by Helen Rutter
The Regulars are now officially back together. I like jazz drumming more than rock drumming anyway. As we’re taking all the instruments back into the Music Lounge from the theater, Blakemore sees me struggling with a cymbal and takes it off me.
“Maybe I could be your roadie, Plimpton?”
“Yeah, or even b-better, the Regulars are looking for a lead singer? I bet you sing like an angel, Blakemore, don’t you?”
“You better believe it, Plimpton,” he says, and then launches into some loud opera.
“You’re in!” I laugh as we head into the Music Lounge.
Mr. Osho is sitting at his desk, and I look in my backpack and take out my drumming notepad.
“Billy!” he says, smiling up at me.
“Sir, I th-thought of something to write,” I say, handing over the book. He takes it from me and opens up the cover. Inside is a long list covering every inch of space, and next to every number from 1 to 100, it says, Thank you, written over and over again.
“Billy Plimpton, I am not going to let you make me cry twice in one week. Now come here and give me a hug and then let’s get out of this place until next year, shall we?”
* * *
A few days later, I get a Christmas card from Sue and a note saying how proud she was when she saw me on the stage. Mom sent her a link to the news clip, and Sue says that she’s going to show it to all of her clients to “inspire” them.
On Christmas Eve, we’re all sitting around the table playing cards: me, Alex, Josh, Matthew, and Skyla. Chloe’s invited Aisha over, and they’re galloping around when Aisha points at the window and screams, “It’s snowing!”
By the time we’ve finished playing the game, there’s a thin blanket of snow over the yard. As everyone’s getting their coats on, I run up to my room to get my snow pants and an extra pair of socks. As I’m rummaging in the closet, I feel something hard in among all the coats. I bring it out and see the Nike swoosh. Granny Bread’s box. I sit down on the bed and immediately forget about the snow. I carefully unravel the tape and look at all the letters. I can’t even remember why I’d hidden it from myself.
I smile and put the little bottle of shells onto my bedside table. I take one of the notes and pin it on my pin board next to Scraggles. I lean the octopus card on my desk and then put the rest back in the box and under my bed. It feels comforting knowing it’s there. That Granny Bread’s still here.
So strange how something can feel scary one minute and not at all the next. I take one more look at the shells and then pull on my snow pants and run down the stairs. We collect all the snow off the car and make a stash of snowballs. Then Mom and Dad let us throw the snowballs at them, like they always do. Everyone looks so happy, and I realize that even after everything that’s happened I feel really lucky. Lucky to have my friends and my family all laughing around me.
Then I throw a perfect snowball, and it hits Dad right on his neck and goes into his coat. “Ha! Take that!” I laugh.
“Right, Billy Plimpton, this is war!!!” he shouts as he launches a huge attack on us. We all end up lying in the snow laughing as Dad hurls snowballs at us. After that, we all make Chloe a huge snow pony. So in a way she gets exactly what she asked Father Christmas for.
On Christmas Day, I get exactly what I want too. A beautiful orange suitcase record player. It looks great. And Dad has bought me loads of vinyl to go with it. He got me some comedy records and loads of music too. I didn’t know that you could even listen to stand-up comedy on vinyl!
Here is the list of what I have:
It feels really good listening to Miles Davis again. I look at all the pictures on the record sleeve and read all the stories about the songs on the sheets inside. I love the feel of the records and their covers—they feel special. Important. I’m going to take good care of them and wipe them with a special cloth like Mr. Osho showed us once.
When Granny Bread’s favorite song comes on, I reread all the notes from the Nike box and hold the little bottle of shells as I listen. I fall asleep and dream about Granny Bread swimming with an octopus. When I wake up and imagine Granny Bread wearing a snorkel, mask, and flippers, I get the giggles so bad that I can’t stop.
Not to brag but I have a date for New Year’s Eve.
December 31.
There are five minutes until the new year. Mom and Dad are downstairs trying to stay awake until midnight. They think I’m asleep, but I really wanted to stay awake.
I’m spending a lot of time in my room listening to music now. I bought some more records with my Christmas money. I LOVE record shops! I think Mom wishes they hadn’t given me the record player. She says she never sees me anymore!
