The priest stares at me for a moment, considering my request.
I want to say “it’s the least you can do after you ate all our cake and got me in trouble and didn’t help matters out, not one bit,” but I just stare at him, squinting my eyes, chin up like my nana does when she means business.
“Okay, Aislinn,” he says, “but make it brief, please.”
“Sure, Father, no problem. I only have one thing.”
When the time is right, Father Reilly nods at me.
I stick my dream on my sleeve and go.
Crossing the white marble altar, I stand at the podium as tall as I can make myself and pull the microphone down closer to my mouth. My feet are cold. My hands are trembling. Seeing all those people staring up at me, I feel light-headed and woozy. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I gulp.
Father Reilly clears his throat like, “it’s okay, go ahead.”
I search out my mother’s face. Our eyes lock. I am okay. She believes in me.
“My name is Aislinn, old Irish for ‘dream.’ I want to be a teacher someday. I think maybe every person comes born with one important thing to teach. This is mine.
“If you have a dream, you should wear it on your sleeve, right out where everyone can see it. I call this idea Dreamsleeves.
“I think it’s wrong to keep our dreams hidden. We write them in diaries or on slips of paper in a box where no one else can see.
“We need other people to help make our dreams come true.
“But how can people help if they don’t know what we want?
“Just think if maybe the person you shook hands with during the Sign of Peace, or the person you’ll pass in the parking lot, or a friend you’ve known for years but haven’t shared your secret with” — I search and find Maria Carroll’s face — “who knows but maybe that person might be the exact perfect one who can help you make your wish come true.
“Imagine if your dream was right on your sleeve. It would be so easy then, right?”
The church is silent. You aren’t supposed to talk.
“I will be at the back of church today with dream-tag labels for anyone who wants one. They are free, my gift to you. You can get more at Woolworth’s.”
My body’s rumbling like Niagara Falls. I wobbly-walk across the altar and down the steps, pausing to bow my head before returning to my seat.
B, C, and D clap for me.
Mom runs her finger across the words on my sleeve. Teach How to Dream.
“You do, A,” she says, “you do.”
Tears are rolling down my father’s face.
He looks at me, really looks at me, and I smile, really smile at him.
The old man in the brown suit with the seagull feather in his hat is the first one in line for a label. Many others follow.
Maria Carroll swoops me up in a hug. “I’m so proud of you I could scream!”
When we get home from church, I stay back as my family heads up the side of the house. I kneel down, wipe the dirt from that one basement window, and look in.
There’s the bar I sat propped on the night I was a princess.
I stand and turn and run.
I run down the front steps, down the street to the concrete wall by the bridge. I slip through the opening, I knew I could, down a pathway someone made through the weeds, I wonder who cleared this, across the asphalt pavement, traffic rumbling by on the bridge high above me, across the railroad tracks, more pavement, weeds, rushes, and rocks, and then I’m right by it.
The river.
I squat down, lean over, and stick my hand in the water.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
— MAX EHRMANN
Nana comes home. We keep our tradition. I buy loafers you can stick pennies in. While we’re waiting for our tuna fish sandwiches in our booth at Manory’s, I tell her about Dreamsleeves, just the idea, I don’t tell her about standing up and talking from the pulpit. She’d probably say that was too bold, sacrilegious even, and then say, “I hope you were wearing a hat at least.”
I don’t tell Nana, but I bet I get my courage from her. You must have to be pretty bold to be the first ever woman leader of the workers’ union.
“I was wondering how you were spending your time,” Nana says. “My flowers looked like they haven’t seen a hose in weeks.”
“Oh, Nana, come on. I watered them. They just missed you. Everybody knows you’re the real gardener in the family.”
On the day of the Town Picnic, I help my mom pack sandwiches and salads and sodas and we all go to Frear Park for the day.
Beck takes his bat and ball. Dooley’s got his cars.
“Bring your guitar, A,” Callie says. I pack some bubbles, too.
Dad takes Mom’s arm to walk her down to the car. Her belly’s as big as a mountain now.
The park is filled with families at tables and on blankets with picnic baskets and coolers, radios playing, smoke rising from grills, a badminton game, volleyball, college kids tossing a Frisbee. Up on the hill, there’s a boy trying to fly a kite. Two little girls, Callie’s age, run out from under the sprinklers holding hands, giggling, dripping wet.
“Let’s try to find a spot in the shade,” Mom says.
Maria Carroll stands and waves to us from inside the pavilion. “Aislinn!” she calls, “Maggie! Over here. We’ve got room.”
