Matylda, Bright and Tender by Holly M. McGhee Chapter Sampler

Mat ylda,
Bright &
Tender
HOLLY M. M C GHEE
I let time go lightly when Im here with you . . .
Harry Chapin, Let Time Go Lightly
Daughter, believe me, when you tire on the long

thrash to your island, lie up, and survive.
Philip Booth, First Lesson
Love bears all things, believes all things,

hopes all things, endures all things.
1 Corinthians 13:7
Chapter One
If my life were one big calendar and I had to

mark my favorite day, Id put all the shiny gold push-
pins I could fi nd on an October morning three years
ago. I was standing on the corner with my friend
Guy Hose and everyone else, waiting for the school
bus. We were six years old. It was cold, the air chill-
ier than usual for a fall day. I was rubbing my arms
to stay warm.
Wheres your jacket? Guy asked. I told him
that I left it at home but I was fi ne. We were going
to school, a short trip, not a big deal. But he took off,
not worrying about the bus coming, not worrying
about what would happen if he missed it. I watched
him go, plaid flannel pants running through three
backyards a knight, fearless, jumping over hoses
and fences and anything else, no stopping him. He
ran right into my house, knowing my jacket hung
on a hook in the laundry room. Then he was back,
out of breath, with cold-air cheeks, just as the bus
pulled up.
I dont think I would have done that. Dont think
I would have risked missing the bus to get a jacket
for a friend. But Guy, he wasnt worried all that
mattered was me that morning. Thats when I knew
I loved him not in a fairy-tale way with a princess
and prince or anything like that. I just loved him,
the way you love the people closest to you.
2
Chapter Two
The moment I met Guy is stuck in my mind

like rubber cement. I was in kindergarten, and each
day at 2 p.m., Mrs. Wolf said, Its time for free play!
As soon as she said it, almost everybody rushed to
the costume corner. It was so crowded and noisy
there, with jumpsuits and dresses and costumes
going on and off, zippers going up and down, hang-
ers falling off the rack, masks and ties and jewelry
all over the place. There were even tap shoes and
goggles. It was too busy for me.
I liked the Potato Heads, and they were in a
different corner of the room. There were boxes
and boxes of them, every size and part you could
imagine. It was quiet there, and I had my own Potato
Head family. I dressed them the same each day:
Mama got the green sneakers and the purple hat,
Papa got the yellow shoes and mustache, and Baby
Tater only got a bow tie, cause he couldnt walk yet.
I usually played family with them.
But when Guy arrived, everything changed. Mrs.
Wolf introduced him to the class and explained to
him that he could do whatever he wanted for free
play. He had on baseball pants and a red shirt, and I
watched as he scanned the room, seeing everybody
in the costume corner and me there, alone with the
Taters. Next thing I knew, he was by my side, sitting
down with Mama and Papa and Baby and me.
Guy wasnt shy. Would you like to see a trick?
he asked.
Sure, I said.
Okay. He started digging through the boxes of
potato pieces, choosing the ones he wanted quite
a few potatoes and lots and lots of ears, some other
stuff too.
Why are you taking all the ears? I said, won-
dering if he knew how to play.
Youll see! he said.
4
He took an ear and stuck it through the earhole
of a big potato head the opposite way, so the ear was
on the inside and the peg was on the outside. He did
it again on the other side. The potato looked funny,
with pegs sticking out both sides of its head.
What are you doing? I said. He didnt answer;
he just stuck a new potato on each peg so there were
three lined up all together.
Awesome, I said. Guy added more, and then
there were six potatoes in a row. He held it up.
You know what? I said.
What?
We could put a potato where the hat is supposed
to go! And the feet!
Lets do it, he said.
We put more ears inside each potato so the pegs
were sticking out the top and bottom, too. Then we
stuck on more potatoes.
Its a never-ending potato! Guy said. We were
both laughing.
What kind of eyes should we use?
Creepy ones, said Guy. I took some eyes out of
the boxes.
Lets use the kind with all the veins, I said.
5
Yeah! And we added eyes to each of the pota-
toes, six across and four high. We gave them feet
too, all different shoes and sneakers, so the never-
ending potato could stand on whichever side it felt
like.
From then on, I shared my corner with Guy we
could hardly wait till 2 p.m. each day. We couldnt
wait to build another never-ending potato.
6
Chapter Three
We had a school-wide picnic at the end of first

