I laughed, looking down at the pages floating in the water. “Yeah, well, you can never be too careful.”
That probably wasn’t the smartest or nicest thing to say, considering the circumstances.
Jake came over to me, looking almost as mad as his mom. “So this is funny to you? Destroying my stuff? You might not care about books, Charlie Joe, but some of us do, you know. Some of us care a lot.”
“It was an accident,” I said. “Teddy and I were just inside, and I was showing him the books, and telling him the story of how we gave them to you on my sixth birthday.” I was trying to accomplish a lot with that sentence: remind him that they were my books in the first place, and remind everyone else that it was my birthday.
I left out the part about Teddy’s plan to annoy Jake’s mom by putting them somewhere else. I’m not sure including that part would have accomplished anything at all.
Hannah, who was standing next to Jake, scrunched up her eyes. “An accident?” she said. “Running into the pool with a bunch of books in your hands?”
Oh, great. Now it was gang-up-on-Charlie-Joe time.
“Your brother is afraid of dogs!” I told Hannah. “You should know that better than anyone! He was running for his life!”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Are you serious? He loves dogs! He practically is one!” Then she looked over at Teddy. “You told him you were scared of dogs?”
“Well, you know, what can I say?” Teddy said. Then he looked at me and grinned. “I kind of owed you one from the Camp Wockajocka basketball game.” He was referring to the time at summer camp when I tricked Teddy into eating way too much pizza and throwing up all over the basketball court, which helped my camp beat his camp at basketball. I have to say, that was one of my proudest moments.
This, however, was not. This was the opposite of one of my proudest moments. I couldn’t believe it. Teddy had made up the whole thing about being afraid of dogs! I felt my ears start to burn. It was bad enough that people were mad at me for ruining Jake’s books (which used to be mine, did I mention that?). But now, Teddy had actually played a perfect practical joke on me.
That’s supposed to be my job!
Without thinking, I charged Teddy Spivero. “I HATE YOU!” I shouted, and before I knew it, I was on top of him, and we were rolling around on the ground, pulling and yanking and yelling (but not punching). The whole thing lasted six seconds at the most, before various kids and adults pulled us apart.
“What’s your problem!” he yelled.
“You’re my problem!” I yelled back.
We were both panting like we’d just run a marathon.
“Can’t you take a joke?” Teddy hissed. “How many times have you played jokes on other people? But one time someone gets you good, and you totally freak out? Are you serious?”
My parents came running over to find out what the heck was going on. When my mom saw me, she looked beyond disappointed—she looked crushed. They pulled me off to the side so no one could hear us.
“Mom! Dad!” I said. “It’s not like it looks! Teddy totally played a trick on me and we ended up in the pool drowning the Mark Twain books that you guys got me for my sixth birthday!”
“What it looks like to me,” said my dad, “is you disrupting a perfectly nice party for absolutely no reason.”
“Dad! They were my books!”
“But you hated them!” said my mom. “You hated reading! You still hate reading! After all these years, you still haven’t changed! Everyone around you has gotten more mature, more responsible, but you’re still the same old Charlie Joe!”
“Teddy hasn’t changed, either,” I said, lamely, looking over at him. Mrs. Spivero was giving him a lecture. He looked back at me, and we both knew we were in the same boat.
And the boat was sinking.
“This isn’t about Teddy,” said my dad. “This is about you figuring out how to stop acting so immature.”
“That’s the problem!” I said, loud enough so that heads turned in our direction. “I’m not a grown-up, so why do I have to act grown up?”
And with that, I turned and ran past the house, into the driveway and out to our car, where I decided to wait until my parents were finally ready to drive me home.
It turned out they weren’t ready for a while.
After five minutes, Katie came out to the driveway.
“What’s going on?” she asked me.
“Nothing,” I answered.
Together, we waited for another few minutes, until I called the only person I thought of who could help me.
Ten minutes later, my sister Megan came to pick me up. Moose and Coco were in the back seat. Boy, was I glad to see all three of them!
“Do you want me to come with you?” Katie asked.
I smiled. “That would be awesome.”
Katie texted her parents, then we got in the car. Megan didn’t ask us one question, by the way. She just drove.
That’s why I love my sister.
* * *
FLASHBACK!!
One day, when young Charlie Joe Jackson was either three or four years old—possibly three and three-quarters—his mother was reading him a book before bed. It was a story about a little bird that fell out of a nest, and then went all over the neighborhood asking people and things if they were his mother.
It was Charlie Joe’s favorite story, and he asked his mother to read it over and over again.
Finally, after about seventeen times through the book, Mrs. Jackson was tired.
“Charlie Joe, I have to do some other things,” she said. “I can’t read to you anymore.”
“No!” protested Charlie Joe.
“I will read to you later,” his mother promised. “But maybe we should try a different story?”
“No!” announced Charlie Joe. “Same story!”
Charlie Joe waited patiently for his mother to finish the other things she had to do. He waited. And he waited. And he waited.
Finally, he realized that his mother wasn’t ever coming back.
