Homecoming, 1

Informationen zum Autor Cynthia Voigt won the Newbery Medal for Dicey's Song, the Newbery Honor Award for A Solitary Blue, and the National Book Award Honor for Homecoming, all part of the beloved Tillerman Cycle. She is also the author of many other celebrated books for middle grade and teen readers, including Izzy, Willy-Nilly, and Jackaroo. She was awarded the Margaret A. Edwards Award in 1995 for her work in literature, and the Katahdin Award in 2004. She lives in Maine. Klappentext The iconic start to the timeless, Newbery-winning series from Cynthia Voigt is repackaged with a fresh new look."It's still true. That's the first thing James Tillerman says to his older sister, Dicey, every morning. It's still true that their mother has abandoned the four Tillermans in a mall parking lot somewhere in the middle of Connecticut. It's still true that they have to find their own way to Great-aunt Cilla's house in Bridgeport. It's still true that they need to spend as little as possible on food and seek shelter anywhere that is out of view of the authorities. It's still true that the only way they can hope to all stay together is to just keep moving forward.Deep down, Dicey hopes they can find someone to trust, someone who will take them in and love them. But she's afraid it's just too much to hope for....Homecoming CHAPTER 1 The woman put her sad moon-face in at the window of the car. You be good, she said. You hear me? You little ones, mind what Dicey tells you. You hear? Yes, Momma, they said. That's all right then. She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away, her stride made uneven by broken sandal thongs, thin elbows showing through holes in the oversized sweater, her jeans faded and baggy. When she had disappeared into the crowd of Saturday morning shoppers entering the side doors of the mall, the three younger children leaned forward onto the front seat. Dicey sat in front. She was thirteen and she read the maps. Why'd we stop? asked James. We're not there yet. We've got food. There's no reason to stop. James was ten and wanted everything to have a reason. Dicey? I dunno. You heard everything she said, same as I did. You tell me. All she said was, We gotta stop here. She didn't say why. She never says why, you know that. Are we out of gas? I didn't look. Dicey wanted some quiet for thinking. There was something odd about this whole trip. She couldn't put her finger on it, not yet. Why don't you tell them a story? What story? Cripes, James, you're the one with the famous brain. Yeah, well I can't think of any stories right now. Tell them anything. Tell them Hansel and Gretel. I want HanselnGretel. And the witch. And the candy house with peppermint sticks, Sammy said, from the backseat. James gave in without a quarrel. It was easier to give in to Sammy than to fight him. Dicey turned around to look at them. Maybeth sat hunched in a corner, big-eyed. Dicey smiled at her and Maybeth smiled back. Once upon a time, James began. Maybeth turned to him. Dicey closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She put her feet on the dashboard. She was tired. She'd had to stay awake and read maps, to find roads without tolls. She'd been up since three in the morning. But Dicey couldn't go to sleep. She gnawed away at what was bothering her. For one thing, they never took trips. Momma always said the car couldn't run more than ten miles at a stretch. And here they were in Connecticut, heading down to Bridgeport. For one thing. But that might make sense. All her life, Dicey had been hearing about Momma's aunt Cilla and her big house in Bridgeport that Momma had never seen, and her rich husband who died. Aunt Cilla sent ...

Klappentext

**The iconic start to the timeless, Newbery-winning series from Cynthia Voigt is repackaged with a fresh new look. "It's still true.” That's the first thing James Tillerman says to his older sister, Dicey, every morning. It's still true that their mother has abandoned the four Tillermans in a mall parking lot somewhere in the middle of Connecticut. It's still true that they have to find their own way to Great-aunt Cilla's house in Bridgeport. It's still true that they need to spend as little as possible on food and seek shelter anywhere that is out of view of the authorities. It's still true that the only way they can hope to all stay together is to just keep moving forward. Deep down, Dicey hopes they can find someone to trust, someone who will take them in and love them. But she's afraid it's just too much to hope for....

Leseprobe
Homecoming

CHAPTER 1

The woman put her sad moon-face in at the window of the car. “You be good,” she said. “You hear me? You little ones, mind what Dicey tells you. You hear?”

“Yes, Momma,” they said.

“That’s all right then.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away, her stride made uneven by broken sandal thongs, thin elbows showing through holes in the oversized sweater, her jeans faded and baggy. When she had disappeared into the crowd of Saturday morning shoppers entering the side doors of the mall, the three younger children leaned forward onto the front seat. Dicey sat in front. She was thirteen and she read the maps.

“Why’d we stop?” asked James. “We’re not there yet. We’ve got food. There’s no reason to stop.” James was ten and wanted everything to have a reason. “Dicey?”

“I dunno. You heard everything she said, same as I did. You tell me.”

“All she said was, We gotta stop here. She didn’t say why. She never says why, you know that. Are we out of gas?”

“I didn’t look.” Dicey wanted some quiet for thinking. There was something odd about this whole trip. She couldn’t put her finger on it, not yet. “Why don’t you tell them a story?”

“What story?”

“Cripes, James, you’re the one with the famous brain.”

“Yeah, well I can’t think of any stories right now.”

“Tell them anything. Tell them Hansel and Gretel.”

“I want HanselnGretel. And the witch. And the candy house with peppermint sticks,” Sammy said, from the backseat. James gave in without a quarrel. It was easier to give in to Sammy than to fight him. Dicey turned around to look at them. Maybeth sat hunched in a corner, big-eyed. Dicey smiled at her and Maybeth smiled back. “Once upon a time,” James began. Maybeth turned to him.

Dicey closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She put her feet on the dashboard. She was tired. She’d had to stay awake and read maps, to find roads without tolls. She’d been up since three in the morning. But Dicey couldn’t go to sleep. She gnawed away at what was bothering her.

For one thing, they never took trips. Momma always said the car couldn’t run more than ten miles at a stretch. And here they were in Connecticut, heading down to Bridgeport. For one thing.

But that might make sense. All her life, Dicey had been hearing about Momma’s aunt Cilla and her big house in Bridgeport that Momma had never seen, and her rich husband who died. Aunt Cilla sent Christmas cards year after year, with pictures of baby Jesus on them and long notes inside, on paper so thin it could have been tissue paper. Only Momma could decipher the lacy handwriting with its long, tall letters all bunched together and the lines running into one another because of the long-tailed, fancy z’s and f’s and g’s. Aunt Cilla kept in touch. So it made sense for Momma to go to her for help.

But driving off like that in the middle of the night didn’t make sense. That was the second thing. Momma woke them all up and told them to pack paper bags of clothing while she made sandwiches. She got them all into the …