Senior, built this factory and gave them jobs despite their feeble constitutionsand below-average intellects.” The sleeves of his coat crunched as he folded his arms. “So, little girl, when I tell you that you must work extra hours, I expect gratitude. Of course, you are always free to look elsewhere for work. Perhaps everyone would like to look elsewhere for work?” He shared a chuckle with his assistants, because, after all, there was no place else to work in Runny Cove.
“We will work,” the workers called out.
Tears floated at the edges of Isabelle’s eyes. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for the extra hours.” She stepped back into line. Gwen reached out and squeezed her hand.
“Now that that bit of unpleasantry has passed, I’m pleased to announce that the new colorful dyes have already arrived,” Mr. Supreme said. “I’m going to make a fortune on these new umbrellas, so get to work, everyone.”
The assistants collected the colorful umbrellas as the workers shuffled off to their stations. Isabelle waved a sad good-bye to Leonard and Gwen and headed to the labeling room on the main floor. Her tears soon cleared but the seed continued to drive her mad. As soon as she got to her station, she reached into her sock and pulled it out. It bounced inside her cupped hand like a sand flea. Where could she put it?
The conveyor belt clunked and began its slow roll. A box appeared, winding toward Isabelle’s station. She needed both hands to stick the labels. Each label read: MAGNIFICENTLY SUPREME UMBRELLAS—SUPREME RAIN COVERS FOR THOSE WITH SUPREME TASTE.
The box rolled closer. Isabelle didn’t want to lose the strange seed. It seemed as if her sock would be the safest place. She’d simply have to endure the tickling. She was about to tuck it in when she noticed a little white root sticking out one end. It had sprouted. But that was not all.
It was humming happily between her warm palms.
Once again, an eerie sensation tickled Isabelle’s neck. She knew, even before she turned to make certain, that the hooded stranger was peering at her through the factory window.
T he factory horn blew at four hours past the usual quitting time. The extra work had cut into the lunch break so there had been no opportunity for Isabelle to talk to her friends. But while the day had moved as slowly as an overfed slug, Isabelle’s thoughts had bounced along with the seed’s rhythm.
Do not forget that Isabelle’s head was already full of unanswered questions like
Where did I come from?
and
Why am I different?
Now a mess of new questions shoved their way in, screaming,
Answer me! Answer me!
Questions like,
Why did the stranger disappear again? Why was he staring at me? Why did that sea monster have such an odd nose? Was Grandma Maxine really feeling better? Why would a bird drop an apple onto someone’s head? Do most apple seeds jump and hum?
Just to mention a few.
It was getting crowded in Isabelle’s head.
Workers zipped up their slickers, tied their hoods, and headed into the gloomy night. Flickering village lights guided them home. “Hey, Isabelle,” Leonard called out, waving. But his parents grabbed his arms.
“Stay away from her,” his dad said. “She almost got everyone fired.” They pulled him into the crowd.
Gwen took Isabelle’s hand. “Don’t worry. They won’t be mad at you tomorrow. Remember the shipping incident. They forgave you after a few days.”
The “shipping incident” had taken place the prior year,long before Grandma Maxine had become ill. The friends had argued over who should go but in the end Leonard was chosen because he was shorter than Gwen and Isabelle, and thus, could better fit into a box. After shutting and taping the box, Isabelle had written TO NOWHERE on the shipping label. Once he had arrived, Leonard was supposed to take a good look around and then ship himself back.
But the box never made it past Mr. Supreme’s assistants on account of the air holes and Leonard’s
“We will work,” the workers called out.
Tears floated at the edges of Isabelle’s eyes. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for the extra hours.” She stepped back into line. Gwen reached out and squeezed her hand.
“Now that that bit of unpleasantry has passed, I’m pleased to announce that the new colorful dyes have already arrived,” Mr. Supreme said. “I’m going to make a fortune on these new umbrellas, so get to work, everyone.”
The assistants collected the colorful umbrellas as the workers shuffled off to their stations. Isabelle waved a sad good-bye to Leonard and Gwen and headed to the labeling room on the main floor. Her tears soon cleared but the seed continued to drive her mad. As soon as she got to her station, she reached into her sock and pulled it out. It bounced inside her cupped hand like a sand flea. Where could she put it?
The conveyor belt clunked and began its slow roll. A box appeared, winding toward Isabelle’s station. She needed both hands to stick the labels. Each label read: MAGNIFICENTLY SUPREME UMBRELLAS—SUPREME RAIN COVERS FOR THOSE WITH SUPREME TASTE.
The box rolled closer. Isabelle didn’t want to lose the strange seed. It seemed as if her sock would be the safest place. She’d simply have to endure the tickling. She was about to tuck it in when she noticed a little white root sticking out one end. It had sprouted. But that was not all.
It was humming happily between her warm palms.
Once again, an eerie sensation tickled Isabelle’s neck. She knew, even before she turned to make certain, that the hooded stranger was peering at her through the factory window.
T he factory horn blew at four hours past the usual quitting time. The extra work had cut into the lunch break so there had been no opportunity for Isabelle to talk to her friends. But while the day had moved as slowly as an overfed slug, Isabelle’s thoughts had bounced along with the seed’s rhythm.
Do not forget that Isabelle’s head was already full of unanswered questions like
Where did I come from?
and
Why am I different?
Now a mess of new questions shoved their way in, screaming,
Answer me! Answer me!
Questions like,
Why did the stranger disappear again? Why was he staring at me? Why did that sea monster have such an odd nose? Was Grandma Maxine really feeling better? Why would a bird drop an apple onto someone’s head? Do most apple seeds jump and hum?
Just to mention a few.
It was getting crowded in Isabelle’s head.
Workers zipped up their slickers, tied their hoods, and headed into the gloomy night. Flickering village lights guided them home. “Hey, Isabelle,” Leonard called out, waving. But his parents grabbed his arms.
“Stay away from her,” his dad said. “She almost got everyone fired.” They pulled him into the crowd.
Gwen took Isabelle’s hand. “Don’t worry. They won’t be mad at you tomorrow. Remember the shipping incident. They forgave you after a few days.”
The “shipping incident” had taken place the prior year,long before Grandma Maxine had become ill. The friends had argued over who should go but in the end Leonard was chosen because he was shorter than Gwen and Isabelle, and thus, could better fit into a box. After shutting and taping the box, Isabelle had written TO NOWHERE on the shipping label. Once he had arrived, Leonard was supposed to take a good look around and then ship himself back.
But the box never made it past Mr. Supreme’s assistants on account of the air holes and Leonard’s
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