Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang

CHAPTER 1

nce there was a boy called Jacob Two-Two. He was two plus two plus two years old. He had two ears and two eyes and two arms and two feet and two shoes. He also had two older sisters, Emma and Marfa, and two older brothers, Daniel and Noah. And they all lived in a rambling old house on Kingston Hill in England.

Most days Jacob Two-Two was happy, but other days, bad days, he was very sad. On bad days, he saw that all the other children in the house were taller and much more capable than he was. His two older brothers, and even his two older sisters, could ride two-wheel
bicycles, dial a telephone number, whistle, do joined-up writing, play checkers, and catch a ball.

Mind you, life was becoming more tolerable. Once, Jacob Two-Two couldn’t even reach the front doorbell. Only two years ago, when he was a mere two times two years old, Jacob Two-Two didn’t even know what a day was, where yesterday had gone, and when tomorrow would come. Waking up one morning, he had asked his mother, “Is this tomorrow? Is this tomorrow?”

“No, darling, it’s today.”

“But when you tucked me in at night, you said when I got up
this
day would be tomorrow. You promised! You promised!”

“That was yesterday.”

“You said it was today.”

“It was, and then
this
was going to be tomorrow.”

“But you just said this day is today too. You just said …”

“Oh, Jacob,” his mother had said, kissing him, “sometimes you’re too much.”

Even though he was now two plus two plus two years old and knew more, plenty more, Jacob Two-Two was still not allowed to count sheets for the laundry or cross the street by himself; neither could he run errands
for his mommy and daddy, like his older brothers and sisters. He could now pour milk into his cereal bowl without spilling some, but he still couldn’t cut a slice of bread that wasn’t a foot thick on one end and thin as a sheet of paper on the other. True, he was now allowed to sit in a big chair at the kitchen table, but what good was it when he could hardly see over his dinner plate and his feet didn’t touch the floor but dangled foolishly? And if he lost his temper over this or other injustices and threw a punch at Daniel or Emma, they didn’t even holler or hit back. They merely giggled.

One day when everybody in the house had something absorbing to do, Jacob Two-Two wandered into his big brother’s bedroom.

“Out,” shouted Daniel, “I’m doing my homework.”

His sister Marfa was curled up on the sofa in the study watching wrestling on television.

“You can’t stay in here,” she said.

“Why?” asked Jacob Two-Two. “Why?”

“Because the wrestlers are doing scary things and you’re still a baby and it will give you nightmares and you’ll wet your bed.”

“I won’t,” said Jacob Two-Two. “I won’t.”

“Look,” said Marfa, pointing at the wrestler on the screen, “that’s The Hooded Fang, and he’s going to jump out of the TV set any minute and chew you to bits.”

“I’m not frightened,” said Jacob Two-Two, retreating.

In the garden, under the shelter of the copper beech tree, he found his brother Noah and his sister Emma were at it again. Dressed up, disguised, they were playing their game of pretend. Noah was dangling from the tree. He had a plastic dagger between his teeth and a big towel draped over his shoulders like a cape. “Okay, Shapiro,” he shouted, “come out and fight!”

Emma raced out of her tent waving a wooden sword. “Say your prayers, O’Toole,” she snarled, “because here I come!”

As Noah swung to the ground and Emma charged, Jacob Two-Two jumped between them. “Can I play?” he asked. “Can I play?”

“Oh, no,” moaned Noah. “Now you’ve gone and spoiled everything!”

“Then I’ll be on your side,” said Jacob Two-Two to his sister. “I’ll help you. I’ll help you.”

“Oh, Jacob,” she said, “you’re too little to help anybody.”

“Our game’s too complicated for you.”

“I want to play,” said Jacob Two-Two. “I want to play.”

“Hey,” said Noah, pointing at the kitchen window, “listen, Mommy’s calling you.”

Jacob Two-Two found his mother in the kitchen. “Did you call me?” he asked. “Did you call me?”

“No, dear.”

Jacob Two-Two didn’t ask if he could help cook the dinner. He knew his mother would smile and say he was too little, just as he was too little to go to a real school, like the one his brothers went to. And, more than anything, Jacob Two-Two longed to go to a real school, even though Noah had warned him they had punishment cells there, dark and gloomy, with double-locked doors, and that naughty boys ultimately had to appear before a judge. At a real school, Noah had also said, good boys were served chips with red wine for lunch, followed by ice cream and cigars.

“Now you run off and play,” said Jacob Two-Two’s mother. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

His brothers and sisters didn’t want him. His mother didn’t need him. So Jacob Two-Two went to find his father. He was lying on the living room sofa reading the newspaper.

“I want to run an errand,” said Jacob Two-Two. “I want to run an errand.”

“You’re still too small,” said his father.

“No, I’m not. I’m not!” said Jacob Two-Two. And, suddenly, he burst into tears.

“All right, then.” His father dug into his pocket for some coins. “Go to Mr. Cooper, the greengrocer, two doors down the street, and get me two pounds of firm, red tomatoes.”

CHAPTER 2

acob Two-Two ran off, just a little frightened because this was his first errand, and Emma had warned him that Mr. Cooper, the greengrocer, was two-faced. He was nice to children as long as their parents were with them. He pinched their cheeks and offered them grapes. But if a child came into his shop alone, he made him wait until all the big people had been served. Emma said Mr. Cooper was sour as a lemon.