The watsons go to birmingham pdf download

The watsons go to birmingham pdf download

The Watsons Go to Birmingham,The Watsons Go To Birmingham PDF Book Details

Watsons Birmingham 11/1/01 AM Page 1 THE WATSONS GO TO BIRMINGHAM— This book has been optimized for viewing at a monitor setting of x pixels. Watsons Birmingham 11/1/01 AM Page 2 Watsons Birmingham 11/1/01 AM Page 3 THE WATSONS GO TO BIRMINGHAM— a novel by Christopher Paul Curtis Delacorte Press Watsons The Watsons Go to Birmingham PDF book by Paul Christopher Curtis Read Online or Free Download in ePUB, PDF or MOBI eBooks. Published in the book become immediate 17/03/ · Flint native, Christopher Paul Curtis's first novel won him acclaim for this heartwarming story of an African American family that must come to face some of the most 01/01/ · The Watsons Go to Birmingham - PDF book by Christopher Paul Curtis Read Online or Free Download in ePUB, PDF or MOBI eBooks. Published in January 1st About The Watsons Go to Birmingham– pdf download. Celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Newbery and Coretta Scott King Honoree about an unforgettable family on a road-trip ... read more

She did this whenever she was going to give a smile because she had a great big gap between her front teeth. Laughing only encouraged Dad to cut up more, so when he saw the whole family thinking he was funny he really started putting on a show. He stood up in front of the TV. Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the same time I did. Dad started talking Southern-style, imitating this Hambone guy. Seen a movie about it, think it was made in Flint. Movie called Nanook of the North. Yup, do believe for sure it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flint, Mitch-again. Folks there live in these things called igloos. According to what I seen in this here movie most folks in Flint is Chinese.

Only thing them Chinese folks in that movie et was whales and seals. Momma pulled her hand away from her mouth. Daniel Watson, you are one lying man! Only thing you said that was true was that being in Flint is like living in an igloo. I knew I should have listened to Moses. The life is slower, the people are friendlier—. The phone was still busy. That snake in the grass has got his phone off the hook. She just had that new furnace put in, maybe we can spend the night there. Aunt Cydney was kind of mean but her house was always warm so we kept our fingers crossed that she was home. Everyone, even Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over before we froze to death. Dad went out to try and get the Brown Bomber started.

That was what we called our car. It was a Plymouth that was dull brown and real big, Byron said it was turd brown. Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Great Brown One pulled through again! Everyone cheered, but me and Byron quit cheering and started frowning right away. By the way Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming next. Dad pulled two ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, O. I could tell by the way he was pouting that Byron was going to try and get out of doing his share of he work. I peeked around the back of the car to see what By was up to. He saw me and said, You know what, square? I said, Forget you, and went back over to the other side of the car to finish the back window.

I had half of the ice off when I had to stop again and catch my breath. I heard Byron mumble my name. He mumbled my name again. It sounded like his mouth was full of something. I knew this was a trick, I knew this was going to be How to Survive a Blizzard, Part Two. How to Survive a Blizzard, Part One had been last night when I was outside playing in the snow and Byron and his running buddy, Buphead, came walking by. Buphead has officially been a juvenile delinquent even longer than Byron. Byron put his hands in front of his face and said This is the most important thing to remember, O. Well, first we gotta show you what it feels like to be trapped in a blizzard. You ready? He whispered something to Buphead and they both laughed.

I should have known that the only reason Buphead and By would want to play with me was to do something mean. Byron and Buphead each grabbed one of my arms and one of my legs and swung me between them going, Woo, blizzard warnings! Blizzard warnings! Take cover! Buphead counted to three and on the third swing they let me go in the air. I landed headfirst in a snowbank. But that was O. because I had on three coats, two sweaters, a T-shirt, three pairs of pants and four socks along with a scarf, a hat and a hood. Cool, Baby Bruh, By said, you passed that part of the test with a B-plus, what you think, Buphead?

They put me in between them and started making me spin round and round, it seemed like they spun me for about half an hour. When slob started flying out of my mouth they let me stop and I wobbled around for a while before they pushed me back in the same snow-bank. They whispered some more and then By said, What you think, Buphead? You passed the wind test and did real good on the balance test but now we gotta see if you ready to graduate. Read lessThis is a complete e-book covering all aspects of The Watsons Go To Birmingham. The authors have years of experience between them, so you will not want to miss out. The book is packed full of useful content and covers every angle. It is definitely worth your time. The The Watsons Go To Birmingham is a wonderful e-book that offers you an perception into the contents of The Watsons Go To Birmingham and distinct similar materials.

The author of this e-book is an author with many years of revel in, so he is aware of all the strategies that will help you get the maximum from your financing! Are you seeking out a book written with the aid of manner of an professional? Then you definitely have to buy The Watsons Go To Birmingham. This e-book is written through a writer who has hundreds of revel in, consequently the content material cloth. The writer of this e-book is an professional author, so you do now not want to leave out this. Rufus started acting like I was his friend. Cordell put his regular seat next to mine in school. Every day at lunchtime he followed me out to the playground and ate half of my second sandwich, then sneaked the other half to Cody.

