CHAPTER 1
hen he was six years old, a mere child, he was known as Jacob Two-Two. He was given the name because he was two plus two plus two years old. He had two ears and two eyes and two feet and two shoes. He also had two older brothers, Daniel and Noah, and two older sisters, Emma and Marfa. But most of all, he was given the name because, as Jacob Two-Two himself once admitted, “I am the littlest in our family. Nobody hears what I say the first time. They only pay attention if I say things two times.”
But now that he was eight years old he felt that he was too grown up to go by such a childish name. All the same, it stuck to him. After all, he still had two older brothers and two older sisters. And, as they were quick to point out, if he had once been two plus two plus two years old, he was now – come to think of it – only two times two times two years old. Not much of a difference, they said, but they really didn’t understand.
Jacob Two-Two had learned a good deal since he had been a mere six years old. He could now dial a telephone number, do joined-up writing of a sort, and catch a ball, providing Noah wasn’t aiming it bang at his head. True, his two older brothers and his two older sisters were still taller and much more capable than he was. And snootier than ever, it sometimes seemed to him.
Marfa, for instance, who was only four years older than Jacob Two-Two, no longer allowed him into the bathroom with her. “I know you’re too young and stupid to understand,” she said, “but it just isn’t right for you to take a shower with me anymore.”
Even so, some things were looking up. Jacob Two-Two could now cut a slice of bread that wasn’t a footthick on one end and thin as a sheet of paper on the other – unless Emma gave him a poke at just the right moment and then squealed, “Oh, Mummy, I don’t want to make any trouble, but look what the baby of the family just did to the last loaf of bread in the house.”
School was also a problem. A big problem.
When Jacob Two-Two had been a mere six years old, the family had lived in a big rambling old house on Kingston Hill in England. A year later his father had moved them all to Montreal, Canada, where he had come from in the first place. This was a great hardship for Jacob Two-Two, because the kids at his new school in Montreal poked fun at his British accent. The trouble-maker-in-chief was fat Freddy Jackson. He would gather together a bunch of the other kids and then corner Jacob Two-Two in the schoolyard. “Hey, Jacob,” he’d say, “what does your father put in his car to make it run?”
“Petrol,” Jacob Two-Two would reply. “Petrol.” Because when he was nervous or excited he still said many things two times.
“That’s what they call gasoline over in stinky old England,” Freddy would explain, even as the otherkids had begun to giggle. Then, turning to Jacob Two-Two again, he would ask, “And what are we standing on right now?”
“The grahs.”
Soon enough, however, Jacob Two-Two learned to say “gasoline” when what he really meant was “petrol.” Practicing in front of a mirror, he even taught himself to say “grass” instead of “grahs.”
Unfortunately, everybody in the family picked on Jacob Two-Two too. If, for instance, he came home from school in a cheerful mood and called out, “Am I ever starved! What’s for dinner?” Noah was bound to leap up, make a frightening face, and say “Dead cow.”
Once he came home from school and asked his father for a measly dollar so that he could go to the movies on Saturday morning. Noah, as usual, had to put in his two cents. “You can’t give the child a dollar just like that,” he said. “It would be spoiling him.” (But Noah wasn’t all bad. He often allowed Jacob Two-Two to tag along with him on his newspaper route. In fact, he actually allowed Jacob Two-Two to deliver the newspaper himself to any house with a sign that warned BEWARE OF THE DOG .)
“Your
hen he was six years old, a mere child, he was known as Jacob Two-Two. He was given the name because he was two plus two plus two years old. He had two ears and two eyes and two feet and two shoes. He also had two older brothers, Daniel and Noah, and two older sisters, Emma and Marfa. But most of all, he was given the name because, as Jacob Two-Two himself once admitted, “I am the littlest in our family. Nobody hears what I say the first time. They only pay attention if I say things two times.”
But now that he was eight years old he felt that he was too grown up to go by such a childish name. All the same, it stuck to him. After all, he still had two older brothers and two older sisters. And, as they were quick to point out, if he had once been two plus two plus two years old, he was now – come to think of it – only two times two times two years old. Not much of a difference, they said, but they really didn’t understand.
Jacob Two-Two had learned a good deal since he had been a mere six years old. He could now dial a telephone number, do joined-up writing of a sort, and catch a ball, providing Noah wasn’t aiming it bang at his head. True, his two older brothers and his two older sisters were still taller and much more capable than he was. And snootier than ever, it sometimes seemed to him.
Marfa, for instance, who was only four years older than Jacob Two-Two, no longer allowed him into the bathroom with her. “I know you’re too young and stupid to understand,” she said, “but it just isn’t right for you to take a shower with me anymore.”
Even so, some things were looking up. Jacob Two-Two could now cut a slice of bread that wasn’t a footthick on one end and thin as a sheet of paper on the other – unless Emma gave him a poke at just the right moment and then squealed, “Oh, Mummy, I don’t want to make any trouble, but look what the baby of the family just did to the last loaf of bread in the house.”
School was also a problem. A big problem.
When Jacob Two-Two had been a mere six years old, the family had lived in a big rambling old house on Kingston Hill in England. A year later his father had moved them all to Montreal, Canada, where he had come from in the first place. This was a great hardship for Jacob Two-Two, because the kids at his new school in Montreal poked fun at his British accent. The trouble-maker-in-chief was fat Freddy Jackson. He would gather together a bunch of the other kids and then corner Jacob Two-Two in the schoolyard. “Hey, Jacob,” he’d say, “what does your father put in his car to make it run?”
“Petrol,” Jacob Two-Two would reply. “Petrol.” Because when he was nervous or excited he still said many things two times.
“That’s what they call gasoline over in stinky old England,” Freddy would explain, even as the otherkids had begun to giggle. Then, turning to Jacob Two-Two again, he would ask, “And what are we standing on right now?”
“The grahs.”
Soon enough, however, Jacob Two-Two learned to say “gasoline” when what he really meant was “petrol.” Practicing in front of a mirror, he even taught himself to say “grass” instead of “grahs.”
Unfortunately, everybody in the family picked on Jacob Two-Two too. If, for instance, he came home from school in a cheerful mood and called out, “Am I ever starved! What’s for dinner?” Noah was bound to leap up, make a frightening face, and say “Dead cow.”
Once he came home from school and asked his father for a measly dollar so that he could go to the movies on Saturday morning. Noah, as usual, had to put in his two cents. “You can’t give the child a dollar just like that,” he said. “It would be spoiling him.” (But Noah wasn’t all bad. He often allowed Jacob Two-Two to tag along with him on his newspaper route. In fact, he actually allowed Jacob Two-Two to deliver the newspaper himself to any house with a sign that warned BEWARE OF THE DOG .)
“Your
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