Crenshaw
The heart-warming new story about family and friendships from Newbery Medal-winner Katherine Applegate.Life is tough for ten-year-old Jackson. The landlord is often at the door, there’s not much food in the fridge and he’s worried that any day now the family will have to move out of their home. Again.Crenshaw is a cat. He’s large, he’s outspoken and he’s imaginary. He’s come back into Jackson’s life to help him but is an imaginary friend enough to save this family from losing everything?A heart-warming story about family and friendships from Newbery medal winner Katherine Applegate.
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2015
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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Originally published by Feiwel and Friends, an imprint of Macmillan. Published by arrangement with Pippin Properties Inc. through Rights People, London.
Copyright © 2015 by Katherine Applegate
Harvey. Mary Chase. Copyright © 1944 by Mary Chase. Copyright © renewed, 1971, by Mary Chase. Reprinted with permission.
Cover illustration © Erwin Madrid
Cover design by Rachel Deas and Liz Dresner
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2015
Katherine Applegate asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Catalogue copies of these books are available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007951185
Ebook Edition © August 2015 ISBN: 9780008164515
Version: 2015-10-27
for Jake
Dr Sanderson:
“Think carefully, Dowd. Didn’t you know somebody, sometime, someplace by the name of Harvey? Didn’t you ever know anybody by that name?”
Elwood P. Dowd:
“No, no, not one, Doctor, Maybe that’s why I always had such hopes for it.”
—MARY CHASE, Harvey (1944)
Contents
Copyright
Part One
Chapter 1
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
Have you read?
Acknowledgments
Also by Katherine Applegate
About the Publisher
A door is to open
—A HOLE IS TO DIG:
A FIRST BOOK OF FIRST DEFINITIONS,
written by Ruth Krauss and illustrated by Maurice Sendak
I noticed several weird things about the surfboarding cat.
Thing number one: he was a surfboarding cat.
Thing number two: he was wearing a T-shirt. It said CATS RULE, DOGS DROOL.
Thing number three: he was holding a closed umbrella, like he was worried about getting wet. Which, when you think about it, is kind of not the point of surfing.
Thing number four: no one else on the beach seemed to see him.
He’d grabbed a good wave, and his ride was smooth. But as the cat neared shore, he made the mistake of opening his umbrella. A gust of wind yanked him into the sky. He missed a seagull by seconds.
Even the gull didn’t seem to notice him.
The cat floated over me like a furry balloon. I looked straight up. He looked straight down. He waved.
His coat was black and white, penguin style. He looked like he was heading somewhere fancy in a hairy tuxedo.
He also looked awfully familiar.
“Crenshaw,” I whispered.
I glanced around me. I saw sandcastle builders and Frisbee tossers and crab chasers. But I didn’t see anyone looking at the floating, umbrella-toting surfer cat in the sky.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. Slowly.
Ten seconds seemed like the right amount of time for me to stop being crazy.
I felt a little dizzy. But that happens sometimes when I’m hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
When I opened my eyes, I sighed with relief. The cat was gone. The sky was endless and empty.
Whap. Inches from my toes, the umbrella landed in the sand like a giant dart.
It was red and yellow plastic, decorated with pictures of tiny smiling mice. On the handle, printed in crayon, were the words THIS BUMBERSHOOT BELONGS TO CRENSHAW.
I closed my eyes again. I counted to ten. I opened my eyes, and the umbrella – or the bumbershoot, or whatever it was – had vanished. Just like the cat.