He even found out where we lived and started coming over every night around five-thirty. That was because someone had to be the American dinosaurs and someone had to be the Nazi ones. The only other guy I used to play with was LJ Jones, but I quit playing with him when a lot of my dinosaurs started disappearing. We need to have one great big battle! If this was going to be a famous battle we needed more fighters. My plan worked perfect! After I went and picked up the pillowcase I set up my dinosaurs and LJ set up the Nazis and we started the battle. He took first shot and killed about thirty of mine with an atomic bomb.

My dinosaurs shot back and got twenty of his with a hand grenade. The battle was going great! Dinosaurs were falling right, left and center. We had a great big pile of dead dinosaurs off to the side and had to keep shaking more and more reinforcements out of the pillowcase. I knew LJ was going to try to get me to go away for a minute so he could steal a bunch of my monsters. Think about how dangerous that is. LJ flipped him on the dead dinosaur pile. We gotta bury the dead ones before they infect the rest of the live ones. We fought and killed dinosaurs for such a long time that we had to make two more graves with two more big rocks on top of them. From the way his pockets were sticking out it looked like he had one Tyrannosaurus rex and one triceratops.

LJ was talking a mile a minute. You ever seen a nekkid lady? I put on my tennis shoes, got my night-reading flashlight, climbed out the back window and went down the tree into the backyard. The second grave was empty too. I think it took them three days to push the rock far enough so he could squeeze out. But I was just making excuses to myself for being so stupid. I never played with LJ again after that. So playing with Rufus got to be O. I was wrong when I said that me and Rufus being near each other all the time would make people tease both of us twice as much. The first thing wrong with Rufus was the way he talked.

The other thing wrong with him was his clothes. That was easy to do because Rufus only had two shirts and two pairs of pants and Cody only had three shirts and two pairs of pants. They also had one pair of blue jeans that they switched off on; some days Rufus wore them and some days Cody rolled the legs up and put them on. We had been sort of secret friends for a couple of weeks before people really started getting on them about not having a bunch of clothes. I looked over at Cody. He had the blue jeans on today and was pulling the waist out to check out his underpants. Rufus shot a look at me. I tried to squeeze the rest of my laugh down. Things got real strange. Ever since Momma had met Rufus and I told her about sharing my sandwiches with him she had been giving me four sandwiches and three apples for lunch.

The bag was still there when the bell rang. After this junk went on for three or four days I sneaked the pillowcase full of dinosaurs out and headed over to where Rufus lived. I knocked on the door and Cody answered. I thought things might be back to being O. A minute later Rufus came to the door. He pulled Cody out of the doorway and shut it. A couple of days later Momma asked me to sit in the kitchen with her for a while. At exactly five-thirty there was a knock and I knew who it was and I knew what I had to do. Momma and Joey were in the living room and when they heard the knock everything there got real quiet. Rufus and Cody were standing on the porch smiling a mile a minute. I really wanted him to know. Why you think I came back? I was pretty sure she already knew. We wore so many clothes that when we pulled our final coat on we could barely bend our arms. It was my job to make sure Joey got out of her coats and things O. Joey usually looked like a little zombie while I peeled the coats and jackets off of her.

We pulled and pulled but it seemed like the harder we pulled, the harder the boot sucked the shoe back in. We tugged and tugged and the shoe started coming out an inch at a time. Finally it made that funny sound like water going down the drain and slid out of the boot. The next morning Momma was burying Joey in all her clothes again. Joey was doing the usual whining and complaining. Me and Byron went outside and waited on the porch. Who you think took all that stuff off your little behind all these years? What goes around goes around. It must have looked like we were doing some kind of square dance with me moving around like one foot was nailed to the porch.

You were the cryingest little clown there ever was. Byron changed directions and started going around the other way, and I acted like my other foot was nailed to the porch and started following him sideways that way. I bet we looked like the solar system, with me being the sun and Byron being the orbiting Earth. You know, kinda put her mind at ease. Joey finally came out and the three of us walked toward the bus stop. Byron started right in. Only me and Kenny wear this much junk. Even though I was in fourth grade I fell for a lot of the stuff Byron came up with. He made everything seem real interesting and important. Baby Sis, your turn. Do all that stuff and throw your arms up like you just heard some real shocking stuff. Joey, you was right, every cold morning like this the streets is full of dead, froze people. Her mouth was open and her eyes were bugging. The only good thing about Momma being afraid of the cold was that we were the only kids at Clark who got to wear real leather gloves.

Most of the other kids had to wear cheap plastic mittens that would start to crack up after two or three snowball fights or one real cold day. Some of them had to wear socks on their hands and some of them just had to scrunch their arms up in the sleeves of their jackets. The only problem with having two pairs of gloves was that if you lost one pair you had to wear the next pair kindergartenstyle. For a while I shared my first pair of gloves with him. This was O. It worked! I gave Rufus the right hand glove and everything was fine, for about a week. Rufus had to let me borrow one of my old gloves back and we were back to scrunching one hand each up in our coat sleeves, but since Rufus was now the official owner of the gloves he got to keep the right hand one and I had to wear the left hand one.

