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© 2008 Teresa Funke
Books - Doing My Part
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Based on a true story . . . Until World War II came along, fourteen-year-old Helen Marshall's biggest problem had been her height. Few men in Hayden's Valley, Illinois are as tall as Helen. But when Helen's mother is hurt and can't work and her favorite cousin ships off to fight, Helen must find a way to support both her family and her country. Along with her best friend, Janie, she takes a summer job at a war factory and discovers that not everyone welcomes her enthusiasm.
Determined to prove she can handle her new responsibilities, Helen must confront a lazy boss, two older women who try to slow down her work, and townspeople who gang up on one of their own. But when she answers the eerie cries of her mysterious German neighbor, Mrs. Osthoff, Helen learns the true sacrifice of war. And when she keeps a secret for a friend, she realizes that grown-up decisions sometimes have life-or-death consequences.
Readers, don't miss the last few pages to learn more about the real Helen Marshall!
Chapter Excerpts
Chapter 1The 4:30 Train
The sun's not up yet, my breakfast hasn't settled, and already I'm running. Janie's falling farther behind. "Hurry up," I yell, but rushing Janie only makes her slip more on the dew-wet grass, which starts her giggling. Janie doesn't care if we miss the train to work, but I do. I need this job. I can hear the train whistle echoing down the valley and it makes me want to sprint the last stretch to the depot. But Janie drops her lunch sack and laughs all the harder.
"Oh come on, Janie. It's not funny."
"It is to me, Helen."
"Everything's funny to you. The way you act, no one would know there's a war on."
She's making a face at me—I know it—but it's too dark to see which one.
"And how do you expect me to keep up with those long legs of yours, anyway?"
I cringe. My legs are longer than any girl's in Hayden's Valley. In fact, there's hardly a man in the state of Illinois taller than me, and I'm only fourteen. Every night I pray that I'm done growing. I can't stand the thought of dancing with a man shorter than me, and I won't marry a man who can't dance. Thinking such thoughts slows my pace, and Janie catches up to me easily.
"Oh quit your brooding." She nudges me gently with her shoulder. "There are worse things in life than being tall. At least you don't still have freckles." She locks arms with me, and we walk together along the railroad tracks.
Janie Brey's a grade above me in school. She's been my best friend since Mother and I moved here to live with my grandparents after my dad died. She's the one who talked me into applying for work at the Westclox factory ten miles away in the town of Peru. Before the war, Westclox was famous for its alarm clocks and watches. Now it's a war plant. Janie wanted to do her part for the war effort, and she wanted me to come with her. I didn't think they'd hire me because I'm too young, but the supervisor took one look at my height and didn't notice on my application that I won't actually be fifteen until October. At first I was just glad to be with Janie, but now that Mother has been injured and can't work, my family is counting on me to bring home the paycheck.
The whistle blows again, louder this time, but we're not far now. I can smell the earthy scent of the geraniums my grandmother helped plant around the depot. I'm glad the 4:30 train is on time this morning. Yesterday it was more than two hours late, and I grew so impatient I kicked a post, stubbing my toe. Janie offered me no pity. She hates it when I lose my temper. She doesn't understand, though. If we're late to work, they dock our pay. That doesn't matter much to Janie. She'll be spending the money she earns this summer on frivolous things like clothes and hair curlers. I had fun plans for my money too. I've had my heart set on a plaid wool jacket and matching skirt I saw in the Sears Roebuck catalog. But a few nights ago I overheard Grandpa George, Grandma Kate and Mother discussing Mother's medical bills. They thought I'd gone to bed.
"It's not just the extra bills, Papa," Mother was saying. "We have to fix the roof this fall, and Helen needs new shoes and a good winter coat."
"I could take in some sewing," Grandma Kate offered.
"Oh Mama, you have your hands full around here."
"We expanded the garden this spring, so we should have enough vegetables. I suppose we could even trade a few vegetables for eggs and maybe a little meat," Grandpa George said. "Helen's paycheck should be enough to cover the rest."
"If she makes it through the summer," Mother said.
It stung a little to hear her say that. Of course I'd make it through the summer! But I couldn't fault Mother for wondering. She was worried. For years now, ever since Grandpa's arthritis in his hands has gotten so bad he can't take on handyman jobs anymore, Mother has been supporting our family.
"She'll make it," Grandma Kate said.
Her comment kind of surprised me. Though I know she loves me, Grandma's more likely to lecture than praise. This was as near to a compliment as anything I'd heard from her lately, and it filled me with pride.
"Well, I don't want her knowing any of this. She's too young to have to carry so much responsibility," Mother said.
