Full Moon, Half a Heart
Sixth grade is almost over. Celeste loves Kansas—-her grandparents, her trailer house on the edge of town, almost everything—-but Dad is moving them north to Wisconsin. To a stinky dairy farm, at that.
Far from Sunflower State Mennonite School and her friend Lexi, Celeste struggles to adjust to a place where school feels like prison, winter lasts forever, and her only pal is a Siamese cat. Worst of all is the barn full of scary cows to feed.
Can Celeste find something likable about this place? Maybe Sally or Rita, her new classmates? Or the calf she saves? (Definitely not Ronnie, of course!)
With so many tough changes, Celeste must grow and be strong, no matter how it hurts.
Excerpt :
Dad explained that the cows had to be tied to their stalls while Mom milked them so they couldn’t run away. Slowly I crept toward the nearest, a black one who calmly chewed its cud. I found the chain and clip attached to the stall and stretched to grab the chain around the cow’s neck. It tossed its head and strands of slobber slung over my sweatshirt sleeve.
With a shriek I dropped the chain. “Ga-ross!”
Again I stretched out a hand. As I ducked and grabbed, the cow lowered its head for a bite of the smelly green stuff Dad called silage. Its snotty nose hit me full in the forehead and left a trail of slime.
Gagging, I ran for the sink in the milk house lean-to and scrubbed my forehead until it stung. I stood there a minute, trying to gather courage, before I went back to chain the monster.
I circled it, eyeing its chewing mouth and the bony knob between its ears. What if it attacked? I’d heard that bulls hated the color red. Cows and bulls were pretty much the same thing and here I was in my Coca-Cola sweatshirt.
A muffled chuckle came from behind me and I snapped my head around. Dad stood over by the bales in the corner, sputtering with laughter. He turned away but I could still see his shoulders shaking.
“Da-ad” I wailed. “I can’t tie this horrid thing up.”
I stomped my foot but my rubber boot slap-slapped in a silly way. Dad came over, turned his back to the cow’s head, leaned into its neck, and clicked the chain into place. Easy as milk on cereal. Still chuckling.
“I can’t do it,” I said. “They stink. And I’m scared. I never wanted any of this.”
“They can’t do anything to you if you stay up by their heads.” Dad had tied up five cows already.
“It was going to bite me.” Tears stung my eyes.
“They don’t bite. They’d much rather eat grass.” He grabbed the closest cow by the nose and gently squeezed its mouth open. A long pink-and-black tongue curled out and saliva hung in strings. “Look.”
I looked but I didn’t go closer. Sure enough, the short teeth were wide and dull, perfect for chewing grass.
“She can’t bite you.” Dad released the cow’s head. “Now, go on and tie up the rest.”
He didn’t stay to watch. The cows tossed their heads and evaded my efforts. I gritted my teeth and reached for the next cow’s chain, trying to remember how Dad had done it. Its skin felt thick and loose beneath my hand, the short hairs like coarse velvet. Hands trembling, I went on to the next. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so clumsy.
With a shriek I dropped the chain. “Ga-ross!”
Again I stretched out a hand. As I ducked and grabbed, the cow lowered its head for a bite of the smelly green stuff Dad called silage. Its snotty nose hit me full in the forehead and left a trail of slime.
Gagging, I ran for the sink in the milk house lean-to and scrubbed my forehead until it stung. I stood there a minute, trying to gather courage, before I went back to chain the monster.
I circled it, eyeing its chewing mouth and the bony knob between its ears. What if it attacked? I’d heard that bulls hated the color red. Cows and bulls were pretty much the same thing and here I was in my Coca-Cola sweatshirt.
A muffled chuckle came from behind me and I snapped my head around. Dad stood over by the bales in the corner, sputtering with laughter. He turned away but I could still see his shoulders shaking.
“Da-ad” I wailed. “I can’t tie this horrid thing up.”
I stomped my foot but my rubber boot slap-slapped in a silly way. Dad came over, turned his back to the cow’s head, leaned into its neck, and clicked the chain into place. Easy as milk on cereal. Still chuckling.
“I can’t do it,” I said. “They stink. And I’m scared. I never wanted any of this.”
“They can’t do anything to you if you stay up by their heads.” Dad had tied up five cows already.
“It was going to bite me.” Tears stung my eyes.
“They don’t bite. They’d much rather eat grass.” He grabbed the closest cow by the nose and gently squeezed its mouth open. A long pink-and-black tongue curled out and saliva hung in strings. “Look.”
I looked but I didn’t go closer. Sure enough, the short teeth were wide and dull, perfect for chewing grass.
“She can’t bite you.” Dad released the cow’s head. “Now, go on and tie up the rest.”
He didn’t stay to watch. The cows tossed their heads and evaded my efforts. I gritted my teeth and reached for the next cow’s chain, trying to remember how Dad had done it. Its skin felt thick and loose beneath my hand, the short hairs like coarse velvet. Hands trembling, I went on to the next. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so clumsy.
Photo by Katie Troyer, courtesy of http://pinecraftsarasota.home.blog