Two days later Larry Dunn stopped wearing socks on his hands and started wearing a pair of real leather gloves with real rabbit fur on the inside of them. Country Corn Flake? Cockeye Kenny? Larry gave what he called Maytag Washes. Larry was tearing me up, I was crying even before the first rinse cycle was done and he finally let me go. Larry Dunn had stolen my gloves, then painted them black with shoe polish! Larry Dunn was giving a Super Maytag to a fifth-grader. This had to be killing Larry Dunn. The palms of the gloves were brown and the backs were black.

Byron threw me the gloves. I gave Larry Dunn a slap on the arm. Pop him. He was just being mean. Larry Dunn was really tough! Larry landed on his butt. Byron was the only person in the world who could make you feel sorry for someone as mean as Larry Dunn. The Great Carp Escape was about a carp that was trying to get out of a net in the Flint River. The stupid fish would run into the net, get knocked down, then get back up and run into the net all over again. Since he was the star, Larry Dunn had to play the carp and the fence around Clark was the net. I could hear the jink-jink sound of that carp hitting the net and the screams and laughs of the audience from half a block away. Nazi Parachutes Attack America and Get Shot Down over the Flint River by Captain Byron Watson and His Flamethrower of Death B yron got caught lighting matches again and it looked like this time Momma was going to do what she always said she would.

She swore to him, though, that the next time he got caught starting fires she was going to burn him. She told us that same sad old story about how when she was a little girl her house caught on fire and for two years after that she and her brothers had to wear clothes that smelled like smoke. Even though the story made Momma and Joey get all sad and sobby it was kind of funny to me and By. I was up in the bedroom looking at comic books when I heard Byron go into the bathroom and lock the door. I knew something was up, since he only locked the door when he had something to hide. I sneaked to the bathroom door and peeked through the keyhole. The guy in the Nazi parachute screamed as he floated down in flames and landed in the water with a loud hiss. Byron was on take seven when Momma finally wondered why the toilet was being flushed so much and came upstairs to see what was going on. The whole upstairs smelled like a giant match and she knew something was fishy even before she got to the top step.

She moved so quick and quiet that I still had my eyeball in the keyhole when she stepped into the hallway. I looked up and there she was. He looked like one of those ballerinas that dance just on the tips of their toes. Momma had her hand around his throat like it was a baseball bat and was holding him up in the air. I never knew Momma was so strong! They danced into the living room and Joey started looking nervous. She ran over and huddled up next to me. It was almost too scary to watch but I kept looking since I knew there was going to be some real big action this time! He kept pretending he was Daddy Cool, though, and the only way you could tell he was scared to death was by looking at his eyes. While one hand had been strangling Byron the other hand had been strangling the matches! The matches were soaking wet because whenever Momma got scared or nervous or mad her hands got real sweaty and disgusting. Byron nodded his head and Momma let go of his throat and stormed into the kitchen.

Old Mr. Get out of here. She was going to set him on fire, then patch him up right at home! Joetta saw the Vaseline and went crazy. Nazi Parachutes Attack America and Get Shot Down over the Flint River by Captain Byron Watson and His Flamethrower of Death looked like a real cool movie for me to make too. If Momma just gave Byron some stupid punishment, then maybe it would be worth it for me to flush some Nazis down the drain myself. His face? His hair? But if she was just going to set his clothes on fire why did she need Vaseline? I knew Momma was going for skin! Joey spread her arms out to the side like a traffic cop and stood between Momma and Byron. They wrestled like this a couple of times before Momma finally set all the burning equipment down and sat on the coffee table and pulled Joey into her lap. What do you think, do you think I should break my word to God? She went to Sunday school three days a week.

Byron was fast. Momma was faster. Momma sure is a good athlete! He started crying. He was hypnotized all over again! play with—no, if you ever even look at. another match in this house. I will personally, by myself. I will burn not just one finger, I will burn your entire hand, then send you to juvenile home! Right when the fire was going to give him a good roasting Joetta ran across the room and, sounding like that Little Engine That Thought It Could, she blew the match out before it got him! Finally Momma got sick of having slob all over her hand and gave up. That night Byron had to deal with Dad. No picnic, but a lot better ending to his Nazi parachutes movie than Captain Byron Watson Gets Captured and Burned Alive by the Evil Snake Woman with His Own Flamethrower of Death. If you were stupid enough to ask your question again there would be the loudest quiet in the world coming from Momma.

We went into the kitchen. Mitchell you want to sign for it. Mitchell I wanna sign for some food? Mitchell will let us sign for groceries until payday. Lots of people do it. A half gallon of milk, a loaf of bread and a small can of tomato paste. If I found out we were on welfare I was going to really have to get ready to be teased. You really gonna start serving welfare food in this house? You really gonna make me go embarrass myself by signing a welfare list for some groceries like a blanged peon? High and Mighty, since you just got to know, food is food. I already told you, this is not welfare food. Kenny, move. Then he dropped the bomb on me. Byron disappeared around the comic-book rack. Mitchell twisted his face up. Mitchell laughed. Mitchell reached under the counter and opened up a little brown box.

