Fortune's Magic Farm Suzanne Selfors (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📖

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.

The 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 snickering.

The girls started down the muddy road. Isabelle’s feet ached worse than ever. “We’ve got to hurry,” she said to Gwen. “My grandma needs her dinner.”

“I still can’t believe you actually talked to Mr. Supreme.”

“I had to. Please, can’t you walk faster?” Isabelle asked.

Gwen stopped. “I’m too tired. My legs are killing me. You go on.” She gave Isabelle a weak hug. “See ya in the morning.”

“See ya.”

Isabelle took off at a full run. She was the first of Mama Lu’s tenants to arrive home. She didn’t have to slam her body against the stubborn front door because it stood wide open—which was highly unusual. Rain fell into the entryway. The kitchen sat quiet. No cabbage soup bubbled. No one hollered, “Did ya check fer slugs?”

Something is wrong.

A series of thumps and bumps sounded above.

Isabelle took the stairs, racing up one flight, then the next. She didn’t even slow down for the super steep third flight. Her bedroom door also stood wide open. Shredded clumps of moss lay in the hallway. Something flew out of the bedroom and landed with a splat against the wall.

“SLUUUUUG!”

Isabelle plugged her ears as the screech repeated.

“SLUUUUUG!”

Mama Lu stomped out of the room on the fourth floor and stood, blocking the entry. Her fuzzy bathrobe hung open; her striped long johns clung to ripples of cheese-fed fat. Her face was all scrunched up like a wadded towel. In one hand she held the slug garden, in the other her canister of salt. “SLUUUUUG!” she wailed as she poured salt over the garden. The poor creatures had no chance of escape.

“No!” Isabelle cried.

“YOU!” Mama Lu tossed the garden aside, then stomped back into the bedroom. Isabelle knelt beside the cracker box, hoping to find survivors, but Mama Lu reappeared in the doorway with the potato bug palace.

“Please don’t hurt them,” Isabelle begged.

Mama Lu scrunched her face even tighter. It turned bright red. “Ya did this. Ya brought these vermin into my house. Who do ya think ya are? This is my home.” She overturned the milk carton. The bugs fell onto the floor and immediately curled into balls. Mama Lu raised her slipper.

“Oh no. Please, no.”

Mama Lu stomped them flat. “Vermin. Nasty vermin.”

Isabelle trembled from head to foot. She wanted to fling herself at Mama Lu. She wanted to push the horrid woman down the stairs. But she and her grandmother had nowhere else to go.

“Ya want these bugs to crawl into my ear while I sleep? Ya want me to slip on slug slime?”

YES! Isabelle wanted to scream. She grabbed a twig, onto which a few bugs clung. “Please stop. I’ll put them back outside. Just stop hurting them.”

“And what about them plants? What do ya think likes to live on plants? Slugs and bugs, that’s what. If God had intended plants to be inside, He wouldn’t have put them outside. Yer in big trouble.” She grabbed the twig and stomped it flat.

Poor little bugs.

Grandma Maxine would be worried, what with all the hollering and stomping. Isabelle tried to squeeze past her evil landlady but Mama Lu grabbed her by the hood. “I said, yer in big trouble.”

“Let me go.” Isabelle squirmed but the landlady’s grip held fast.

Boris and Bert appeared at the top of the stairs, with the Wormbottoms and Limewigs right behind. “Is something wrong?” Boris asked timidly.

“She’s what’s wrong,” Mama Lu said. “Always has been something wrong with this girl.”

“Let me go,” Isabelle cried, flailing and swinging her arms. “I want to see my grandma.”

“Ain’t no use seeing her.” Mama Lu let go of the hood. “ ’Cause she’s dead. Ya hear me? Dead.”

Every once in a while time decides to stand still. And that is what it did as Isabelle took in those dreadful words. Her