TITLE: The Actual and Truthful Adventures of Becky Thatcher
GENRE: MG Retelling (of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer)
By the time I crept back home and lifted the side window, Mama was in her armchair snoring. Good God in Heaven, Joseph and Mary, and all six or seven disciples, too—her growling and nose whistling was like a mix between a steamboat and a tea kettle. Grateful for the noise, I slipped inside and tippy-toed around the corner, down the hall, and up the steps. It wasn’t until I reached my room and closed the door, quiet as a tinkle in the woods, that I saw him.
Judge Thatcher, as I had to call him when I got into mischief, was sitting on my bed with his arms crossed. In one hand was his fancy pocket watch, the one he used in court matters. About the size of a baby’s palm, it was always shiny and always wound and always exactly on time. He called it Old Reliable. Me and Old Reliable weren’t on friendly terms.
“It’s past ten o’clock, Becky,” he said, snapping the watch shut. He caught sight of my clothing—Jon’s old clothing, that is. I saw him soften and then go to a sad place before he recovered himself. “Mighty late, considering you said your goodnights nearly two hours ago.”
“Oh, is it late?” I asked. “Well, I guess I’ll get to bed.” I yawned real big. “Judge, I’ll have to ask you to excuse yourself. I’m getting mighty big to have my Daddy in my room when I put on a nightgown.”