We just had a chance to get a bagful of free food and all we took was some stupid milk, a loaf of bread and a can of tomato sauce! He was smiling and even put his arm around my shoulder as we walked. His mood was so much better that he even took the bag of groceries from me. Too, too much! As we walked home with his arm around my shoulder I thought I might get a real answer from him. Peons was them folks what was so poor that the rich folks would just as soon pee on them as anything else. You could get yourself in a lot of trouble if you listened to half the stuff Byron said.

But I asked my next question anyway. You ever seen any udders on Dad? That milk come out of one of them big brown boxes they keep up on them high shelves, pure-D welfare food! Who ever heard of cheese coming in a box as big as a loaf of bread? You ever try to pick one of them things up? Real cheese come in hunks or slices, not no blanged loaf that weigh forty pounds. I always thought there was something strange about that mess and now I know, she been sneaking us welfare food! Pure-D welfare food! It went by like a little flying saucer, then crashed in the dirt. Sure enough, another cookie hit me right in the back and a big laugh came out of the green-apple tree.

He dropped out of the tree like a superhero. He had a great big bag of cookies in one hand and a green apple with a giant bite out of it in the other. I knew this was a trick, the bag must have been empty, but I looked inside anyway. There was still a half a bag of cookies! They were clean, but I still kept waiting for the trick. Why would Byron waste four good cookies on me? Swedish Cremes have got to be the best cookies in the world. I gulped them down and wiped my hands on my pants. He jumped up and snatched a green apple off the tree, checked it for wormholes, then handed it to me. Then I noticed a crumpled-up Swedish Cremes bag on the ground next to the tree and I could figure out why he was being so generous.

A bell went off in my head. He had me. I took another one. By went over to the green-apple tree and slid his back against it until he was sitting down. By just sat there chomping down apples, so I tried to think what him and Buphead would talk about when they sat around like this. Now do it! This was a perfect day! But like always, By ruined it. The bird was about the size of a pigeon and was grayish brown with a long pointy tail hanging underneath it. The cookie popped the bird smack-jab in the chest! But now By had knocked a bird right out of the sky with a Swedish Creme cookie! Dead as a donut. You got a bird! He dropped the bird, walked over to the greenapple tree and started throwing up. When it looked like he was done I walked over and put my hand on his back.

As soon as I touched him, he popped me in the arm, hard! Them apples got me sick, you little crosseyed punk! It was hard to understand what was going on with Byron. If he just had a sausage growing off of his nose people might laugh at him behind his back but no one would have nerve enough to tease him to his face and call him Weenie-Nose or something. Sometimes I hated him that much and thought he was the meanest person in the world. Right in the spot where the bird had crashed By had dug a little grave, and on top of the grave there were two Popsicle sticks tied together in a cross. Leave it to Daddy Cool to kill a bird, then give it a funeral. Leave it to Daddy Cool to torture human kids at school all day long and never have his conscience bother him but to feel sorry for a stupid little grayish brown bird. Every Chihuahua in America Lines up to Take a Bite out of Byron I was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework and watching Momma make dinner when Byron came in through the back door.

Both me and Momma smelled a rat. Byron started walking toward Momma in slow motion, sliding his feet on the linoleum. He pulled off his hat and stood there looking down, like his shoes were all of a sudden real interesting. Momma sucked in a ton of air. A process! A butter! A ton of trouble! His hair was reddish brown, straight, stiff and slick-looking. He smoothed his hair back in place. Byron stood there looking at his feet and I kept pretending I was doing homework. Finally Momma slammed the knife down and turned around to look at By again. Byron stood perfectly still while Momma walked around him a couple of times taking a better look at his hair. This looked like the Indians circling the wagons again, but this time it was Byron who had to be the white people! What do you think? Does it make you look any better? Momma was right. With big clumps of his hair sticking out to the side over his ears like that he really did look like Bozo. I broke out laughing, but Byron shot me a real dirty look and I stopped and looked back down at my math book.

I hated it when things like that happened and my head automatically went down by itself! I told Joey about what happened as soon as our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Davidson, brought her home from Sunday school. Me and Joey went up to see Byron. Byron was on the top bunk with his feet dangling over the side and his hands covering his face. I started in on him as soon as me and Joey got into the room. That made me a lot braver. Would you like to stick around and write down his last words? She turned back to him. There was only one other fourteen-year-old in the neighborhood who had a conk. I answered for him. This is just like that show I seen about wolves. They said that the top-dog wolf is always getting challenged by jive little wolves.

Joey and I ran over to the bedroom window that looked out to the street. The Brown Bomber had just parked in front of the house. Joey started blubbering. Dad got out of the Brown Bomber. Why do you always do stuff to get people mad at you? There is a surprise that one of your little darlings has for you, though. How serious this time? If you were happy with your son the way he was, this might be pretty bad. Show me. Byron dear, could you please come down here for a minute? Byron took a deep breath, then jumped off the top bunk and started down the stairs. I followed right behind him pretending I was a reporter. I shoved an imaginary microphone in his face. Anything to say to all the little Chihuahuas before they start coming out of the woodwork? Do you think the governor might call before they pull the switch? Are you going to come clean and tell what led you down the road to crime?