“MOM!!!” he yelled. But his mother didn’t hear him.
Instead, his sister, Megan, came running into the room. “What are you yelling about?” she asked.
“Mom said she was coming back, but then she left and never came back!”
“That was only five minutes ago,” Megan said.
“No it wasn’t!”
“Yes it was.”
“No it wasn’t!”
“Yes it was!”
Charlie Joe was shocked. It had seemed a lot longer than that. But it didn’t matter. He still wanted to hear his story. He started to cry.
“What’s the matter?” asked his sister.
Charlie Joe was too busy crying to talk. Instead, he just pointed at the book.
“You want me to read the book to you?” asked his sister.
Charlie Joe nodded.
Megan, who was still very young herself, took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if she could read the whole thing to her little brother. It seemed kind of long, and she had never done anything like that before.
But she looked at his sad face and picked up the book.
“Are you ready?” Megan asked her brother.
He wiped away the last tear, smiled, and said, “I’m ready.”
She opened to the first page.
“A mother bird sat on her egg,” Megan read out loud, carefully. “The egg jumped…”
After the first few pages, Charlie Joe put his head on his sister’s shoulder.
By the time his mom came back into the room, Charlie Joe was fast asleep.
* * *
Part Two
SMACK IN THE MIDDLE OF EVERYTHING
6
1:10 pm
We were halfway home when we decided to not go home.
“Um, Katie?” I said. “In all the excitement, which you haven’t asked me about—which I really appreciate by the way—I never got a chance to eat lunch.”
“Oh man, t
hat food was so amazing,” Katie added, which just made my stomach grumble even louder. “You should have tried the fried chicken.”
“Not helpful,” I told her.
Megan eyed me in the rearview mirror (Moose was sitting in the front seat, as usual). “So where do you guys want to go?”
“Jookie’s,” I said.
“The Scooper Bowl,” Katie said, at exactly the same time.
Megan laughed. “Well, here’s an idea. It’s someone’s birthday today, and he gets to do whatever he wants, so why don’t we do both? We’ll hit up Scooper for some burgers and shakes, and then on to Jookie’s for some air hockey?”
“Sounds awesome!” My mood was improving by the second. I checked the time on my phone. “The only thing is, I have to be at the school by four, for the awards ceremony.” That was the big event before graduation. It was for people who were receiving special school honors, and for some crazy reason I was on the list. I figured I was getting some sort of school spirit or class clown award. But hey, I’ll take it.
My phone buzzed—it was a text from my mom: Not allowed to stay mad at you on your birthday. Do you guys want us to meet you? Where are you going?
I texted back: Quick lunch with Megan and Katie. Meet you at home in an hour.
Well, that didn’t happen.
7
1:22 pm
The Scooper Bowl specialized in “Burgers, fries, and the most freshtabulous ice cream in Connecticut!” At least, that’s what the sign on the window said. I think they invented the word freshtabulous, which I have to say is a pretty perfect word.
“You guys wait in the car,” I said to Moose and Coco, as Megan parked behind the restaurant. They didn’t look happy about it, but they understood that was part of the deal of being dogs. Overall, considering all the eating, sleeping, and playing, they still had a pretty good deal, if you ask me.
The three of us sat down in a booth, and I ordered the usual: cheeseburger with cheddar, medium fries.
“It’s my birthday,” I told the waiter. “Do I get a free cone or something?”
“Impressive,” said the waiter, who didn’t look all that impressed. “Unfortunately, free birthday cones are only for kids ten and under.” He pointed three tables over, where a bunch of toddlers were shoving ice cream everywhere but in their mouths. “They’re having a birthday party, you can go join them if you want.”
“Fine, I’ll take a black and white shake,” I said, suddenly feeling old and dumb.
“That was unnecessary,” Katie said, glaring at the waiter as he walked away.
While we waited for our food, Megan let out a little giggle.
“Charlie Joe, do you remember the last time we sat at this exact table?”
I thought for a second. Megan and I got along really well, but that didn’t mean we went out for ice cream very often. More like, never.
“Uh, no, why?”
“Because it was hilarious, that’s why.” She pointed. “I’d just read that book for you at the library, and you were freaking out because Timmy and Hannah were having ice cream together.”
“Oh, snap,” Katie said. “I remember hearing about that. I remember hearing about that a lot.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a little foggy but it’s coming back to me now,” I said, which was a complete and utter lie. I remembered every second of that day like it was yesterday.
“Watching you watch Timmy as he flirted with Hannah was pretty hilarious,” Megan said. “You looked like you wanted to take his milkshake and pour it down his pants.”
“I don’t remember that,” I said. Again … lie.
The shakes came, and I downed half of mine in one gulp. I drink milkshakes really fast when I feel a little nervous. And also, when I don’t feel nervous at all. And everything in between.
Katie, meanwhile, took a tiny sip. “Charlie Joe, you spent so much time liking Hannah Spivero. Like, years.”
“Do we have to talk about this on my birthday?” I whined.
