Rain Reign

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Authors: Ann M. Martin

BOOK: Rain Reign
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In memory of sweet Sadie,

March 11, 1998–October 7, 2013

 

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

I. The First Part

1. Who I Am—A Girl Named Rose (Rows)

2. My Dog, Rain (Reign, Rein)

3. The Rules of Homonyms

4. Some Things About My Father, Whose Name,
Wesley Howard
, Does Not Have a Homonym

5. When We Got Rain

6. Who I Wait For

7. Why I Don't Ride the Bus

8. In My Classroom

9. Mrs. Leibler, Who Sits Next to Me

10. Anders Isn't Following the Rules

11. When Rain Went to School

12. Some More About Homonyms

13. At the End of the Day

II. The Part About the Hurricane

14. The Storm on the Weather Channel

15. Where We Live

16. How to Get Ready for a Hurricane

17. Waiting

18. Storm Sounds

19. Rain Doesn't Come When I Call

20. Why I Get Mad at My Father

21. Rain's Nose

22. What Must Have Happened

III. The Next Part

23. Why My Father Gets Mad at Me

24. I Telephone Uncle Weldon

25. How to Look for a Lost Dog

26. Someone Calls Me Ma'am

27. My Story Is Such a Sad One

28. Riding with Uncle Weldon

29. What Not to Do When You Think of a New Homonym

30. Empty Space

31. The Good Phone Call

32. The Happy Tails Animal Shelter in Elmara, New York

33. What a Microchip Is

34. What Mrs. Caporale Says

IV. The Hard Part

35. The Thing I Have to Do

36. Mrs. Kushel's Helpful Suggestions

37. Where Rain Used to Live

38. The General Store in Gloverstown

39. Found: Blond Female Dog

40. Parvani Finds a Homonym

41. My Father Makes a Mistake with Pronouns

42. Protecting Rain

43. What Mrs. Kushel Says

44. Good-bye

V. The Last Part

45. The Quiet House

46. My Father Has an Argument with His Brother

47. In the Middle of the Night

48. What Happened to My Mother

49. Hud Road

Author's Note

Copyright

 

I

The First Part

 

1

Who I Am—A Girl Named Rose (Rows)

I am Rose Howard and my first name has a homonym. To be accurate, it has a
homophone
, which is a word that's pronounced the same as another word but spelled differently. My homophone name is Rows.

Most people say
homonym
when they mean
homophone
. My teacher, Mrs. Kushel, says this is a common mistake.

“What's the difference between making a mistake and breaking a rule?” I want to know.

“Making a mistake is accidental. Breaking a rule is deliberate.”

“But if—” I start to say.

Mrs. Kushel rushes on. “It's all right to say ‘homonym' when we mean ‘homophone.' That's called a colloquialism.”

“‘Breaking' has a homonym,” I tell her. “‘Braking.'”

I like homonyms a lot. And I like words. Rules and numbers too. Here is the order in which I like these things:

1. Words (especially homonyms)

2. Rules

3. Numbers (especially prime numbers)

I'm going to tell you a story. It's a true story, which makes it a piece of nonfiction.

This is how you tell a story: First you introduce the main character. I'm writing this story about me, so I am the main character.

My first name has a homonym, and I gave my dog a homonym name too. Her name is Rain, which is special because it has two homonyms—rein and reign. I will write more about Rain in Chapter Two. Chapter Two will be called “My Dog, Rain (Reign, Rein).”

Something important about the word
write
is that it has
three
homonyms—right, rite, and wright. That's the only group of four homonyms I've thought of. If I ever think of another four-homonym group, it will be a red-letter day.

I live with my father, Wesley Howard, and neither of his names has a homonym.

From our porch you can see our front yard and our driveway and our road, which is called Hud Road.
Road
has two homonyms—rowed and rode. On the other side (sighed) of the road is a little forest, and through the trees you can see the New York Thruway. The word
see
has a homonym—sea. But even better,
sees
has two homonyms—seas and seize.

I'm in fifth grade at Hatford Elementary. There's only one elementary school in Hatford, New York, and only one fifth-grade classroom in the school, and I'm in it. Most of my classmates are ten years old or about to turn eleven. I'm almost twelve because no one is sure what to do with me in school. I've stayed back for two semesters, which is a total of one year. (1/2
+
1/2
=
1.)

Some of the things I get teased about are following the rules and always talking about homonyms. Mrs. Leibler is my aide and she sits with me in Mrs. Kushel's room. She sits in an adult-size chair next to my fifth-grade-size chair and rests her hand on my arm when I blurt something out in the middle of math. Or, if I whap myself in the head and start to cry, she'll say, “Rose, do you need to step into the hall for a moment?”