My legs started wobbling like my knees were made out of Jell-O, my eyes started leaking water, my nose started running. I tried to go tell on By, but all I could do was sit on the next-tothe-last step and hold my ear as tears jumped out of my eyes. Joey sat on the step next to me with tears jumping out of her eyes too. We looked at each other. Whenever Dad repeated everything you said like this some real big trouble was about to follow. Dad looked surprised to see me and Joey sitting there. He smiled at us. Hi, Punkin. Why are you two crying? Someone had stuffed some toilet paper in the hole, though, so I had to drop to the floor and peek under the door to see what was going on.

Dad was rumbling around in the medicine cabinet. Dad kept whistling and cutting. Joey sat next to her still looking worried. The three of us sat on the couch for about half an hour before we heard By scream as loud as he could. Dad came down the steps first. You can tell this boy has got a ton of Sands blood in him, look at those ears! This is it, By. Now beat it. They sent me and Joey outside so they could have one of those adults-only talks. When me and Joey drifted back into the house after what seemed enough time for them to talk, Dad was on the telephone. He was holding the receiver away from his ear and making a funny face. I could hear someone yelling from the phone. All the way in Alabama! We love you. And that was it. The Ultra-Glide! First Momma started writing in a notebook and adding things up and subtracting things, then Dad and Joey and Rufus and me started driving all over Flint buying things for the Brown Bomber.

We stopped at Genesee Junkyard and bought a new antenna for the radio and four new used tires, then we stopped at Mr. Johnson to help put all that stuff in the car, then we washed and waxed the Brown Bomber. It still looks like a turd on wheels, but I gotta admit, now it looks like a polished turd. While Joey cleaned the windows, me and Rufus washed the seats, even the parts that were torn and worn away. But the more we washed them the worse they looked and Dad ended up going back to the Yankee Store and buying some brown-and-white seat covers for the front seat. The Brown Bomber looked great! We brought Momma out and showed it to her and she gave us one of those big hand-over-her-mouth smiles. Any guesses as to what that is? The thing in the middle of the hood was a long chrome rocket that pointed out over the road.

The only thing that was wrong with it was that one of the wings of the rocket was broken off. Like with everything else, Dad had a crazy explanation for that. The one on there now is perfectly fine. Rufus, your turn, what do you think? Well, since Kenneth and Momma have insulted the Great Brown One, I guess that leaves it up to Rufus and Punkin to put the final piece on. She turned her back to everyone and looked inside. Joey hung the smelly green pine tree from the rearview mirror and scooted out of the car to let me and Rufus smell her fingers. On Saturday morning Joey and me got up real early to watch cartoons and Dad was already up brushing his teeth and shaving.

I went into the bathroom to watch him. I love the way that shaving soap smells. That was the only time he ever growled at someone in his own family. Dad was stirring the soap dish up with his shaving brush, and I got close to the sink to smell the soap. Dad painted his face with the soap, then bent down and rinsed it off. I know it sounds crazy, but he always did this twice, he said it really made your beard super-soft. Could it be that you want me to soap your face up and hold you up here while you shave it off? I automatically turned my head sideways when I saw my reflection. Some of the time I forgot all about my lazy eye. He put me down. Even though I knew he might be kidding, I broke out in a real big smile and nodded my head up and down. Dad started shaving. Dad missed Felix the Cat, Soupy Sales, Beany and Cecil,The Rae Deane Show and Betty Boop.

He missed Momma getting up and Byron getting up. When he finally got back we were all sitting on the couch watching the worst cartoon ever made, Clutch Cargo. Dad walked in and turned the TV off. You too, Daddy-o, and you too,Wilona. Following Dad, we walked down the front porch steps and stood on the sidewalk like a little parade. I bet the neighbors wondered what the Weird Watsons were doing this time. Wilona, you hold on to mine. This is only going to take a minute. Dad shuffled us ahead a little bit and then we all stopped. It was real hard not to peek. We knew a certain person had peeked and got popped, right smack-jab on that bald head. In the middle of the dashboard, to the right of the steering wheel, something real big was sticking out. Dad had taken one of our giant towels and set it over the thing.

Everybody stood there staring. Momma had a worried voice. I talked real fast before Momma could get any madder. Too much, man, way too much! She really hurt his feelings by walking off like that. Some of the time I think she forgot how sensitive Dad was. But Dad forgot all this stuff real quick and got excited about showing off the record player. Dad was like me, he loved putting on a show, or as Momma said, we both loved acting the fool. it is Mr. and Mrs. Our real son has hair! Dad kept imitating the guy who sold him the record player. Walter Cronkite said it was a miracle! Walt has two of these babies in his car and one on his motorcycle! Well, let me explain. What we have here is, believe it or not, a second speaker! And I can tell by that intelligent look on your face, Mrs. I knew she was using Byron as an excuse to come back out and see what was going on. I guess all the laughing and fun we were having made her want to join in. Now that she was back Dad started really cutting up.

