by Jamie Sumner
We made a giant menorah out of toilet paper rolls.
And an Advent calendar with old binder clips.
We did whatever we could to turn everyone’s trash into something miraculous.
And for the final touch, we taped a special surprise to the front of every locker belonging to a kid who turned in trash.
Andrew has a tiny basketball hoop made out of one of his empty Gatorade bottles to celebrate making the team. Heidi, the seventh grader who’s never missed a day of school, gets all her old Latin notes folded into origami stars. Chance didn’t donate, but I figured this was as good of an apology as he would let me give him, so I made him a Christmas tree out of old Pioneers programs. I watch him notice it for the first time. We don’t have, like, a moment or anything, but he does give me a nod and I nod back.
Even the Crow got something—a giant parabola on his door made out of duct tape and turned into a ski slope. I watch Micah point it out to him as he stands with his arms crossed. And then, the biggest miracle of all, he uncrosses them… and smiles. I can see Micah sway on his feet with joy all the way from here.
Em is next to me through it all, and I’m a bundle of jangling nerves, trying not to look at her. If she hates it, I’m not ready to know yet. When we get to her locker, I take a deep breath and spin her to face it. She stands there for an excruciatingly long time without saying anything. Maybe she’s mad because I didn’t let her help plan the whole thing. But I wanted it to be a surprise for her, after the newsletter disaster.
“You don’t like it.” It’s a statement. I’m preparing for the worst.
Silence.
She could at least say something.
She lifts the giant snowflake from her locker by its string and holds it in the air so it twirls. I can’t read her face through the gaps in its paper.
She leans in closer, squints, and then leans back again.
“You made me a snowflake,” she says eventually.
“A bunch of them, actually. There are more in your locker.”
I point to one tip of the snowflake where you can just make out: “Editor-in-chief: Emilia Costa.”
“You made me a snowflake out of old Paw Prints.”
I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. Em lowers her snowflake to look at me.
“Hugo,” she says. “I love it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Her face breaks open into a grin, and she holds it up again. We watch it spin under the red and green lights.
Then she leans in and kisses me on the cheek for the second time in my life, and I am shaken up like a snow globe with happiness and relief. If I fail every single exam, it was all worth it.
“There’s more,” I say, bouncing up and down on my toes. “You get the Paw Print back.”
“What?” she squeals, and I hand her the formal announcement signed by our principal reinstating the newsletter and all its staff after Christmas. “Hugo, this is amazing! But how did you—?”
“That was all me,” Vij says, jogging up with an armful of Post-it pom-poms. They’re from Spanish class. I can see old conjugations on each one. “Myer loves me.”
“The phone calls from the PTA and pep club didn’t hurt either,” I add.
Micah bumps into us, draped in a Hanukkah garland of blue exam booklets. We stand there, shoulder to shoulder, trying to take it in. It’s like the four of us on the chairlift all over again. Then the bell rings, and the Crow marches through the halls clapping his hands and yelling at people to get to class. He looks all business, but I spot one of our paper airplanes made out of graph paper sticking out of his back pocket.
* * *
I think I actually manage not to fail my exam. When Mom and Dad pick me up at noon, I give them the tour. Mom is stunned. Dad is impressed.
“Hugo,” Dad says, turning a slow circle under the twisty ties and trying not to wipe out on the confetti with his crutches. “This is… incredible.”
I look up and around. This came from people’s trash. If we hadn’t resurrected it and repurposed it, it would have ended up at the dump. I try not to think about what a pain it’s going to be to clean. Part of the deal with Principal Myer was that whatever we put up, we take down, and anything that can be, gets recycled. Most of the decorations on everyone’s lockers have been torn off. Maybe they’re keeping them as a reminder of their own awesomeness. I hope so.
“I know I didn’t tell you about it. I wanted it to be a surprise. See, Mom? Garbology at its finest.”
She raises an eyebrow. “So, you’ll finally empty your trash can in your room, then?”
I give a shrug that could mean anything.
“Hugo really outdid himself,” Principal Myer says, coming up to my parents and putting one hand on each of their shoulders.
“Thank you for letting the newsletter start back up again, Principal Myer,” I say. “I’m sorry I won’t be back next semester to help with it.”
Principal Myer looks back and forth between my parents questioningly. I can’t believe they haven’t told her yet that we’re moving.
“Actually, kid, we want to talk to you about that,” Mom says.
Myer winks at me. “I’ll just leave you three alone.” She walks off down the hallway, running her hand along the glittery paper clip streamers so they tinkle like bells.
“Your dad and I have been talking,” Mom begins, and I stop breathing.
“I did some campaigning for myself. The ski shop’s computer system is in desperate need of a redesign—the whole chain of retail stores, actually. They need a guy with IT and mountain experience,” Dad says.
“And I feel like I’ve made some progress with my clients here,” Mom adds.
“And we both know how much you love being close to your cousins.”
They glance at each other.
“We know this move wasn’t your idea,” Mom continues, “but we want to make this next decision as a whole family, so—” She looks back at Dad, and Dad looks at me.