After lunch today, Mom and Dad said they had a surprise, which was a “little bit different.” I had no idea what they were talking about and could not tell from their expression what they were feeling either. They looked like kids. Nervous and excited. They handed me an envelope and told me to open it. Inside was a black-and-white picture that looked really weird and blurry, I didn’t know what it was until I noticed some writing on the bottom left-hand corner that said, Baby Plimpton. I looked up at them, and they had their arms around each other and were grinning like crazy. “You’re going to be a big brother again!”
I can hear them downstairs. Only two minutes to go. I think this year is going to be great.
Well, it won’t all be great, obviously. That would be impossible, and not very interesting. We can’t just be one thing, can we? It’s not that simple, is it? I’m made up of lots of different bits and pieces. Good, bad, and everything in between. It’s all what makes me Billy Plimpton.
I can hear them counting down. Here is my final list of the year. A list of all the things that make ME ME.
“Ten!”
My name is Billy Plimpton and I am a comedian.
“Nine!”
I am a drummer.
“Eight!”
I am a big brother.
“Seven!”
I am a goalkeeper.
“Six!”
I am a grandson.
“Five!”
I am a public speaker.
“Four!”
I am a writer.
“Three!”
I am a friend.
“Two!”
I am amazing, incredible, and unique.
“One!”
And I am average.
Oh yes, and I also have a stutter.
Happy New Year!
Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Tank.
Tank who?
You’re welcome.
Soon after I began writing Billy Plimpton (when I had no idea if it would ever be published), I became fascinated by acknowledgments pages. I found myself in bookshops flicking to the back of book after book to read about who everyone was so grateful to, imagining their lives and writing processes. Now here I am writing my own!
Thank you to my wonderful agent Chloe Seager, I will never forget getting your first email. The whole team at Madeleine Milburn really are the best—thanks to all of you for sending Billy’s words far and wide.
Huge thanks to everyone at Scholastic (on both sides of the Atlantic)—you all have shown me just how great “book people” are. Harriet, Pete, Jenny, Liam, Bec, Penelope, and everyone else who I have not had the pleasure of chatting to directly—you are all brilliant at what you do. Andrew Banneker, thank you so much for the beautiful illustrations. My editors, Lauren Fortune and David Levithan—you are amazing. I can’t thank you enough for all of your help in shaping this book.
To the lovely lot who read my early drafts and chatted through ideas, back when Billy wasn’t even Billy. Nanny Soup, Granny Bean, Jools, Colette, Ben, Jen, and Bridget. You gave me both feedback and hope. Thanks!
Finally, to my family, who have cheered me on the whole way. Cleo, who listened to me read numerous different drafts over many, many bedtimes, you are my shining star. If I ever find that real life unicorn—it’s
yours. Lenny—this story would not exist without you. I have learned so much about life from how you live yours. You have been not only my inspiration but my mini proofreader—your hawk eye misses nothing! Rob, as your head is barely ever out of a book, it is only fitting that you are now mentioned in one. Thank you.
As Billy Plimpton discovers, he is far from the first kid to live with a stutter. In fact, approximately 5 percent of all kids deal with stuttering—that’s about seven million kids in American alone! Kids with stutters have grown up to be the President of the United States (Joe Biden) and to speak at that president’s inauguration as the National Youth Poet Laureate (Amanda Gorman). Famous singers (Ed Sheeran) and actors (Emily Blunt, James Earl Jones) have also lived with stutters. As with Billy, it helps to have a speech therapist who can help you live with your stutter. There are also a number of organizations that provide resources for people with stutters. The Stuttering Foundation’s website at stutteringhelp.org provides online resources and support to those who stutter and their families. They have a kids’ area at stutteringhelp.org/kids. SAY, the Stuttering Association for the Young, is a nonprofit organization that provides programming, support, and a primer about stuttering at say.org/stuttering-101. Other organizations dedicated to empowering people who stutter and their families are Friends, which can be found at friendswhostutter.org, and the National Stuttering Foundation at westutter.org.
Helen Rutter lives in the United Kingdom and has worked as an actress for many years, often performing her own work. The idea for her first novel, The Boy Who Made Everyone Laugh, came from her son Lenny, who has a stutter. She wanted to write the book that he would love to read. She is now hard at work on her second novel. You can visit her online at helenrutter.com
Copyright © 2021 by Helen Rutter
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, August 2021
Jacket art © 2021 by Andrew Bannecker
Jacket design by Baily Crawford
e-ISBN 978-1-338-65228-4
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