Byron lifted the record that was already on the turntable and started putting one of his own cool songs on. First we have a special request from a certain young lady to a certain handsome young man. Boy, did they think we were blind? Even though Dad thought he was being slick, everybody saw this. Momma puckered up her lips to squeeze down a smile and crossed her arms over her chests, Joetta giggled and me and Byron scrunched our faces up. Momma did a fakety little slap at his hand and smiled. Dad turned the key and the Brown Bomber fired up. Put your love thing in drive, Bring your little world alive. Spin it, maestro! Joey grabbed my arm with one hand and squealed into her other one. Byron was grinning like a giant, bald-headed kindergarten baby. Momma still had her arms crossed but was starting to smile. She brought one hand up to cover her mouth. I guess I was grinning pretty hard too. He put his hand up to stop the noise. We all froze. Even the Brown Bomber seemed to get quieter as the V.

arm from the record player lifted itself and moved toward the 45 that was on the turntable. A moment of silence and then. Momma screamed and put both of her hands over her mouth. We sat in the car for almost two hours as everybody got a chance to go in the house and get their favorite records. The Ultra-Glide cast a spell on all of the Weird Watsons. This sounded like the way Byron and me found out we were going to get a sister. Something big was going on. Byron looked at Momma and Dad with his mouth wide open. Momma started ticking off the things that Byron called his Latest Fantastic Adventures. problem with Mary Ann Hill, you set mousetraps in the backyard for birds, you fell out of that tree when you were trying to see if that poor cat always landed on its feet, you got that conk, you joined that gang.

I could list about a hundred more. There are lots of nice boys your age down there who you can be friends with. Things are a lot better there. I love that city. He also knew it would be just about impossible for her to sit on a bus with him for the three days it took to get there. The thought of living with her was so terrible that your brain would throw it out as soon as it came in. The big, cool baby finally shut his mouth and ran into the house. He slammed the door as hard as he could and we all heard him say, real clear, the S word. The Watsons Go to Birmingham— T hat Sunday I got up early. When I got into the living room I was surprised to see the front door open. I looked outside and saw Dad sitting in the Brown Bomber. I guess he was listening to records because he had his arm across the seat and was beating his hand up and down like it was a drum.

I ran back upstairs to the bedroom and changed out of my pajamas. He was still in the car so I ran downstairs and through the front door. I remembered and caught the screen just before it slammed. I tapped on the window and Dad turned and smiled at me, then pointed to the passenger side for me to get in. I ran around the car and climbed in. He reached over and turned the Ultra-Glide down a little bit. Do you understand? He looked like he was thinking whether or not he should tell me something. He was looking straight at me, and even though it was real hard, I looked right back at him. I nodded. Hopefully he can see that there comes a time to let all of the silliness go. Some of the time when you think about being a grown-up it gets to be kind of scary.

It seems like you and Momma know a lot of things that I can never learn. It seems real scary. Do you remember how big and scary the car seemed to be the first time you were behind the wheel? Even though I knew he was watching everything real close it still was scary to steer the Brown Bomber. A lot scarier. I had to promise to play it only three times, though. Me and Joey were in the living room playing when Momma and our neighbor Mrs. Davidson came in. Hello, Kenneth. I could kill Joey the way she opened presents. Instead of ripping the wrapping paper off she hunted around to find each piece of tape, then peeled it off real careful.

It took her about two days to get all the paper off and open the box. Joey finally held up her present. Davidson took the present from Joey and handed it to Momma. Look at that smile! The minute I saw it it reminded me of Joetta! Is that her smile or what? In fact, do you know what I named this angel? Davidson had bought Joey a little angel that was kind of chubby and had big wings and a halo made out of straw. The only thing about its smile that looked like Joey to me was that the angel had a great big dimple too. It was made out of white clay and it looked like someone had forgotten to paint it. The only thing that had any color on it were its cheeks and its eyes.

The cheeks were red and the eyes were blue. Thank you, Mrs. Davidson looked like she was going to cry. She liked her that much. When Mrs. What was wrong? Momma went and got the angel and sat next to Joey. Look at that dimple. Keep the angel around, you might get to like it. Where do you want me to put it? He acted like nothing was going to happen, even though Momma got a bunch of our clothes together and put them in suitcases. Even after a few more yelling phone calls were made to Alabama, Daddy Cool just kept being cool. After all of this stuff it was finally the night before we were supposed to leave. Byron was up in his bunk and I was down in mine. I was so excited that I was talking a mile a minute, but I was talking to myself.

Byron, you come with us. I just shrugged. I guess the grapevine had gotten back to Momma and Dad that By was going to make a prison break tonight before he got transferred to Alabama. He thought I was the snitch but it was Joey. I sneaked out of bed after Momma and Dad arrested Byron. I was too excited to sleep and too excited to read. One road! We leave Flint and drive for three hundred miles in about five or five and a half hours, that will take us to Cincinnati. Me and Joey shook our heads. Byron looked out of the window. We brought plenty of blankets so you kids will be able to sleep on the floor. Byron just kept looking out of the window. That should put us right outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. Johnson says that there are some clean, safe rest stops there so we can spend the night in the car.