grade. Id known Guy almost two years already, and
we were good friends, but not together-all-the-time
friends. My dad volunteered to bring ice pops, 125
cherry ice pops, and he showed up when a bunch of
us were playing kickball. I saw him coming from the
car I couldnt mistake my dad, tall and thin, with a
Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and a giant mound of
hair.
Ice pops! my dad yelled, and everybody started
running. Line up, ladies and gentlemen one pop
each! But Guy didnt come. He was kneeling, out in
right field.
Guy, I said, running back toward him, not want-
ing him to miss the pops. My dad has ice pops!
He didnt get up. Guy, I said, getting closer. My
dad
Look, he whispered, turning toward me. Look
what I have. There was a ladybug on his fi ngertip,
with delicate black dots speckled on a coat of red,
her teeny wings fluttering as she walked around his
fi nger. I knelt down beside him and put my fi nger
next to his. The ladybug took fl ight and landed on
my hand. I held my breath as she explored.
Do you believe she brings good luck? I said
softly.
I dont just believe it, whispered Guy. I
know it.
How? I said.
Because of my dad, said Guy. He was out in
the garage a few years ago, trying to make kindling
for our woodstove. The wood he used was damp,
and he was holding it in place with one hand while
bringing the ax down to sliver it off with the other.
Me and my mom were in the living room when we
heard him yell, ALBERTA, WERE GOING TO THE
EMERGENCY ROOM.
8
Wed never heard his voice like that, and he usu-
ally called her Bertie; we knew it was serious. His
thumb was nearly severed from his hand, and Mom
wrapped it in rags and T-shirts and towels to stop the
bleeding. We got him in the car, and she reclined his
seat all the way back, and then she rested his arm,
wound up in all that cloth, on the open window. Just
keep it higher than your heart if you can, Jacques,
she said, making sure it would stay. Thatll stop the
bleeding.
She turned to come back to the drivers side,
but Dad stopped her. Bertie, he said, Itll be okay.
Look . . . And he drifted off. Mom and I saw what
he was talking about; a ladybug had landed on his
wrapped-up hand, right on the end where his thumb
was supposed to be.
Did you see that, Guy? my mom said. Itll be
all right. A ladybug landing brings luck.
My father didnt lose his thumb. They sewed it
back on and reconnected most of the nerves; they
couldnt get them all, but it works pretty well. The
ladybug brought us luck, staying on his hand all the
way to the hospital, even with the open window.
My dad came over then, a cherry pop in each
9
hand. Lucky you, he said. I have two pops left. Me
and Guy looked at each other with big eyes, hardly
believing my dads words.
Guy, I said, when my dad headed back. Are
you thinking what Im thinking?
The ladybug strikes again!
Wow, I said. I guess they can bring luck for
everything the big things and the little things.
Your dads thumb and our ice pops, too.
Yeah, said Guy. I never thought of it that way.
From then on, me and Guy looked out for lady-
bugs, at recess or whenever we got to eat lunch out-
side. Sometimes they showed up on a windowsill,
a swing set, or even on somebodys hair we were
always on the watch, Sussy and Guy of the Ladybug
Landing.
10
Chapter Four
My dad called us spaghetti and meatballs,

