“I wish I had Dodger back!”
The Great Lasorda stepped back in shock, then let out a huge burp. “Excuse me,” he said. “But did I just hear you say that your last wish is to have Dodger back?”
I nodded.
“Dodger?” he repeated. “Dodger, the blue chimpanzee?”
“Yes, that’s the Dodger I mean,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “No second thoughts? No adjustments?”
“No second thoughts. No adjustments,” I replied.
The umpire tapped me on the shoulder and said, “It’s time to get back in the box, kid.”
I turned away from the Great Lasorda and stepped back into the batter’s box. Just then, Dodger appeared. He was leaning against the backstop, looking straight across the plate at me. There was a slice of pepperoni stuck to his shoulder. “Dude,” he said, “it’s about time! I was starting to think you’d never ask for me back!” He picked the pepperoni out of his fur, flipped it up in the air, and caught it in his mouth. He swallowed with a gulp, gave me a huge, toothy smile, and said, “So what are you waiting for? Hit that thing out of here so we can go have a party, a fiesta, a night on the town!”
Wow, it was great to have my buddy back. But had he just said the same thing, three different ways? For a second he had almost sounded like—
Nah, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and took a last quick look around. My parents were smiling encouragingly. Amy was grinning, too. Behind Dodger’s left shoulder, Lizzie was leaning forward in her seat. Could she still see him? I wasn’t sure, but from where she was sitting, she definitely couldn’t see the thumbs-up sign he gave me. Even with all the pressure of the moment, I could feel joy spreading through my whole body. It felt like I had the greatest secret in the world. And do you know what? I did.
I tapped my bat on home plate, then wagged it menacingly at the pitcher. He gave me the evil eye.
The umpire shouted, “PLAY BALL!”
Go Fish!
GOFISH
QUESTIONS FOR THE AUTHOR
JORDAN SONNENBLICK
What did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be some combination of writer, teacher, and drummer. I never really thought I’d end up doing all three, though.
When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
I don’t remember exactly, but it was really, really early in life. However, I spent the first thirty-three years of my life bragging about how I was going to write a book someday, instead of actually working on my writing!
What’s your first childhood memory?
Some kid named Anthony from down the block threw sand in my eyes, and my Grampa Sol sang the Sandman Song to me until I calmed down and fell asleep. I just remember feeling so completely safe once I was all snuggled up with Grampa.
What′s your most embarrassing childhood memory? My eyes are terrible without my glasses on. Once at sleepaway camp when I was thirteen, I was showing off while waterskiing. In the middle of doing tricks on one ski, I crashed into a fifteen-foot-long wooden float. Afterward, I couldn′t walk right for days!
What′s your favorite childhood memory?
Watching the 1977 and 1978 World Series with my dad (The Yankees beat the Dodgers twice in a row!). Or when my parents got me my first drum set.
As a young person, who did you look up to most?
My Grampa Sol. He was a teacher and author, which drove me to pursue those careers as well. Also, he was the one person who never, ever lied to me. In my experience, kids appreciate honesty above nearly any other character trait.
What was your worst subject in school? Sitting still. Come to think of it, that’s still my worst subject.
What was your best subject in school?
Either English, or making my friends laugh. I haven′t changed much, apparently.
What was your first job?
All through high school, I was both a tutor and a summer camp counselor. If you ever need help with algebra or archery, I’m your guy.
How did you celebrate publishing your first book? With a big party in my backyard—a tent, catering, and even a wiffleball game. Then my original publisher went out of business three days later. Yikes!
Where do you write your books?
Mostly at the computer in my kitchen, but sometimes on a laptop wherever I happen to be. As long as I have headphones with me, I’m pretty good at shutting out the world in order to write.
Where do you find inspiration for your writing?
From kids. My book ideas always start with a kid doing something that puzzles or amazes me. The Dodger books, for example, are inspired by events in my son’s real life. No, he doesn’t have a blue chimp for a best friend, but he does have many of the same worries and challenges Willie does.
Which of your characters is most like you?
Oh, gosh, ALL of them. No one character is 100% me, but each has big chunks of my personality, habits, strengths, and weaknesses. People who know me really well always say they can hear my voice in the words of each of my main characters.
When you finish a book, who reads it first?
My wife. In fact, she reads my pages daily while I′m writing every first draft. She’s also the only person in the world whose judgment I never, ever ignore—which makes both my writing and my marriage better!
Are you a morning person or a night owl?
Both; I just need a nap in the middle of the day. I always tell my wife I should move to Spain so everyone around me would be taking a daily siesta, too.
What′s your idea of the best meal ever?
