Беверли Клири - Dear Mr. Henshaw / Дорогой мистер Хеншоу. 7-8 классы

The place was shady and quiet, almost like church. At first I saw only three or four monarchs flying around. Then the sun came out from behind a cloud. The butterflies on the trees slowly opened their orange and black wings, thousands of them sitting on one tree. Then they began to fly off through the trees in the sunshine. Those clouds of butterflies were so beautiful that I felt good again and just stood there watching.

I felt so good that I ran all the way home, and while I was running I had an idea for my story.

I also noticed that some of the shops and the gas station had metal boxes that said “Alarm System.” I wonder what is in those boxes.

Today on the way home from school I asked a man who works in the gas station, “Hey, mister, what’s in that box that says ‘Alarm System’ on the side of the station?”

“Batteries,” he told me. “Batteries and a bell.”

Batteries are something to think about.

I started another story which I hope will be printed in the Young Writers’ Yearbook. I think I will call it The Giant Wax Man . All the boys in my class are writing strange stories about monsters and creatures from space. Girls are writing poems or stories about horses.

In the middle of working on my story I had a bright idea. If I take my lunch in a black lunchbox and get some batteries, maybe I will really make a burglar alarm.

Today I got a letter from Dad. I thought it was a letter, but when I opened it, I found a twenty-dollar bill and a paper napkin. On the napkin he wrote, “Sorry about Bandit. Here’s $20. Go buy yourself an ice cream. Dad.”

I was so mad I couldn’t say anything. Mom read the napkin and said, “Your father doesn’t really mean you should buy an ice cream.”

“Then why did he write it?” I asked.

“He is just trying to say that he is really sorry about Bandit. He’s not very good at expressing feelings.” Mom looked sad and said, “Some men aren’t, you know.”

“What should I do with the twenty dollars?” I asked.

“Keep it,” said Mom. “It’s yours, and it will be useful in some way.”

When I asked if I had to write and thank Dad, Mom looked at me and said, “That’s for you to decide.”

Tonight I worked hard on my story for Young Writers about the giant wax man and decided to save the twenty dollars to buy a typewriter. When I am a real author I will need a typewriter.

Dear Mr. Henshaw,

I haven’t written to you for a long time, because I know you are busy, but I need help with the story that I am trying to write for the Young Writers’ Yearbook. I started, but I don’t know how to finish it.

My story is about a giant man who drives a big truck, like the one my Dad drives. The man is made of wax, and every time he crosses the desert, he melts a little. He makes so many trips and melts so much he finally can’t drive the truck anymore. That is all that I have now. What should I do next?

The boys in my class who are writing about monsters kill all the bad guys on the last page. This ending doesn’t seem right to me. I don’t know why.

Please help.

P.S. Before I started writing the story, I wrote in my diary almost every day.

Dear Mr. Henshaw,

Thank you for answering my letter. I was surprised that you had trouble writing stories when you were my age. I think you are right. Maybe I am not ready to write a story. I understand what you mean. A character in a story should solve a problem or change in some way. I can see that a wax man who melts won’t be there to solve anything and melting isn’t the change you mean. I think somebody could make candles out of him on the last page. That would change him of course, but that is not the ending I want.

I asked Miss Martinez if I had to write a story for Young Writers, and she said I could write a poem or a description.

P.S. I bought a copy of Ways to Amuse a Dog at a sale. I hope you don’t mind.

I am not writing my diary because of working on my story and writing to Mr. Henshaw (really, not just pretend). I also bought a new notebook because I had finished the first one.

That same day I bought a used black lunchbox in the thrift shop down the street and started bringing my lunch in it. The kids were surprised, but nobody made fun of me, because a black lunchbox isn’t the same as one of those square boxes covered with colorful stickers that younger children have. Some boys asked if the box was my Dad’s. I just smiled and said, “Where do you think I got it?” The next day my salami was gone, but I expected that. I’ll get that thief. I’ll make him really sorry that he ate all the best things in my lunch.

Next I went to the library for books on batteries. I got some easy books on electricity, really easy. I never thought about batteries before. All I know is that when you want to use a flashlight, the battery is usually dead.

I finally stopped writing my story about the giant wax man, which was really stupid. I wanted to write a poem about butterflies for Young Writers because a poem can be short, but it is hard to think about butterflies and burglar alarms at the same time, so I studied electricity books instead. The books didn’t say how to make an alarm in a lunchbox, but I learned a lot about batteries, switches and wires, so I think I can do it myself.

Back to the poem tonight. The only rhyme I can think of for “butterfly” is “flutter by.” I can think of rhymes like “trees” and “breeze” which are very boring, and then I think of “wheeze” and “sneeze.” A poem about butterflies wheezing and sneezing seems silly, and anyway some girls are already writing poems about monarch butterflies that flutter by.

Sometimes I start a letter to Dad to thank him for the twenty dollars, but I can’t finish it. I don’t know why.

Today I took my lunchbox and Dad’s twenty dollars to the hardware store and looked around. I found a switch, a little battery and a doorbell. While I was looking around for the wire, a man asked if he could help me. He was a nice old gentleman who said, “What are you planning to make, son?” Son . He called me son, and my Dad calls me kid. I didn’t want to tell the man, but when he looked at the things I was holding, he smiled and said, “Trouble with your lunch, right?” I nodded and said, “I’m trying to make a burglar alarm.”

He said, “That’s what I guessed. I had workmen in here with the same problem.”

He said that I needed another battery and gave me some tips. After I paid for the things and was leaving, he said, “Good luck, son.”

I ran home with all the things I bought. First I made a sign on my door that said:

KEEP OUT

MOM

THAT MEANS YOU

Then I went to work to connect one wire from the battery to the switch and another to the doorbell. It took some time to do it right. Then I fixed the battery and the switch in one corner of the lunchbox and the doorbell in another. I closed the box just enough so I could put my hand inside and push the button on the switch. Then I took my hand out and closed the box.