"She can handle it," Grandpa George replied. And ever since I heard him say it, I've been out to prove I can.
We get to the depot just as the train is arriving. The conductor raises an eyebrow and snaps his pocket watch closed. I wonder if that watch was made at Westclox before the war, and then I remember something I heard once, that railroad men often pass down their timepieces from father to son, generation after generation. I don't know if it's true or not, but I like to think so. I have nothing of my father's except the violin he used to play for me when I was little.
As the train rocks forward, we ease past a rail-thin man in shirtsleeves and suspenders and squeeze up next to the window. We sit real close to each other, making ourselves as small as possible, glad for the skinny man beside us. His size means Janie won't need to sit on my lap this morning. All the passenger trains are crowded these days because there are fewer of them. Many are troop trains now, and regular folk, like my family, are supposed to try not to travel. No one worries about our discomfort so long as the soldiers get where they need to go. Everything we do now is for them. If they don't beat the Germans and the Japanese, we're in a world of trouble. I try not to think about that too much.
Janie cups both hands around my left ear and whispers, "I saw John Beaumont at church last night. Didn't you think he looked dashing in his uniform?"
I roll my eyes. Janie's had a crush on my cousin John since she was ten years old. He joined up in April, the very day he turned eighteen. Several of the senior boys have done that, strutting down to the recruiting station with their parents tagging behind. The parents wait outside—the fathers turning their hats in their hands, the mothers wiping away tears—while their sons enlist. A couple of boys have even signed up at age seventeen with their parents' permission. Mother told Grandma if she had a son, she'd keep her him home as long as possible. I guess maybe those boys just couldn't wait to get into the fight.
"Why is John back?" Janie asks.
"He's home on leave to say good-bye. He finished his training. He'll be shipping out soon to be a flight navigator on an airplane."
"Well, he looked awfully dreamy in his dress uniform."
Janie looks away. I know she's trying to fix that picture of John in her mind so she doesn't forget it. It's early June 1942, and the war has been going on for six months. Our little town hasn't lost a single boy yet. We're all hoping John won't be the first. I try to picture my lanky cousin, who loves comic books and funny radio shows, doing anything as serious as helping fly a plane. When he arrived home the other day, he took his new silver wings off his uniform and pinned them on my blouse and said, "Helen, if you were a boy, you could get a pair of these for yourself." I wasn't sure if I wished I was a boy or not.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Janie asks.
"John. I'm wondering if he ever worries about getting killed. You've seen the newsreels, what it looks like when a plane gets hit. How it spins down toward the earth trailing a line of smoke behind it. Don't you think that'd be an awful way to die? Such a long way down."
"You shouldn't think things like that," Janie snaps.
She's right, of course, but how can I help it? I wonder if John thinks those thoughts. If he worries about dying. He doesn't seem to. He seems excited to leave, like this is all one big adventure. But that's just John. Everything is a game to him, and he always wins at games.
I take Janie's hand and squeeze it. "Don't worry. John was the toughest kid in school and the smartest. He can take care of himself." When I say it, I really believe it. I can see by the look in Janie's hazel-yellow eyes that she's trying to believe it too.
The sun is coming up and its rays are working their way through the dirty window. The humidity is rising, and it's getting stuffy in the train. The woman across from us has her chin tilted up and is fanning her neck with a copy of Ladies' Home Journal. I wish I'd thought to bring a magazine too. Then I get an idea that takes my mind off the heat. "Hey, Janie, maybe you should write to John."
Her face brightens. "Should I?"
"Sure."
"It could be like in the movies. I could be the girl he dreams about back home."
"Oh nausea," I say, which starts us both giggling. The skinny man next to us tosses us a disapproving glance, then tips his head back and closes his eyes, pretending we're not there. We lean into each other and laugh even harder as the train rattles on toward Peru.
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Home-Front Heroes Series
Doing My Part is the first in the exciting new middle grade collection Home-Front Heroes.Coming soon! From Teresa R. Funke, the newest Home-Front Hero:
Fourteen-year-old Tai Shimoda's family has lost everything. Like many other Japanese-Americans at the start of World War II, Tai's family has been forced to move to Tule Lake Relocation Center in Northern California. Though he misses his friends back home, Tai does his best to start a new life behind the barbed wire of camp. But in the spring of 1943, tensions at Tule Lake are growing. Tai's older brother has joined a group who has refused to swear allegiance to the United States. They call themselves the No-Nos. Tai's father calls them Disloyals. When the camp begins to split in two, Tai must decide what he believes. Will he join his beloved brother and the No-Nos or, like his father, remain true to America?