When I reach Maria, she points toward the next picnic table over. “Look!”
It’s the old man from church in his brown suit and feathered hat who was first in line for a Dreamsleeve label.
He sees me and stands, comes to shake my hand. “I’m Patrick Leary,” he says. “I was a friend of your grandfather’s. He was a good man.”
Mr. Leary touches his Dreamsleeve. It reads Meet my grandchildren.
The two little girls I saw giggling out under the sprinklers come running in and pull on his leg. “Come on, Grandpa. Come watch us!”
He looks at me with tears in his eyes. “You gave me the courage,” he says.
“For what?” I say.
“To tell my daughter I was sorry and get my family back again.”
“And look, A,” Maria says, pulling my arm. “There’s another person wearing a label over there, and look, two tables back, see?”
People wearing dreams on their sleeves. I can’t wait to read them.
A cry catches in my throat. I gulp. My eyes fill with tears.
Maria hugs me. “You started something good here, A. I knew it was a big idea.”
My family comes up behind us. Maria shows them what we’re looking at.
“I told you Dreamsleeves was catchy,” Mom says.
“We tried it first,” Callie brags.
“No … you were second,” Beck says.
“O … kay,” Callie says, rolling her eyes.
“I got my red car with it,” Dooley says.
From Santa Mike. I smile, wishing he was here.
“Dreamsleeves, you call it, right?” a lady standing by us says.
“It’s my daughter’s idea,” Dad says, nodding proudly. “That’s my daughter.”
It was a nice nearly-end-of-summer day.
Mike wasn’t at the park, but I’ll see him soon enough.
School starts next week.
Hopefully, this is also the start of happier days for me and my family, filled with rainbows and pots of gold and that house with the apple trees.
And no more drinking, no more tempers, no more being scared.
I learned a lot this summer. I know I cannot control any of that.
What I do know is this:
I know how to dream.
And because of that,
I, Aislinn, aka “Dream” O’Neill,
will always and forever be
free.
With thanks, first and f
oremost, to my mother, Peg Spain Murtagh, who always makes me feel like I can accomplish every dream I dream.
To my brother, Jerry Murtagh, whose face lit with excitement when I told him about the Dreamsleeves idea. Such enthusiasm is a rare and priceless gift.
To my sister, Noreen Mahoney, who listened to all my fledging stories back when I was desperately trying to get published and who somehow always found a way to be encouraging. Thank you for believing in me, Nor.
To my agent, Tracey Adams, who knew I was ready to write this book, and supported me every step of the way.
To my editor, Jennifer Rees, who loved the idea from the start and then challenged me to take it further. Your mark is on this one, Jen. And to David Levithan and Elizabeth Parisi and all of the fabulously talented people at Scholastic Press, Scholastic Book Clubs, and Book Fairs.
To my seventh-grade friends Joan Garbowski, Marie Hogan, Christine Casey, Mary Madden, Theresa Maloney, Joanne Fin, and Mary Hennessy.
To fellow writer and kindred spirit Sara Webb Quest for a particularly nourishing conversation about this story as we walked “the Spit” on Popponesset Beach, Cape Cod.
Always and forever to my beautiful, smart, and huge-hearted sons Dylan, Connor, and Christopher Murtagh Paratore. You are this mother’s dream come true.
And to you, my loyal readers. May you close this book inspired to open something new and wonderful in your life.
Dream Big.
If you can dream it, you can do it, wear it on your sleeve and believe. I’ll be rooting for you!!
Coleen
PRAISE
“Put your dreams on your sleeves, and this book in your heart. Honest and uplifting, Dreamsleeves shows that while life isn’t perfect, it can get better with imagination, hope and, ultimately, the courage to make a change.”
— Jennifer Roy, author of Cordially Uninvited and Yellow Star
“The courage and capacity to keep dreaming, even in the face of serious family problems, makes Aislinn a heroine we all root for.”
— Meg Seinberg-Hughes, librarian
“I was immediately struck by the emotional depth and the great heart of this sensitively portrayed and multi-layered story. Dreamsleeves is definitely one of my top picks for the year!”
— Rachel King, Little Book House
“A page turner I couldn’t put down. I needed to see if Aislinn’s dreams would come true…. Isn’t that what we all wish for?”
— Debbie Dermady, fifth-grade teacher
“Coleen Murtagh Paratore has given readers a reason to wear their dreams on their sleeves. After reading Dreamsleeves, you’ll believe in the power of dreams, too.”