cause we could usually be found together, and one
Friday after school, in the spring of fourth grade, we
sat down to have our regular snack: a not-so-little
pile of Pringles, the only junk food my mom allowed
(she liked the way they stacked), and a glass of gin-
ger ale. She said it was good for your stomach.
Mom was also the reason we were at the dining
table in the fi rst place. She was a why-notter, from
why not believe in God to why not eat in the dining
room under a beautiful chandelier. She had a good
point, and the chandelier was pretty, so we ate our
snacks and played Monopoly there too.
Guy and I laid out the board, tucking in our
money, lowest to highest. Like always, I put my five-
hundred-dollar bill all the way under, saving it for
when I really needed it, while Guy left his out, front
and center, ready to be spent. Ill see if my dad
wants in, I said.
Dad was in the basement at his laptop, working
on his new self-help book, this one about couples
who dont compromise. I had a hunch it was inspired
by him and my mom, because they both have strong
opinions about most everything, including my
name. Since they couldnt agree on what to call me
when I was born, my dad picked one name and my
mom picked another. My fi rst, Susquehanna, came
from the Susquehanna Trading Company, based in
New York City, where my dad used to work. Thats
where he built our familys nest egg the money
that gave him the cushion to try writing books. It
stands for freedom, he said.
My mom chose my middle name, Indiana, and it
wasnt about the prairie state. She was a big fan of
Indiana Jones from Raiders of the Lost Ark and all
the ones after. For strength, she said.
12
The funny part is that they both ended up call-
ing me Sussy.
Gonna play, Dad? I asked. He rolled back in his
chair, running his hand through his hair.
Hmm, he said. Should I or shouldnt I?
Weve got chips, I said. Sour cream and onion.
Monopoly and Pringles. A doubleheader. Im
in. He followed me up the stairs.
Guy went with the iron, I took the car, and my
dad got the wheelbarrow. You know what Guys
mom says, right? I asked my dad.
What?
Everything you need to know about life can be
learned from Monopoly.
Is that so?
Yup, it is, Mr. Reed, said Guy. At least accord-
ing to her. Addition, subtraction, buying, selling,
and strategizing.
But what about luck? my dad said. Do you
learn that?
Lucks another story, said Guy. You just get it,
sometimes good, sometimes bad. Unless theres a
ladybug, of course then its always good. I thought
13
about Guys bad luck in the last game wed played.
He ran out of money, mortgaged everything, and
then landed on my brand-new hotel on Pennsylva-
nia Avenue. End of story. Except that I didnt enjoy
winning very much cause I had to watch him lose.
As usual, Guy bought everything he could, and I
was more strategic, buying properties with the high-
est rents. We both had monopolies pretty fast, but
not my dad, because he only ever bought reds and
purples. Why are you so stuck on those colors? I
asked him.
Research, he said. Trying to see if you can
win by not compromising. His logic was crazy, but
so was he, and we didnt mind. Not surprisingly, he
went bankrupt pretty fast, and then all that mat-
tered was the dice. I landed on Guys properties
and he landed on mine, and it seemed like the game
could go on forever.
Im bored, I said.
Boredom, my dad replied. Something else
Monopoly teaches you. Gotta hand it to your mom,
Guy. Everything you need to know about life can be
learned right here. He tapped the board. Between the
two of us, I bet weve got the makings of another book.
14
I thought about Mrs. Hose and how many times
Id heard her say that about Monopoly. In some
ways it was true; I did learn to strategize and count
money. I learned that you could pick up a card from
the middle of the board and go directly to jail and
then just as easily pick up a different card and get
out of jail free. And I learned that you could land on
a big red hotel on Boardwalk and watch your for-
tunes change in an instant. It was business and luck,
but that wasnt everything.
I know whats wrong, I fi nally said. Theres no
love in this game.
My dad made a frowny face. Banana peels, he
said. Youre right.
I laughed cause thats what Dad said whenever
there was something he hadnt thought of, like boom,
hed slipped on a banana peel.
Plenty of other places for love, my dad said.
Youve got us and youve got each other. Isnt that
enough?
Not really, I said. We dont have siblings or
anything.
My dad seemed concerned.
We need a pet, I said. Thats whats missing.
15
Are we ever going to get one? It was something Id
asked for so many times that Id pretty much given
up. But it was worth another try.
You know what your mom says, right?
Yes. Theres enough animals in the house
already, I said, quoting her. Not funny. Were just
hoping for something to love thats all our own,
Dad.
I know what Id choose, said Guy. I mean, if we
could get one.
Let me guess, said my dad. A leopard gecko.
Right, said Guy. He had wanted a leopard
gecko since our animal unit at the beginning of
third grade, and he had read everything there is to
know about them, but Mrs. Hose said they didnt
have room for a pet. It was one of the few things she
said absolutely no to.
What about a bird? I asked.
Oh, no, you dont, my dad said. I had one once.
First you stare at it in the cage and then, when you
let it out, it leaves droppings everywhere, mostly out
of reach.
So you cant clean it up but you know its there?
I asked.
16
You can clean it up, he said. But you need scaf-
folding to get to it.
Ew, I said. Guinea pig?
They dont do anything except squeak once in a
while, said Guy. We had one in preschool.
Wait a sec, said my dad. Who said you could
have a pet?
Can we? I said. Please?
Are you really ready to take care of it?
Were not babies.
I promise, said Guy. And I vote for the
gecko.
Im not sure about that, I said.
Listen, said Guy. Theyre good beginner
reptiles, and they dont smell. You keep them in a
tank; they dont just crawl around the house. Guy
was getting going now. If you want, you can just use
paper towels for substrate. Thats what you line the
bottom of the tank with. Guy ran his hand along the
table and looked up at Dad.
He was winning me over. I jumped in. I think it
could be good for us, Dad. We wouldnt have to walk
it or anything. We could keep it in my room.
Your mother would appreciate that.
17
Mr. Reed, well love it like crazy! said Guy. Itll
be something all our own.
It felt like the stars lined up for us right then,
cause my dad seemed to understand, and he ran his
hand through his hair again. Thats hard to resist,
he said to us both. I want you to have something of
your own, too. He sighed. Its part of growing up,
isnt it?
And not very long after that, the three of us were
in the Honda, backing out of the driveway.
18
Matylda, Bright and Tender
Holly M. McGhee
www.candlewick.com

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Mat ylda,

Daughter, believe me, when you tire on the long

Love bears all things, believes all things,

If my life were one big calendar and I had to

The moment I met Guy is stuck in my mind

We had a school-wide picnic at the end of first

My dad called us spaghetti and meatballs,

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