“We spoke of how to say good-bye,” Jem said. “When Jonathan bid farewell to David, he said, ‘Go in peace, for as much as we have sworn, both of us, saying the Lord be between me and thee, forever.’ They did not see each other again, but they did not forget. So it will be with us. When I am Brother Zachariah, when I no longer see the world with my human eyes, I will still be in some part the Jem you knew, and I will see you with the eyes of my heart.”
“Wo men shi sheng si ji jiao,” said Will, and he saw Jem’s eyes widen, fractionally, and the spark of amusement inside them. “Go in peace, James Carstairs.”
A: Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery B: Black Beauty, Anna Sewell C: Carry On, Rainbow Rowell D: The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. LeGuin E: The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje F: Circle of Friends, Maeve Binchy G: Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers H: Hamlet, Shakespeare I: Into Thin Air, Jon Krakauer J: The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan K: The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley L: Little Women, Louisa May Alcott M: My Lady Jane, Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, Jodi Meadows N: The Naming, Alison Croggon O: Among Others, Jo Walton P: A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver, E.L. Konigsburg Q: Eleanor of Aquitaine, Alison Weir R: Rebecca, Daphne Du Maurier S: The Peabody Sisters, Megan Marshall T: The Time Traveler’s Wife, Audrey Niffenegger U: An Unnecessary Woman, Rabih Alameddine V: Code Name Verity, Elizabeth Wein W: The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame X: Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides Y: Possession, A.S. Byatt Z: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling
Ohoh how about a grown up bughead featuring a pregnancy maybe?? (Up to you whether it's planned or unplanned 😉)
Aww baby bughead! This ones a little tricky but I’ll give it a go!
What was he gonna say? Would he be angry? Happy? Maybe just disappointed. This wasn’t in the plan, and it sure wasn’t something she knew how to explain.
She was going to have a baby.
Oh god, she was gonna be sick.
Leaning back from the toilet bowl, she rested her head on the cool marble of the bathroom floor.
Could she even take care of a baby right now? Sure she had a good job that provided her with plenty of benefits, and jugheads latest novel had made them more money than they knew what to do with, but this was another life. Another person.
Closing her eyes, she pictured a tiny dark haired little boy, with her own sea green eyes and jugheads signature half smirk.
She couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Jughead changing a diaper, or feeding him a bottle.
And what about his first book? What would they read the little baby? Goodnight moon was her favorite childrens book and she could easily picture rocking her son and reading him all kinds of stories.
But what if it was a girl, a beautiful little girl with raven locks and Betty’s dimples. She would no doubt be a daddy’s girl, Jughead was so patient with Betty, she could see him spoiling his little girl.
This was all if he chose to stay with her. They had just gotten married last year. It was too soon. He could easily pack his bags, wish her luck and head out the front door.
No. that wasn’t him. She felt bad for thinking such horrible things about him, but then again could she ruin his life like this?
A baby would change everything, he was an accomplished author, his life was just starting wouldn’t a baby ruin it?
Suddenly their was a knock on the bathroom door
“Love? Are you okay in there? I’m coming in.”
She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, apparently not fast enough because when he saw her watery eyes, he was on the floor in a second flat.
“Betty? What’s the matter are you sick? What did the doctor say?” He was eyeing her up and down assessing any damage.
She shook her head
“I’m not sick, well I am. But it’s a normal sick.”
She explained in a whisper
“Normal sick? What are you talking about, you can tell me Betty, it’s okay.” She looked up into his eyes, they were panicked, he always went to the worst possible scenario
“Jughead please don’t hate me.”
“What? Baby what are you talking about?”
She took a deep breathe, pulling her knees to her chest
The bathroom went stone quiet.
“Pregnant?” Jughead finally said in a whisper.
“I’m sorry, I know that we were being careful, I don’t know how it happened.”
She was suddenly off the ground and was being swung around as jughead laughed loudly
“A baby we’re having a baby!”
She couldn’t help but laugh along as he slowed down
“You’re not angry?” She questioned meeting his eyes.
“Angry?” He looked painfully confused “no of course not, scared as all hell? Yes but angry no! I’m happy Betty, were having a baby. One of our very own?”
She smiled “one of our very own”
“Oh man think of the inspiration I’m gonna have for my next novel. As long as you don’t let me turn into one of those annoying, tool box having, croc wearing lame dads”
“If you don’t let me turn into one of those bob wearing, pantyhose moms, we have a deal.”
“Deal. We’re gonna be good parents bets, nothing like our own, we’ll learn from each other, and we’ll talk about it , and if it all gets too much we’ll work through it. Because we don’t leave.” He spoke softly into her hair, his hands resting on her stomach
So I recently found out that my pastor’s kids have never read “Where the Sidewalk Ends” and as an adult who is still in love with Shel Silverstein, I obviously had to go out and buy it for them. It came in the mail today and I’m so excited to give it to them on Sunday!
Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day , first published in March 1962, follows a little boy exulting in a big snowfall in New York City. In the words of Jhenelle Robinson, a YA librarian at the New York Public Library’s Morrisiana branch, the beautifully illustrated picture book “captures the wonder and excitement of a fresh snowstorm through the eyes of young Peter.”
Peter (as NPR notes) “was among the first non-caricatured African-Americans to be featured in a major children’s book,” and his story captures a universal moment of joy in his everyday life. Keats went on to win the prestigious Caldecott Medal in 1963.
In the tradition of Keats’ classic, we asked our NYPL experts to recommend children’s books that feature kids and families of color. Here are their favorites.
“He missed his true brothers: little Rickon, bright eyes shining as he begged for a sweet; Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion; Bran, stubborn and curious, always wanting to follow and join in whatever Jon and Robb were doing. He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but ‘my half brother’ since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant. And Arya…he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had…yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.”
“Favorite childrens book?” Y/n asked, taking a forkfull of pork fried rice into her mouth.
“Easy. The Giving Tree, by far. It’s the best childrens book of all time.” Harry answered, wipping his hands with a napkin as he nodded in reassurance.
“See, I disagree.” Y/n stated, gulping down her pork fried rice as she shook her head slowly, “The Giving Tree is thought to be a great book, because it’s one of the very first love stories any human being ever has a chance to hear about. Although, it is not love.”
Harry’s mouth fell open, a playful gasp escaping his lips as he held onto the fabric upon his skin dramaticly, right upon his heart.
“Not love? So you’re sitting here, telling me, that The Giving Tree doesn’t resemble love? Are you human?”
Y/n giggled, giving him a playful push with her shoulder and she wipped her mouth with the side of her wrist.
“Yes, I am telling you that, and yes, I am human.”
Harry sighed, returning his gaze back to the television as he hissed in disappointment, shaking his head. He took a quick look back at Y/n, who was staring at him with a smirk on her face. He looked away immediately, forcing himself to give her the impression that he’s mad at her, even though they both know he isn’t.
“Exaplain to me how it is love then, Harold” Y/n challenged, turning her body fully to his direction.
Harry lifted his arm up in the air, creasing in his eyebrows as if he was clueless to her question.
“I don’t know, maybe because the tree gave the little boy her everything. She was willing to do anything for that boy, anything. Even over the process of like, I don’t know, 60 years of their lives going by and the tree was still giving him all she had. She never gave up on him, ever.”
Y/n put her lips into a line, holding back her laughter as she tried to make serious conversation with him.
“You are such an idiot,” Y/n chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand as she continued to laugh carelessly, “if you think that that’s true love.”
Harry raised his eyebrow, now turning his body completely toward hers, now looking straight at eachother.
“Yeah? And how is it not true love, Miss Y/n?” He asked, spitting out the last few words as is he were disgusted to say it.
Y/n laughed, taking the challenge happily as she stared straight into his eyes.
“The tree giving the boy everything. That’s how it’s not true love. The reason she gave that boy everything was because he was the only thing on this entire planet that had interacted with her. That was the first person to give her all the attention that she wanted, all of the things she had wanted since she was grown into that beautiful looking tree. So, because that boy gave her that attention, that’s when she thought that maybe, just maybe, she loved him enough to sacrifice everything that she had. She gave him her apples, gave him her braches, gave him her leaves, and what did the boy give? He gave nothing. He just took and ran away with it all. No, she didn’t stop giving him all of her because she was so infactuated with him, and how much attention and happiness he had given her. But he didn’t care, did he? He never did, he just took and took and took until there was nothing left of her. How is that true love? It’s not, it’s life, it’s how all life works, and there’s no stop to it.”
There was a silence in the air, and Y/n lifted her feet up to his criss-crossed legs, shaking her feet slowly as she looked at Harry, whom was looking at her with such love. She could feel the tenderness of his eyes carress her face as she admired the way he had looked at her.
She was so alive to him, and he never realized how open she was. He never realized how much she understood what life really was about. She was observant, and so awake to the world that it was something he admired, and something he felt so guilty about, because he had never noticed it before.
“But I would give everything up for you, and I love you. Isn’t that love?” Harry whispered, gliding his fingertips slowly along the underside of her leg.
Y/n smiled, sighing in contentness as she allowed her neck to hang to her back.
She had never heard him say those words, and hearing them now was like a melody. She never thought she would ever be in this position, of truly loving somebody. But she is, and it was something now that she could never get enough of.
“It is. It is love because I would give you the world back, and because I love you, too.”