My last Thanksgiving with my Dad. I wish we could have had a hundred more just like it.
Which do you like better: cats or dogs?
Neither—I′m completely allergic! Well, that’s not quite fair. I like dogs a lot, even if I don′t like the itchy welts I get if I play with one for more than three minutes.
What do you value most in your friends?
Loyalty.
Where do you go for peace and quiet?
Anyplace where I can play an instrument or read. I also really like riding my bicycle out in the country where there’s no traffic. In fact, whenever I get stuck in the middle of my writing, I find that a long bike ride is a great way to clear the jam and get my brain working again.
What makes you laugh out loud? Just about anything. I laugh a lot.
What′s your favorite song?
Just about anything the Beatles ever wrote. In fact, I love the Beatles so much that when each of my children was born, I made sure the Beatles album Abbey Road was the first music they heard.
Who is your favorite fictional character?
Probably Hagrid, from Harry Potter. He has such loyalty, and such a huge, brave heart.
What are you most afraid of?
Failing to come through for the people I love.
What time of year do you like best?
Baseball season. I spend the whole winter looking forward to the spring, when I can start pitching batting practice to my son and his friends again. Incidentally, I throw a pretty good two-seam fastball, a decent curve, and a killer cut fastball.
What′s your favorite TV show?
I don’t really have one. I guess my default answer would be any televised Yankees game.
If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you want for company?
My family. Or anyone who was good at shipbuilding.
If you could travel in time, where would you go?
Back to my old summer camp in the Poconos, around 1985. Or to the moment when either of my kids was born—there′s just nothing else like becoming a parent.
What′s the best advice you have ever received about writing?
If you want to get better at writing, you’d better read a lot. Most other writing advice is basically a matter of taste or opinion, but the connection between reading and good writing is a 100% non-negotiable fact.
If I could, I’d carve this piece of advice above the doorway of every school in America.
What do you want readers to remember about your books?
I don’t really think about what I’d like them to remember, but I hope that while they’re reading, they come to care about my characters as much as I do.
What would you do if you ever stopped writing?
Go back to teaching. I really miss my old students. The great thing about working with middle schoolers is that no two days are ever the same, and I miss having that kind of fun randomness in my daily life.
What do you like best about yourself?
My thick, lustrous hair. Just kidding! Really, I am proud that I am kind, and that I try my best to make other people’s lives easier. But I do, in fact, have thick and lustrous hair.
What is your worst habit?
Self-criticism.
What is your best habit?
I dunno, probably my addiction to reading.
What do you consider to be your greatest accomplishment?
Fatherhood.
Where in the world do you feel most at home?
At home. Or in NYC, Houston, Philly, or London. It′s funny: I like big cities a lot—but being in my quiet little house with my family is better.
What do you wish you could do better? Play guitar. I’m an okay player, but I am terrible about practicing.
What would your readers be most surprised to learn about you?
Maybe that I love to cook, but hate using recipes?
Keep reading for an excerpt from
Jordon Sonnenblick′s Dodger for President,
coming soon in hardcover from Feiwel and Friends.
EXCERPT
“Dude!” Dodger shouted as he jumped into my arms.
“Oww!” I yelped as we tumbled together to the floor of my room. This happened pretty often, because I was a wimpy, 80-pound fifth grader and Dodger was a really strong, 125-pound chimp. With blue fur. And bright orange-and-white surfer shorts. Plus an eye patch.
Oh, and he’s invisible to everyone except me and this girl named Lizzie.
It’s a really long story.
But the point is, Dodger knocked me over and landed right on top of me. It’s amazing how pointy a chimpanzee’s elbows are. So as I was lying there, gasping for air, Dodger started talking a mile a minute. The conversation went like this:
DODGER: Dude, you missed so much while you were in Cleveland with your dad!
ME: Gasp …
DODGER: Lizzie took me to school, just like we planned. And there was just one little problem.
ME: Gasp …
DODGER: Like, there was this science quiz. It was totally hard. There were all these, um, questions and stuff. And you had to fill in these little bubbles with letters next to them, but I really didn’t see what the letters had to do with the questions. The question would be all What type of rock is made when a volcano erupts and then the lava cools? But the answers would be all like A. Or B. Or C. Or even D. Dude, I don’t know a whole lot about rocks, but even a chimp knows there’s no kind of rock called “A Rock.” ‘Cause that would be just completely confusing. Somebody would ask you, “What do you call that cool rock you’re holding?” And you’d go, “This? It’s called ‘A Rock.’” And they’d go, “Yeah, I know it’s a rock. But what kind of rock is it?” Then you’d be all, “Buddy, the name of this rock is ‘A Rock.’” And they’d be all, “Why do you have to be such a wise guy? All I did was ask the name of a rock.” So you’d go, “Exactly!” And then they’d probably hit you or something.
