Extract - The Travelling Bookshop by Katrina Nannestad illustrated by Cheryl Orsini

The bump is new. Brand new. A book has just fallen on my head and startled me awake. ‘Ouch!’ I rub my forehead, but I don’t cry. I don’t even say, ‘Ouch!’ again. Because I’m used to books falling on my head. It’s bound to happen when you sleep in a bookshop. Especially a travelling bookshop. And especially, especially when the travelling bookshop is an old wooden caravan pulled by a horse called Flossy who sometimes strays off the edge of the road. The caravan lurches and sways, and three more books fall from their shelves. Dust puffs out from their pages and fills the air. I sneeze — ‘Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!’ — once for each book.

2