This only encouraged Dad to say some more Southern-style stuff. When she finished reading all that stuff to us I asked her if I could look at the notebook. Man, Momma sure is a bad artist! We heard a bunch of boring junk about the expressway—how many years it took to finish it, how many miles long it was, how much it cost to build it, how it ran all the way from the Upper Peninsula in Michigan to Florida, all kinds of thrilling news. The only thing that was a little bit interesting was how many people got killed and hurt making the road. You never would think putting an expressway down was so dangerous. She really did try to make the trip interesting. The most interesting part for me, though, was going to be Byron. They were sitting in the upper bunk and I was in the lower one. You gonna be black as the ace of spades when you get back, they got some sho-nuff sun down there!

How long that trip gonna take? How many red cars so far? What kind of person would talk about their own momma? But I had to get him back, so I called him the only thing that bothered him. Just outside of Toledo we pulled over at a rest stop. The Ohio rest stop was really cool! It was chopped right out of the forest and had picnic tables made out of giant logs. The bathrooms were made out of the same kind of log cabin wood. The only thing about them was that they looked kind of small from the outside. Daniel, could you open the trunk so I can get the things out of the cooler? As soon as I opened the door I gagged! Instead of a white stool with a seat there was just a seat on a piece of wood with a great big, open, black hole underneath with the sound of flies coming out of it. No flusher, no water, no nothing. It looked like if you sat on the seat you might end up getting sucked down under Ohio somewhere! The woods outside looked like a whole lot better bathroom. When I was done in the woods I passed Byron, who forgot again about his promise not to talk.

We ate our lunch on one of the picnic tables and Momma made a jug of Kool-Aid with water that me and Joey pumped. Only Momma liked it, though. The water seemed like it had metal in it and made the KoolAid taste like grape medicine. How you gonna have a hole for a toilet and not get folks sick? The way she looks at it a house is a whole lot nicer place if the facilities are outside. After lunch By went back into the log cabin outhouse and came back with his pockets bulging with toilet paper. I did a lot better than Joey, though. She stretched out across the backseat and me and By argued about who would hold her head and who would hold her feet. Joey drooled a lot and so it was the worse job to hold her head.

This The Watsons Go To Birmingham is the statistics you are seeking out. The content of this e-book will cover all you need to observe and be aware of. That may be a e-book that covers the problem in exclusive angles and makes it clean for the users to apprehend the idea of The Watsons Go To Birmingham. That could be a awesome e-book to seek advice from if you want to apprehend extra about The Watsons Go To Birmingham. I would recommend this ebook for folks who need to understand greater about The Watsons Go To Birmingham and are seeking out strategies to enhance their abilties. Celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Newbery and Coretta Scott King Honoree about an unforgettable family on a road-trip during one of the most important times in the civil rights movement. One of the best novels EVER. Product details ASIN : Publisher : Yearling September 8, Language : English Paperback : pages ISBN : ISBN : Reading age : 8 — 12 years Lexile measure : L Grade level : 3 — 7 Item Weight : 5.

Editorial Reviews From the Publisher Enter the hilarious world of year-old Kenny and his family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan. From the Inside Flap A wonderful middle-grade novel narrated by Kenny, 9, about his middle-class black family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan. From the Back Cover A wonderful middle-grade novel narrated by Kenny, 9, about his middle-class black family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan. About the Author Christopher Paul Curtis won the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Award for his bestselling second novel, Bud, Not Buddy. His first novel, The Watsons Go to Birmingham—, was also singled out for many awards, and has been a bestseller in hardcover and paperback. His most recent novels for Random House include The Mighty Miss Malone, Mr. Christopher Paul Curtis grew up in Flint, Michigan.

After high school he began working on the assembly line at the Fisher Body Plant No. He is now a full-time writer, and lives with his family in Windsor, Ontario. All rights reserved. And You Wonder Why We Get Called the Weird Watsons It was one of those super-duper-cold Saturdays. One of those days that when you breathed out your breath kind of hung frozen in the air like a hunk of smoke and you could walk along and look exactly like a train blowing out big, fat, white puffs of smoke. It was so cold that if you spit, the slob would be an ice cube before it hit the ground. It was about a zillion degrees below zero. It was even cold inside our house.

We put sweaters and hats and scarves and three pairs of socks on and still were cold. The thermostat was turned all the way up and the furnace was banging and sounding like it was about to blow up but it still felt like Jack Frost had moved in with us. All of my family sat real close together on the couch under a blanket. My little sister, Joetta, sat in the middle and all you could see were her eyes because she had a scarf wrapped around her head. I was next to her and on the outside was my mother. All you could see were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox.

Dad was bundled next to Joey, trying to look at anything but Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little space between them, was my older brother, Byron. Dad turned on the TV to try to make us forget how cold we were but all that did was get him in trouble. He was smiling when he said this but none of the Watson family thought it was funny. We all looked over at Dad. He just shook his head and pulled the blanket over his eyes. Dad coughed real loud and jumped off the couch to turn the TV off but we all heard the weatherman say,. the mid-seventies! The guy might as well have tied Dad to a tree and said, Ready, aim, fire! Dad said, Oh Lord, not that sorry story. But if you do tell it, make sure you get all the facts right.