But, you know, I did my best for you.
ME: What do you mean, you … gasp … did your “best” for me?
DODGER: Well, I didn’t want you to get all behind in your work, right? So I just wrote your name on top of a quiz and tried really hard to fill in all the bubbles.
ME: Okay, so you took a test in my name, on a day when I wasn’t even in school. I guess that was the problem.
DODGER: Uh, no, that wasn’t the problem. I mean, I made this really great sentence out of all the letters. Do you want to hear it?
ME (puts head in hands): Gasp … sure.
DODGER: Okay, here it is: “CAB! A CAB! DAD, A CAB! A … A … BAD CAB!” See, it’s like this little story about you and your dad. Get it? You, like, see this taxicab, right? So you yell to your dad, and you try to get the driver to stop. But the cab just keeps going. Genius, huh?
ME: Groan …
DODGER: I still don’t get the part about the rocks, though. Well, maybe we’ll get a lot of points for creativity.
You couldn’t leave this chimp alone for a minute. So apparently a whole weekend plus a school day were completely out of the question. I got up off the floor, checked myself for broken ribs, and dusted off. Meanwhile Dodger started to tell me about the rest of his day at school. It was hard to believe there was more, but I hadn’t even heard about the problem yet.
“So then in social studies, they’re learning about how all these explorer guys discovered North America and discovered South America and, like, discovered Africa. I totally wanted to set the record straight, but I didn’t.”
Well, that was a relief. “Uh, Dodger, what did you want to set the record straight about, exactly?”
“I wanted to tell them about how chimpanzees had already totally conquered all those places, thousands and thousands of years ago. Like before you called it South America, we called it Banana World. And before you had Europe, we had No-Monkeys-Land.”
I always get drawn in when he does this. I don’t know why, but it happens every stupid time. So I said, “What about Asia?”
He smirked. “Chimptopia, of course.”
“Africa?”
“Land O’Mammals.”
“New Jersey?”
Dodger made a horrified face. “Dude, who would want to conquer New Jersey? Anyway, you would have been proud of me, Willie. I didn’t say a single word. Well, okay, I kind of laughed when the cake fell on James Beeks.”
“Wait a minute, a cake fell on James Beeks? Was that the problem?”
“‘Problem’? It was awesome. I mean, there was this huge, brown-and-orange volcano cake on the ledge over the chalkboard. And, you know, Beeks is the coolest kid in the school, right? And he always calls you Wimpy and says you’re a total dork, right? So I just thought it was funny when he got …”
“What do you mean, a total dork?” I blurted.
Dodger looked sheepish for a moment. “Well, you know, not a dork, exactly. It’s not your fault about your little dressing-funny problem, since your mom picks out all your clothes, right? Plus, who can blame you for not having any guy friends since Tim moved away? It’s hard to hang out with the guys if you’re not good at—oh, never mind.”
I was insulted, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. The madder I got, the more off topic Dodger got, and I had a feeling I would really need to know what the mysterious problem was. “Whatever. So how did the cake fall on James Beeks anyway?”
“Okay, you know how I was trying not to say anything about the whole social studies thing? That was totally hard for me, right? So I was just kind of hopping up and down in my seat next to Lizzie. I guess that made the ledge over the chalkboard vibrate. And the cake just slid off the ledge. Then Mrs. Starsky tried to make a jumping catch. It was pretty awesome, but she fumbled the cake. So it bounced off her hands onto James’s head, upside down.”
I could just tell there had to be more to this story, so I waited. Sure enough, Dodger continued, “I don’t know why he got so mad. I only laughed a little. And it’s not like my laugh really sounds like Lizzie’s anyway. But he thought Lizzie was laughing at him—I guess he couldn’t hear that well through all the cake around his ears. So he got all mad, and Mrs. Starsky yelled at Lizzie.”
“Oh,” I said. “I guess that’s the problem, huh?”
“No,” Dodger replied. “That’s not the problem. So then Lizzie started yelling at James, right? And, dude,
he was getting completely heated. He kept trying to wipe all this orange icing off his face and yelling back at her. Then Mrs. Starsky was standing between James and Lizzie, trying to see if James was okay, even though it was only a cake that fell on him in the first place. It was really funny, but I only laughed a little bit more. So the teacher thought it was Craig Flynn, ‘cause he usually laughs at everybody, right?”
This was getting better and better. Not! I thought I heard our doorbell ringing downstairs, but I wasn’t going to go down and miss the end of this story. My mom could get the door.
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