51
The music store looked pretty run-down. We waited in the car while my parents went to talk to the owner. It took a long time. Robin and I played cerealball with her T-ball cap and some sugarless bubble gum.
“You remember those purple jelly beans?” Robin asked.
“The magic ones?”
Robin nodded. “They were maybe not so magic.”
I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“They were from Kylie’s birthday party.” Robin pulled on her ponytail. “I just wanted you to think they were magic. But there’s no such thing. Of course.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Could be magic happens sometimes.”
“Really?” Robin asked.
“Really,” I said.
When my parents came out of the store, they were smiling. They shook a man’s hand, and he gave my dad a set of keys.
“Got the job,” my dad said. “It’s part-time, but with everything else, it should help. And we can stay in that apartment for a month, anyway. Hopefully by then we’ll have come up with yet another plan. We really want to keep you and Robin at the same school. We’re going to do our best, but there are no guarantees.”
“I know,” I said, and even though it didn’t solve all our problems, I felt a little better.
The garage apartment was tiny, with only one bedroom. There was no TV, and the carpeting was a weary beige.
Still. It had a roof and a door and a family who needed it.
52
The article I read about imaginary friends said they often appear during times of stress. It said that as kids mature, they tend to outgrow their pretend world.
But Crenshaw told me something else.
He said imaginary friends never leave. He said they were on call. Just waiting, in case they were needed.
I said that sounded like a lot of waiting around, and he said he didn’t mind. It was his job.
The first night in our new apartment, I slept on a chair in the living room. I woke up in the middle of the night. Everyone else was sleeping soundly.
As I headed to the bathroom to get a drink, I was surprised when I heard the water running. I knocked, and when no one answered, I opened the door a crack.
Bubbles floated and danced. Steam billowed. But through the mist I could make out Crenshaw in the shower, fashioning a bubble beard.
“Do you have any purple jelly beans?” he asked.
Before I could answer, I felt my dad’s hand on my shoulder. “Jackson? You okay?”
I turned and hugged him hard. “I love you,” I said. “And that’s a fact.”
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
I smiled, recalling the question I’d been meaning to ask. “Dad,” I said, “have you ever known anyone by the name of Finian?”
“Did you say Finian?” he asked with a faraway look in his eyes.
I closed the bathroom door, and as I did, I caught another glimpse of Crenshaw. He was standing on his head. His tail was covered with bubbles.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. Slowly.
Ten seconds seemed like the right amount of time for me to be sure he wasn’t going to leave.
When I opened my eyes, Crenshaw was still there.
There had to be a logical explanation.
There’s always a logical explanation.
Meantime, I was going to enjoy the magic while I could.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My heartfelt thanks to
• The Feiwel and Friends pantheon: Rich Deas, Liz Dresner, Nicole Moulaison, and Mary Van Akin for their patience and breathtaking talents; Liz Szabla for her TLC, remarkable insights, and gracious good humor; Angus Killick for his leadership and enthusiasm; and Jean Feiwel for just about everything;
• Elena Giovinazzo, agent extraordinaire, at Pippin Properties, Inc., for her guidance and friendship;
• Artist Erwin Madrid for bringing Crenshaw to life;
• The amazing students and staff of the Monarch School in San Diego, California, a unique campus for students affected by homelessness, for sharing their stories;
• My friends and family for pretending not to notice my long chats with an imaginary cat;
• Jake and Julia for tolerating the “don’t bug me while I’m writing unless you’re bleeding” mandate;
• and Michael, for asking to borrow that can opener so many years ago.
Thank you for reading this FEIWEL AND FRIENDS book.
The friends who made
Crenshaw
possible are:
JEAN FEIWEL, Publisher
LIZ SZABLA, Editor in Chief
RICH DEAS, Senior Creative Director
HOLLY WEST, Associate Editor
DAVE BARRETT, Executive Managing Editor
NICOLE LIEBOWITZ MOULAISON, Senior Production Manager
ANNA ROBERTO, Associate Editor
CHRISTINE BARCELLONA, Associate Editor
EMILY SETTLE, Administrative Assistant
ANNA POON, Editorial Assistant
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OUR BOOKS ARE FRIENDS FOR LIFE.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Katherine Applegate is the author of the bestselling Animorphs series, and the novels Home of the Brave and The One and Only Ivan, winner of the 2013 Newbery Medal. She lives with her husband, author Michael Grant, and their two children in Northern California. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Part One
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part Two
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Part Three
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 by Katherine Applegate
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An Imprint of Macmillan
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
mackids.com
All rights reserved.
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
Harvey. Mary Chase. Copyright © 1944 by Mary Chase. Copyright © renewed, 1971, by Mary Chase. Reprinted with permission.
Selection
s from A Hole Is To Dig by Ruth Krauss. Text copyright © 1952 by Ruth Krauss, copyright renewed © 1980 by Ruth Krauss. All rights reserved. Used by permission of The Wylie Agency LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
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First hardcover edition 2015
eBook edition September 2015
eISBN 9781250080226