We all huddled as close as we could get because we knew Dad was going to try to make us forget about being cold by cutting up. Me and Joey started smiling right away, and Byron tried to look cool and bored. You guys came real close to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson. Daniel Watson, you stop right there. Before you started that everyone called him his Christian name, Moses. Hambone Henderson. Me and your granddaddy called him that because the boy had a head shaped like a hambone, had more knots and bumps on his head than a dinosaur. Me and Joey cracked up, Byron kind of chuckled and Momma put her hand over her mouth. She did this whenever she was going to give a smile because she had a great big gap between her front teeth. Laughing only encouraged Dad to cut up more, so when he saw the whole family thinking he was funny he really started putting on a show.

He stood up in front of the TV. Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the same time I did. Dad started talking Southern-style, imitating this Hambone guy. Seen a movie about it, think it was made in Flint. Movie called Nanook of the North. Yup, do believe for sure it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flint, Mitch-again. Folks there live in these things called igloos. According to what I seen in this here movie most folks in Flint is Chinese. Only thing them Chinese folks in that movie et was whales and seals. Momma pulled her hand away from her mouth.

Daniel Watson, you are one lying man! Only thing you said that was true was that being in Flint is like living in an igloo. I knew I should have listened to Moses. The life is slower, the people are friendlier—. The phone was still busy. That snake in the grass has got his phone off the hook. She just had that new furnace put in, maybe we can spend the night there. Aunt Cydney was kind of mean but her house was always warm so we kept our fingers crossed that she was home. Everyone, even Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over before we froze to death. Dad went out to try and get the Brown Bomber started. That was what we called our car. It was a Plymouth that was dull brown and real big, Byron said it was turd brown. Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Great Brown One pulled through again! Everyone cheered, but me and Byron quit cheering and started frowning right away.

By the way Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming next. Dad pulled two ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, O. I could tell by the way he was pouting that Byron was going to try and get out of doing his share of he work. I peeked around the back of the car to see what By was up to. He saw me and said, You know what, square? I said, Forget you, and went back over to the other side of the car to finish the back window. I had half of the ice off when I had to stop again and catch my breath. I heard Byron mumble my name. He mumbled my name again. It sounded like his mouth was full of something. I knew this was a trick, I knew this was going to be How to Survive a Blizzard, Part Two. How to Survive a Blizzard, Part One had been last night when I was outside playing in the snow and Byron and his running buddy, Buphead, came walking by.

Buphead has officially been a juvenile delinquent even longer than Byron. Byron put his hands in front of his face and said This is the most important thing to remember, O. Well, first we gotta show you what it feels like to be trapped in a blizzard. You ready? He whispered something to Buphead and they both laughed. I should have known that the only reason Buphead and By would want to play with me was to do something mean. Byron and Buphead each grabbed one of my arms and one of my legs and swung me between them going, Woo, blizzard warnings! Blizzard warnings! Take cover! Buphead counted to three and on the third swing they let me go in the air. I landed headfirst in a snowbank.

Watsons Go To Birmingham by Christopher Paul Curtis,About the Author of The Watsons Go To Birmingham PDF Free Download Book

01/01/ · The Watsons Go to Birmingham - PDF book by Christopher Paul Curtis Read Online or Free Download in ePUB, PDF or MOBI eBooks. Published in January 1st become The Watsons Go to Birmingham— At the end of the year, he took a chance and submitted the manuscript to a national contest for unpublished authors. An editor plucked The Watsons Go to Birmingham PDF book by Paul Christopher Curtis Read Online or Free Download in ePUB, PDF or MOBI eBooks. Published in the book become immediate About The Watsons Go to Birmingham– pdf download. Celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Newbery and Coretta Scott King Honoree about an unforgettable family on a road-trip 17/03/ · Flint native, Christopher Paul Curtis's first novel won him acclaim for this heartwarming story of an African American family that must come to face some of the most 09/04/ · Check Pages of The Watsons Go To Birmingham in the flip PDF version. The Watsons Go To Birmingham was published by Hung-Ting Kuo on Find more ... read more

It was fun to play like I was a pirate for a while but that got boring. She told us that same sad old story about how when she was a little girl her house caught on fire and for two years after that she and her brothers had to wear clothes that smelled like smoke. Go geh Momma! Dad went out to try and get the Brown Bomber started. You guys came real close to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson.

Little tiny hairs were coming out of his face. If he just had a sausage growing off of his nose people might laugh at him behind his back but no one would have nerve enough to tease him to his face and call him Weenie-Nose or something. business account Paperback: pages Publisher: Yearling September 8, Language: English ISBN. Revert Cancel. Reviewer: Hayley Inman - favorite favorite - January 22, Subject: i don't like the narrator His voice gave me the Hey i'm a killer vibe even though his was really into the book he still gave me that vibe, the watsons go to birmingham pdf download. Then my neck got rubberized again and my head nodded down. Mitchell twisted his face up.