Adventures with Waffles
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Lena is Trille’s best friend, even if she is a girl. And there is never an ordinary day when you’ve got a best friend like Lena.
Hardly a day passes without Trille and Lena inventing some kind of adventure that often ends in trouble. Whether it’s coaxing a cow onto a boat or sledding down the steepest and iciest hill with a chicken, there is always a thrill—and sometimes an injury—to be had. Trille loves to share everything with Lena, even Auntie Granny’s waffles. But when Lena has to move away and Auntie Granny leaves the world, it sometimes seems like nothing will ever be right again. The warmth of friendship and the support of family suffuse this lightly illustrated novel, proving that when times are tough, a little taste of sweetness can make all the difference.
her eyes and looked at Grandpa as if she didn’t recognize him. Then she groaned some more. “There, there,” said Grandpa. “Let’s get you to the doctor. And you, Trille, my lad, you can stop crying. She’s OK.” Lena half stood up. “No, just keep on crying, Trille, you smoked haddock! You row like an idiot!” I had never been so happy to hear someone say something so mean to me. Lena was all right; she’d only gotten a medium whack to her head. But then Lena realized that her forehead was bleeding,
whole family was there, minus Krølla. So were Lena and her mom, and Uncle Tor. Dad, wearing his cap, with his backpack on his back, asked if everyone was ready. As we set off up the slopes, Lena and I were able to wave to Grandpa and Auntie Granny and Krølla, instead of standing down there waving up, as we had always done before. Although Lena had never waved up at anyone. She always sat with her back turned when the others went to round up the sheep, as sour as an unripe stalk of rhubarb. It
the fields. When it’s not windy, the sea looks like an enormous puddle. If you look carefully, you notice that the sea is a different shade of blue each day. I always look for Grandpa’s boat too. He gets up at five o’clock every morning to go fishing. Above our houses there’s the main road, and above the main road there are slopes to go sledding or skiing on in winter. Once, Lena and I made a ramp so that Lena could try jumping over the main road on her sled. She landed right in the middle of
principals or whoever. So it was better to put up her ad at the general store, where she knew who would be shopping. “You write it, Trille. You’ve got such good handwriting,” she said when she’d been into the shop to fetch a pen and paper. One of her pigtails was hanging off to the side at a funny angle, but she looked very determined. I felt very skeptical. “What should we write, then?” Lena lay down on the wooden table outside the shop and started thinking so hard that I could almost hear
single piece of furniture we have. Krølla, who was standing guard, kept shouting that the thieves were coming. Then she would almost scream with laughter when we pretended to shoot out the window, especially when Grandpa used the rolling pin as a bazooka. “Choral festival is the best,” I said to Lena, but Lena said it would be even more fun if someone really did try to break in. Then Grandpa suggested inviting Auntie Granny over for a cup of coffee. “She’s here! The old pirate queen,”