“You’re right, Charlie Joe, that’s old news,” Megan said. “Let’s talk about you two. So Katie, what’s the deal? When do you have to decide about private school?”
“Like, in the next few weeks, I think,” Katie answered.
Megan chomped on an onion ring. “That’s so cool,” she said. “Are you psyched about it? I mean, private school sounds kinds of awesome in a way, right? It’s almost like being in college.”
“I guess,” Katie said. “But I would miss my friends a lot.”
“Totally,” Megan agreed.
“I kind of think you should totally go,” I said, out of the blue.
“Huh?” said Katie.
I gulped some more shake. “I mean, why not? Everything else is changing around here. What’s one more totally changing thing? Out with the old, in with the new, on to the next, right?”
They both stared at me like I had two heads.
Here’s why: When Katie first told me she was thinking of going to private school, I kind of freaked out a little bit.
Fine, not a little bit—a lot.
Fine, not a lot—a ton.
It was right at the time when we were realizing we liked each other, after Zoe had moved away, and I couldn’t believe the timing. Going to private school isn’t exactly the same as moving, but it’s basically the same thing, right? It’s basically out of your life, right? Anyway, I started thinking about all the ways I could make sure she wouldn’t go to private school, so we could be together. One of those ways involved a cupcake-eating chicken named Cletus. It wasn’t pretty.
So the fact that I was encouraging her to go to private school after all that was kind of shocking. To them, and to me.
“Are you serious?” Katie asked. “Or is this a joke? I can’t tell.”
“Me neither,” I said.
“You’re lucky it’s your birthday, otherwise I’d be getting really mad right about now,” Katie said, which was funny because she was sounding plenty mad already.
I raised my hands in that clueless kind of way. “What did I do? I’m just encouraging you to go away if that’s what you want.”
“Who said that’s what I want?”
“I think I know what’s going on here,” Megan jumped in. “Charlie Joe, Katie is a little hurt that you aren’t asking her to stay here with you.” Megan shifted her gaze from me to Katie. “And sorry, Katie, but my brother is acting out, the way he always does when he gets nervous. He’s obviously a little uptight about everything that’s happening and graduating from middle school and going to high school, and the fact that things got weird at Jake’s party, and that it’s all happening on his birthday, so it’s a little hard for him to think straight right now.”
Megan looked at me, nodding her head as if to say, Jump in anytime, dummy.
“Absolutely!” I said. “You know I want you to stay! It’s just, yeah, I’m not gonna lie, I am a little freaked out by everything that’s going on today.”
“I’m going to wait in the car with the dogs,” was Katie’s answer. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks,” I said, but she was gone by then.
I went back to my burger, and Megan went back to her salad, and neither of us said anything.
After about five minutes, Megan slurped the last of her diet coke, then looked at me. “Life gets more complicated as you get older, huh?”
I nodded. “You’re telling me,” I said.
It was true. Things were so much simpler, once upon a time.
* * *
FLASHBACK!!
After the first few months of kindergarten, young Charlie Joe Jackson got over his fear of school and was already starting to establish his position as one of the most interesting characters in his class. He wasn’t big on reading, that much was true, but otherwise, he was smart, lively, funny, and interested in the world around him. He’d made some friends, too: his next-door neighbor, the adorable blonde-headed boy named Timmy McGibney, who was still a little annoying but also funny and r
eliable; and Pete Milano, whose main claim to fame was that he shoved things up his nose that weren’t all that easy to get out.
These three young boys loved recess, where they got to run around, play games, and let out all that little-boy energy that had been pent up inside them all morning in the classroom. Their favorite activity, by far, was kickball. Many boys in the grade felt the same way: and so, on most days, the softball field was filled with running, throwing, kicking, yelling, and all sorts of kickball fun.
One day, however, everything changed.
It was the middle of the game, and Charlie Joe was pitching. He was a tricky little pitcher, rolling the ball with a wicked spin that made it hard to kick. After a strapping young boy named Phil Manning popped up to second base, he angrily kicked the ground and said, “Charlie Joe, you’re not pitching fair!”
“Yes, I am,” Charlie Joe said. “It’s not my fault if you can’t kick it.”
“Nobody can kick it!” Phil responded.
Other boys started piping in. “Yeah, Charlie Joe, pitch fair! No spinning! Cut it out!”
“You guys are all a bunch of chickens!” Charlie Joe hollered back.
This typical back-and-forth went on for a few more seconds until suddenly a strange voice rang out.
“Do you guys mind if I try?” the voice said. “Charlie Joe, will you pitch to me?”
All the boys’ heads turned in a single direction—toward the fence behind first base, where a girl was standing.
The girl walked over to Charlie Joe. He recognized her—her name was Katie, and she was in his class.
“I’d like to play,” said Katie. “Would that be okay?”
Charlie Joe shook his head. “This is a boys’ game,” he said. “Sorry.” He turned around, back to his friends. “Okay, who’s up?”
Charlie Joe was about to go back to the mound when Katie spoke out again.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But why is it a boys’ game? Shouldn’t a girl be allowed to play if she wants to?”
Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up Page 4