About Logan

Logan C. Dias is a ninth grader at Prior Lake High School. He lives in Savage, Minnesota, and is the author's grandson. His interests include creating video games, playing guitar, art and swimming, He aspires to work for Nintendo or Sega after college. He's a fan of the Minnesota Vikings and Brett Favre. Logan has illustrated all of the author's books. 

Excerpt

With her stooped shoulders and slow measured step, it would seem that at least eighty summers and winters had come and gone.  In real time she was but seventy-two, but life had dealt her the short straw and once again it was winter.

Winters were the worst, for the days were short and the skies gray.  Tillie reached up a spidery hand to jerk at wispy strands of hair that splayed out from under her hat brim.

In one arm, she clutched a ragged teddy bear and a faded quilt that had been baptized on many a Monday washday. As she struggled with the out-of sequence button near the collar of her heavy coat, the anxiety began to build.

An old woman stared with vacant eyes as they passed in the hall. Her appearance was bedraggled, and the outlandish hat she wore invariably dated back to the '40s.

"Stop looking at me," said Tillie.

Her gaze shifted to the middle-aged matron who marched resolutely ahead. The suitcase she carried was tattered and minus one clasp. Who was she and why had she brought her to this dreary place? Mama always said she would ship me off to boarding school if I didn't behave....

"Matilda Jane Steven! Come here this instant!"

Tillie had known she was in trouble again. What was it this time? Had she left the gate open to the calf pen? Neglected to feed the chickens? Forgotten to gather the eggs? She wracked her memory as she reviewed the day to see what could have so disturbed her mother.

"Ma-til-daaa."

With the summons repeated, Tillie finger-checked the page in her book and unfolded herself from her favorite perch in the orchard. She continued to read as she slowly made her way to the house.

Tillie neared the porch where her mother stood, arms akimbo. Reluctantly, she closed the book.

"Matilda Stevens. I declare, this family would be better off if we'd shipped you off to boarding school as the aunts suggested. At least, there you'd have learned some responsibility. The good Lord knows I've tried and failed.

"I have searched high and low for you. I send you to gather the eggs so I can mix this angel food cake and you disappear off the face of the earth." Red faced, she paused for a breath and then continued.

"I've had to leave your baby brother alone in the house while I went for the eggs - and he's gotten into the pantry while I was out."

Bertie Stevens reached for Tillie's book. Tillie was faster and swung the book behind her defensively. Mother continued to hold out her hand with that look in her eye. Tillie slowly brought her hand back around, released her treasure and followed mother into the kitchen.

"Just look at this mess."

With a sweep of her hand, mother indicated the kitchen floor covered in flour, corn flakes, rice and other unidentifiable items. Three-year-old Andy, strapped into his high chair as a temporary restraint, greeted his older sister with an angelic smile.

"I'll thank you to get the broom and get started," said mother.

"I didn't make the mess." Tillie's tone was more that a little rebellious. "Why should I have to clean it up?"

"If you had done your chores..." said mother. She halted mid-sentence then changed tactics. "Just do as you're told if you know what's good for you."

Tillie knew when capitulation was the better part and moved to retrieve the broom from its closet. She did manage to throw a dagger look at Andy who was covered in debris from his escapade.

"Tillie sweep," said Andy. He clapped his hands and favored her with yet another cherubic smile.

Being ten certainly had its drawbacks. With it had come added responsibilities and less time to read and/or dream.

When I grow up....

Reader Comments

"... the content of your book will not make readers happy.  Instead it will make them think, it will make them search their own feelings. It's a provocative book rather than an evocative book; it does not evoke happiness, it provokes thoughtfulness."  - Phil

"... It was hard for me to put it down - no trouble staying awake to read it like some ancient histories! It touched on too many of the problems of our acquaintances to feel any irrelevance." - Roy

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