Jennifer L. Holm - Turtle in Paradise

ALSO BY JENNIFER L. HOLM
The Babymouse series (with Matthew Holm)
Boston Jane: An Adventure
Boston Jane: Wilderness Days
Boston Jane: The Claim
The Creek
Middle School Is Worse Than Meatloaf
Our Only May Amelia
Penny from Heaven
The Stink Files series (with Jonathan Hamel)

For Lindsey and Shana
the original Diaper Gang

conch
Pronunciation: knk, knch
Function: noun
1: any of various large spiral-shelled marine
gastropod mollusks (as of the genus Strombus)
2: often capitalized: a native or resident of the
Florida Keys

Merriam-Websters Collegiate
Dictionary, 11th edition

June 1935

Everyone thinks children are sweet as Necco Wafers, but Ive lived long enough to know the truth: kids are rotten. The only difference between grown-ups and kids is that grown-ups go to jail for murder. Kids get away with it.

I stare out the window as Mr. Edgits Ford Model A rumbles along the road, kicking up clouds of dust. Its so hot that the backs of my legs feel like melted gum, only stickier. Weve been driving for days now; it feels like eternity.

In front of us is a rusty pickup truck with a gang of dirty-looking kids in the back sandwiched between furniturean iron bed, a rocking chair, battered potsall tied up with little bits of fraying rope like a spiderweb. A girl my age is holding a baby thats got a pair of ladies bloomers tied on its head to keep the sun out of its eyes. The boy sitting next to her has a gap between his two front teeth. Not that this stops him from blowing spitballs at us through a straw. Weve been stuck behind this truck for the last few miles, and our windshield is covered with wadded bits of wet newspaper.

A spitball smacks the window and Mr. Edgit hammers the horn with the palm of his hand. The no-good boy just laughs and sticks out his tongue.

There oughta be a law. No wonder this countrys going to the dogs, Mr. Edgit grumbles.

Mr. Edgit (You can call me Lyle) has a lot of opinions. He says folks in the Dust Bowl wouldnt be having so much trouble if theyd just move near some water. He says he doesnt think President Roosevelt will get us out of this Depression and that if you give someone money for not working why would they ever bother to get a job? But mostly Mr. Edgit talks about a new hair serum hes selling thats going to make him rich. Its called Hair Today, and hes a believer. Hes used the product himself.

Can you see the new hair, Turtle? he asks, pointing at his shiny bald head.

I dont see anything. It must grow invisible hair.

Maybe Archie should start selling hair serum. If his pal Mr. Edgits anything to go by, most men would rather have hair than be smart. Archies a traveling salesman. Hes sold everythingbrushes, gadgets, Bibles, you name it. Right now hes peddling encyclopedias.

I could sell a trap to a mouse, Archie likes to say, and its the truth. Housewives cant resist him. I know Mama couldnt.

It was last May, one day after my tenth birthday, when I opened the door of Mrs. Grants house and saw Archie standing there. He had dark brown eyes and thick black hair brushed back with lemon pomade.

Well, hello there, Archie said to me, tipping his Panama hat. Is the lady of the house at home?

Which lady? I asked. The ugly one or the pretty one?

He laughed. Why, aint you a sweet little thing.

Im not sweet, I said. I slugged Ronald Caruthers when he tried to throw my cat in the well, and Id do it again.

Archie roared with laughter. Ill bet you would! Whats your name, princess?

Turtle, I said.

Turtle, huh? he mused, stroking his chin. I can see why. Got a little snap to you, dont ya?

Whos that youre talking to, Turtle? my mother called, coming to the door.

Archie smiled at Mama. You must be the pretty lady.

Mama put her hand over her heart. Otherwise it would have leaped right out of her chest. She fell so hard for Archie she left a dent in the floor.

Mamas always falling in love, and the fellas she picks are like dandelions. One day theyre there, bright as sunshinecharming Mama, buying me presentsand the next theyre gone, scattered to the wind, leaving weeds everywhere and Mama crying.

But Mama says Archies different, and Im starting to think she may be right. He keeps his promises, and he hasnt disappeared yet. Even Smokey likes him, which is saying something, considering she bit the last fella Mama dated. Also, hes got big dreams, which is more than I can say for most of them.

Mark my words, princess, Archie told me. Well be living on Easy Street someday.

That sounds swell to me, but even I know theres gonna be a few bumps on the way to Easy Street, and Im sitting right next to one of them.

Youre like Little Orphan Annie and her dog, Mr. Edgit says, eyeing Smokey, whos curled up in my lap. You know, Annies dog. Whats its name?

How can someone have opinions on baldness and not know the name of Annies dog? Shes the most famous orphan on the radio and in the funny pages.

You know, the dog thats always with her

I look out the window.

The one thats always barking

Sandy, I say.

Right, Sandy, he says with a pleased look. What does Sandy say, again?

Arf, I say.

Thats good! Sandy says arf! Mr. Edgit chortles. Does your cat say meow?

I roll my eyes.

What happened to your cat, anyhow? he asks with a sidelong glance at Smokey. She got the mange?

She got burned, I say, smoothing my hand over Smokeys ragged patches of fur.

That why you call her Smokey?

No, I say. The name came first.

I still dont understand why you couldnt stay with that old dame, Mr. Edgit says. Place was a mansion. Looked like something Shirley Temple would live in.

Shirley Temple is this kid actress everyones calling Americas Little Darling. She has dimpled cheeks and ringlet curls and is always breaking into song or doing a dance number at the drop of a hat. Everyone thinks shes the cutest thing ever.

I cant stand her.

Real kids arent anything like Shirley Temple and I should know. Because Mamas the housekeeper, we get free room and board. Which wouldnt be so bad, except the rest of the house usually comes with kids. And theyre never nice to the housekeepers daughter.

There was twelve-year-old Sylvia Decker, who gave me her old doll and then told her mother that I stole it from her. We didnt last very long there. And then there was Josephine Stark, who told all the kids at school that it was my job to clean the toilet. No one would play with me after that.

The worst, though, were the Curley boysMelvin and Marvin. They thought it would be funny to light poor Smokeys tail on fire and watch her run around. Mr. Curley didnt believe me when I told him what his boys did, and he fired Mama on the spot. Like I said, kids are rotten.

Mamas promised me that someday were going to live in our own home. Weve got it all picked out, too. Its a Sears mail-order house, from a kit. The Bellewood, Model #3304. This is what the brochure says:

The Bellewood is another happy combination of a well-laid-out floor plan with a modern attractive exterior. The design is an adaptation of a small English cottage