“So?” I say with my heart jackrabbiting around my ribs.
“So, if you really want to stay,” Mom says, “we’ll make a go of it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Dad says, shifting on his crutches. “We’re serious. If you want to.”
“You’re kidding, right? Yes, I want to!”
Then I yell “Epic!” so loud it echoes all the way down the hall.
Vij and Em and Micah turn from where they’re waiting for me by our lockers.
“I’m staying!” I shout.
“What?” Em yells.
I cup my hands around my mouth. “I’m stay-ing!”
“Really?!” Micah calls.
“No way!” Vij yells.
“Way!” Dad shouts, which reminds me that I am still standing by my parents when I could actually be with my friends.
I know this doesn’t fix everything. Now Chance and I are going to have to figure out how to coexist with each other here. Mom and Dad will too. But if this year has taught me one thing, it’s that you celebrate your wins.
I duck under Dad’s arm and run toward my friends.
Vij howls.
Micah howls.
I howl.
Em shakes her head and says, “Animals.” But then she howls too.
Outside, the twins wait for us on the steps, and Gray sets up his camera to make us pose for a picture. Out of habit, I move to the end, but Vij pulls me to the middle. The six of us stand in front of our very own School of Garbology with hole-punch confetti in our hair and grin like fools.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Book ideas, for me at least, tend to come from strange places. Years ago, when I was teaching a creative writing seminar to my high school students, one of my favorite books to use was Janet Burroway’s Imaginative Writing: Elements of the Craft. It covers everything from poetry to screen writing to character and voice. Buried in the section on character was an exercise involving garbology, the study of refu
se to learn more about a society. Burroway asks the writer to create a character sketch by describing the contents of that character’s trash. It’s a deep dive into psychoanalysis that is loads of fun. As I began to imagine Hugo, I used this exercise to flesh him out a bit, and then I thought, wouldn’t it be fun to give him a superpower like this to pave his way as the new kid? And so, Hugo became the Garbologist, Master Trasher, King of Compost, Wizard of Waste. Additional credit goes to Dan Aykroyd’s character in the film Sneakers for using the same method to do excellent spy work.
There are so many people at Atheneum Books for Young Readers and Simon & Schuster, that I need to thank, not just for this book, but all the books that have come before and the ones that will come after. Reka Simonsen, my editor, has made me not only a better writer, but also a smarter one. She understands my process and gives the kind of notes that I carry with me from one project to the next. Michelle Leo, Audrey Gibbons, Beth Parker, and Lisa Moraleda in publicity have successfully nudged me out the door and into the world to meet and greet. Amy Beaudoin, Sarah Woodruff, and the rest of the Education and Library Marketing team at S&S have worked tirelessly to get my books into the hands of librarians, teachers, and schools all around the country. Thank you.
Speaking of teachers and librarians—you all deserve endless rounds of applause! From book sharing groups on Twitter to YouTube and real-life book chats to insanely creative wall boards in your rooms and hallways, I am so grateful for all the ways you present books to kid readers. You are wonderful. Keep doing the good and hard work.
To Keely Boeving, my agent through nonfiction, fiction, film, and beyond: We are in this for the long haul. And for this book in particular, thanks for the insight into all things Colorado.
To my husband, Jody, and my three kiddos, Charlie, Jonas, and Cora: Thank you for always asking how the writing is going, even when what you really want to know is if the brownies in the kitchen are for you.
To my friends at Parnassus Books in Nashville: Thank you for supporting all my books and for filling your shop with people and dogs who get me.
Lastly, to all the kids who’ve ever been bullied: I’ve been there. It’s not fair. It’s also not your fault. Tell an adult you trust. And find your people, the ones who love you no matter what.
More from the Author
Tune It Out
Roll with It
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo courtesy of Bethany Rogers
JAMIE SUMNER is the author of the acclaimed novels Roll with It and Tune It Out. Her work has appeared in the New York Times, the Washington Post, and other publications. She loves stories that celebrate the grit and beauty in all kids. She and her family live in Nashville, Tennessee. Visit her at jamie-sumner.com.
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/kids
www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Jamie-Sumner
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster, New York
Also by Jamie Sumner
Roll with It
Tune It Out
ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text © 2021 by Jamie Sumner
Jacket illustration © 2021 by Karyn Lee
Jacket design by Karyn Lee © 2021 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Interior design by Karyn Lee
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Sumner, Jamie, author.
Title: One kid’s trash / Jamie Sumner.
Description: First edition. | New York : Atheneum Books for Young Readers, [2021] | Audience: Ages 10 and Up. | Summary: When his father moves them halfway across Colorado, eleven-year-old Hugo “Shorts” O’Donnell is surprised that his remarkable talent for garbology makes him popular for the first time in his life.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020046451 | ISBN 9781534457034 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534457058 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Bullying—Fiction. | Popularity—Fiction. | Middle schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Moving, Household—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S8545 One 2021 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020046451