— Joyce R. Laiosa, librarian
“Dreamsleeves is empowering and taught me to believe in my dreams! Filled with suspense, romance, inspiration, and a whole lot of love, I never wanted to put the book down.”
— Stefanie, age 15
“Coleen Paratore’s finest work yet. While the book is written for young readers, it’s meant for dreamers of all ages. Keep a tissue handy, you might shed a tear or two. I did.”
— Stanley Hadsell, Market Block Books
“I loved getting to know sweet, unselfish Aislinn, and dreaming that she’d overcome her very real challenges. Readers will cheer as ‘A’ finds a creative, literary way to make her dreams and those of others become realities.”
— Janice Toomajian, librarian
“This book had me yearning for childhood, for that resilient, impermeable hopefulness….”
— Peter Marino, author of Dough Boy and Magic and Misery
“In the midst of dealing with adult-sized difficulties in her life, Aislinn, through Coleen’s beautiful storytelling, manages to keep the essentials of youth—hope and wonder — alive.”
— Marisa Geraghty, Barnes & Noble Booksellers
“True-to-life and heartbreaking. I was cheering for Aislinn to get every dream she pins on her sleeve!”
— Lisa Lehman, librarian
“This sometimes heart wrenching story is crafted by Paratore with tenderness and wisdom. We never stop hoping and believing that ‘A’ will surely prevail. Despite her harsh reality, she bubbles and sparkles with the joy of life.”
— Robert Whiteman, teacher
“Coleen Murtagh Paratore gives readers, both young and old, the inspiration to not only dream big, but to know that anything and everything is possible so long as they have the courage to ‘wear their dreams on their sleeves.’”
—Jamie L. Gillham, school library media specialist
“I am in love with Coleen’s books! The idea of the Dreamsleeves is a great one and I plan to try it out! I think that both boys and girls will want to read this book.”
— Colie, age 12
“Aislinn’s genuine voice authentically captures her pressures and her stresses, the period and the setting, and her resistance and resilience.”
— Starr LaTronica, librarian
“In Dreamsleeves, readers are treated to another page-turner by today’s fairy godmother for the young, author Coleen Murtagh Paratore, but in this one, they’ll find answers to tough, life issues.”
— Sara Webb Quest, author of Moving Back to Normal
“Readers will be cheering for the spunky Aislinn as she navigates her way through the ups and downs of life with her big Irish family, learns about friendship and first love, and deals with life’s really tough problems. Readers will hear her voice long after they turn the last page of this poignant and powerful novel.”
— Gail King, librarian
“Hopeful and uplifting. Aislinn does not sacrifice herself or her dreams, and that’s what makes the ending especially satisfying.”
— Rondi Brower, Blackwood & Brouwer Booksellers Ltd.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COLEEN MURTAGH PARATORE, a popular school visit presenter and inspirational speaker, is the author of The Wedding Planner’s Daughter series, which includes most recently From Willa, With Love; Forget Me Not; and Wish I Might, as well as Sunny Holiday and Sweet and Sunny. The mother of three sons, she lives in upstate New York and on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Visit Coleen online at www.coleenparatore.com.
ALSO BY COLEEN MURTAGH PARATORE
THE “WILLA” BOOKS…
The Wedding Planner’s Daughter
The Cupid Chronicles
Willa by Heart
Forget Me Not
Wish I Might
From Willa, With Love
THE “SUNNY” BOOKS…
Sunny Holiday
Sweet and Sunny
OTHER NOVELS…
Mack McGinn’s Big Win
A Pearl Among Princes
The Funeral Director’s Son
Kip Campbell’s Gift
PICTURE BOOKS…
Catching the Sun
26 Big Things Small Hands Do
How Prudence Proovit Proved the Truth About Fairy Tales
Copyright © 2012 by Coleen Murtagh Paratore
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Paratore, Coleen, 1958–
Dreamsleeves / by Coleen Murtagh Paratore. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: During a momentous summer, twelve-year-old Aislinn’s dreams include that her father will stop drinking and give her more freedom, that her fifth sibling will be born safely, that she will not lose her best friend or her potential boyfriend, and that she can teach members of her community both to express their dreams and to help others’ dreams come true.[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Family life—New York (State)—Fiction. 3. Alcoholism—Fiction. 4. Hope—Fiction. 5. Catholics—Fiction. 6. Troy (N.Y.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.P2137 Dre 2012
[Fic]—dc22 2011003769
First e
dition, April 2012
e-ISBN: 978-0-545-39245-7
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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