Mrs. Leibler tells me that there are things worth talking about besides homonyms and rules and prime numbers. She encourages me to think up conversation starters. Some conversation starters about me that do not have anything to do with homonyms or rules or prime numbers are:

I live in a house that faces northeast. (After I say that, I ask the person I'm trying to have a conversation with, “And which direction does
your
house face?”)

Down the road, 0.7 miles from my house is the J & R Garage, where my father sometimes works as a mechanic, and 0.1 miles farther along is a bar called The Luck of the Irish, where my father goes after work. There is nothing between my house and the J & R Garage except trees and the road. (Tell me some things about
your
neighborhood.)

I have an uncle named Weldon, who is my father's younger brother. (And who else is in
your
family?)

My official diagnosis is high-functioning autism, which some people call Asperger's syndrome. (Do
you
have a diagnosis?)

I will finish up this part of my introduction by telling you that my mother does not live with my father and me. She ran away from our family when I was two. Therefore, the people living in my house are my father and me. The dog living in our house is Rain. Uncle Weldon lives 3.4 miles away on the other side of Hatford.

The next part of my introduction is the setting of my story. I've already told you my geographic location—Hud Road in Hatford, New York. The historical moment in time in which this story begins is October of my year in fifth grade.

Now I will tell you something troubling about fifth grade. It isn't as troubling as what happens later in the story when my father lets Rain outside during a hurricane, but it is still troubling. For the first time in my life I'm being sent home with weekly progress reports that I have to give to my father. The reports are written by Mrs. Leibler and read and signed by Mrs. Kushel, which is my teachers' way of saying that they're in agreement about my behavior. The reports list all of my notable behaviors for Monday through Friday. Some of the comments are nice, such as the ones about when I participate appropriately in a classroom discussion. But most of the comments make my father slam the reports onto the table and say, “Rose, for god's sake, keep your mouth closed when you think of a homonym,” or, “Do you see any of the other kids clapping their hands over their ears and screaming when they hear the fire alarm?”

In the last report Mrs. Leibler and Mrs. Kushel asked my father to schedule monthly meetings with them. Now he's supposed to go to Hatford Elementary on the third Friday of every month at 3:45 p.m. to discuss me. This is what he said when he read that: “I don't have time for meetings. This is way too much trouble, Rose. Why do you
do
these things?” He said that at 3:48 p.m. on a Friday when there was no work for him at the J & R Garage.

Uncle Weldon heard about the monthly meetings on October 3rd at 8:10 in the evening when he was visiting my father and Rain and me.

My father was standing at the front door, holding the letter in his hand and gazing out at the trees and the darkness. “These meetings are crap,” he said.

Uncle Weldon, who was sitting at the Formica kitchen table with me, looked at my father from under his eyelashes and said, “I could go, if you want.” Uncle Weldon has a very soft voice.

My father whipped around and pointed his finger at Weldon. “No! Rose is my responsibility. I can take care of things.”

Weldon lowered his head and didn't answer. But when my father turned around so that he was facing outside again, my uncle held up two crossed fingers, which was his signal to me that everything would be all right (write, rite, wright). I held up my fingers too (two, to), and we each touched our hearts with them.

After that, Rain came into the kitchen and sat on my feet for a while.

Then my uncle left.

Then my father crumpled the letter from Mrs. Leibler and Mrs. Kushel and tossed it into the yard.

That is the end of the introduction to me.

 

2

My Dog, Rain (Reign, Rein)

The next character in my true story is Rain. A character doesn't have to be a human being; a character can be an animal, such as a dog named Rain.

Rain weighs 23 pounds. This is how you weigh a dog: You stand on the scales and weigh yourself. Then you pick up the dog and weigh yourself and the dog together. Then you subtract your weight from the weight of you and the dog together, and that's how much the dog weighs.

(Weigh and way are homonyms.)

Rain's back is 18 inches long. From the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail she's 34 inches long.

Rain's fur is mostly yellow. Seven of her toes are white—two on her right front paw, one on her left front paw, three on her right back paw, and one on her left back paw. Her right ear has brown speckles on it. Her fur is short. Uncle Weldon says she looks sort of like a yellow Labrador retriever. Since a female purebred yellow Lab should weigh 55–70 pounds, Rain is probably not a purebred yellow Lab.

When Rain and I are at home alone together, we sit inside or on the front porch and Rain puts one (won) of her front feet (feat) in (inn) my lap. I rub her toes (tows), and she gazes into my blue (blew) eyes with her eyes, which are the color of a chocolate bar. After a while, she starts to fall asleep. Her brown eyes squint shut until they're completely closed. At bedtime she crawls under the covers with me. If I wake up during the night, I find that Rain has smashed her body against mine and rested her head across my neck.

Rain's breath smells like dog food.

Rain has lived with us for 11 months, which is almost one year. I will tell you more about the night my father brought her home in another chapter, Chapter Five, which will be called “When We Got Rain.”

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