Margaret otherwise.... Sure, shes a bother sometimes, but she makes me laugh. I think about my stepmum, the ship, and this evacuation plan. I feel like a hand-me-down my stepmum doesnt want, so shell donate me to a good cause. Forget it.

Im not going. She wont get rid of me that easily. I climb over another fence, hoist myself up a tree, and grab an apple to eat. She thinks Im a terror? Just because I like to scrump a few apples? My dad just says Im full of beans. I cant get away with much or I get a clout round the ear hole or the cane at school. Now they want to send me away across the ocean.

Well, Im not going. The New World Thats what they call it. Wonder what its like? Everything I own is old, tired, secondhand. Well, I got a new mum, but Im her secondhand kid. She makes me feel worn, torn, worthless. A New World sounds wide open, a chance to start my miserable life over again.

A black ant makes his way along the gnarled branch high off the ground. Hes brave, that one. I chew on my apple. How can it taste sour and sweet at the same time? Maybe Dads right. It will be an adventure... twould be folly to miss this chance. twould be folly to miss this chance.

They say Im one of the lucky ones. Maybe I am. A Sea Change A dog starts barking. A man yells, Hey! You again? Get down out of that tree. Clear off or Ill have your hide! I pluck another apple, jump down, and run for the fence, the dog at my heels. Up and over, I make my getaway.

All the way home I think of narrow escapes and high adventure. Okay, Ill show them! Ill go and grow up like the chaps in my books like Wart and Robin Hood. Ill go to sea like Jim Hawkins or Robinson Crusoe. How long will I be gone? Months? Years? Will I ever come back? Liver Again Oh, youre home now, are you? says my stepmum, as I walk in the door. You get a little hungry and all is forgiven. Leave him be, Nora, says my dad.

Hes had a lot to think about. Come on, son, lets sit down to eat. Mum places a plate of roly-poly on the table. Ive watched her make it before a bit of chopped liver rolled up in a pastry of flour, oatmeal, and suet. Disgusting. I grab a potato and say, Im not hungry.