“The doors of wisdom are never shut.”
—Benjamin Franklin
“It isn’t where you came from;
it’s where you’re going that counts.”
—Ella Fitzgerald
Contents
Title Page
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
A Note from the Author
Teaser
Also Available
About the Author
Copyright
Thwak.
Thwak.
Thwak.
How many times had Jake Everdale punched his new baseball glove? A hundred? A thousand? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He’d keep hitting and thumping and squashing and squishing it until the brand-new glove was as broken-down—in all the right ways—as his old one. Jake was pretty sure that the stiff leather had finally started to give, which made him even more determined to keep at it. That’s why he was punching it in rhythm to his steps as he walked to school with his best friend, Emerson Lewis. The school day hadn’t even started yet, but Jake was already daydreaming about baseball practice that afternoon.
Thwak.
“You think Coach will let me pitch today?” Jake asked.
Thwak.
“Maybe,” Emerson replied. “He keeps putting you on third base, though. And third base is pretty important.”
Thwak.
A slight frown crossed Emerson’s face as he glanced over at Jake’s glove. “Why’d you get a new glove anyway?” he continued. “Your old one was perfect.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to lie to Emerson, but he couldn’t exactly tell the whole truth: A mini-figure of Sir Isaac Newton had come to life to help Jake with his science project, and ripped up Jake’s glove for one of his experiments.
It had all started when Jake made a wish at the old storm drain behind Franklin Elementary School. The kids called it the Wishing Well. According to legend, if you threw your most special belonging into the well, your wish would be granted.
Jake had been struggling in school for as long as he could remember, and it had gotten so bad that Mom and Dad were going to take away baseball if he didn’t get a good grade on his science project. Jake thought the Wishing Well was his only hope, but he couldn’t bear to give up his baseball card collection.
Instead, Jake threw in his Heroes of History action figures. Jake hoped that they were special enough since they’d been a gift from his aunt Margaret, who was the best neuroscientist in the world. But when the Wishing Well brought Sir Isaac and famous pilot Amelia Earhart to life, it almost caused more problems than it solved!
“I had some money saved up,” Jake finally said. It wasn’t really an answer to Emerson’s question, but by then they had reached school, and Emerson was distracted.
“Better put your glove away before Ms. Turner sees it,” Emerson told Jake as they entered the classroom. Jake wasn’t really listening, though. His attention had been captured by the box on Ms. Turner’s desk. It was glittering gold, with bright red question marks glued to the sides. Jake immediately wondered why it was there—and what was in it.
“Check it out,” Jake said, gesturing to the box.
“That’s new,” Emerson replied. “Do you know what it is?”
Jake shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Tell us something we don’t know, Everfail.”
Jake didn’t need to turn around to know who was speaking. Only Aiden Allen, the class know-it-all, called him Everfail instead of Everdale. It was no secret that Jake struggled in school—a lot. But nobody else seemed to enjoy his difficulty as much as Aiden did. Jake didn’t understand why Aiden hated him so much. Aiden was a great student. He could get all As in his sleep.
Jake could feel that familiar, uncomfortable redness creeping into his neck. He wished he had something to say—something that would make Aiden shut up for a change. But, like always, Jake was totally tongue-tied when Aiden started mocking him in front of everybody.
“I know exactly what’s in that box,” Aiden said loudly. “Doesn’t anybody remember what’s coming up?”
“You want to tell us or not?” Emerson asked.
Aiden paused for a long moment. “It’s for Living History Night, of course,” he announced.
The other kids started chattering excitedly. Living History Night was a big deal for the whole school—but especially for the fourth grade. Every year, each student was assigned an important person from history to research. They had to make a costume, find props, and prepare a first-person biographical speech. Then, on a special night, they had to give a presentation to the whole school—including all the teachers, their parents, and the principal!
“I hope I get Marie Curie,” Hannah said excitedly. “She was the coolest scientist ever. She discovered radioactivity!”
“Where would Spider-Man be without her?” Jake joked. “I hope I get a baseball player. I already have a uniform, so my costume would be all set.”
“A baseball player?” Aiden sneered. “Yeah, that sounds about your speed. But baseball doesn’t really have anything to do with history.”
“Are you kidding?” Emerson spoke up. “What about Jackie Robinson? Not only was he one of the greatest ballplayers in history, he ended segregation in baseball and he was a soldier during World War Two!”
Aiden ignored him.
“I know who I want,” he said, speaking over Emerson. “Benjamin Franklin. My brother was Franklin three years ago, so I already have the wig. And I even have a real copy of the Constitution on real parchment. It looks really old and official.”
Good for you, Jake thought. He glanced at the portrait of Benjamin Franklin that hung over Ms. Turner’s desk. Ben Franklin was smiling slightly, like he knew a secret. He looked like a pretty nice guy, actually … the exact opposite of Aiden.
“Don’t you think I’d be the perfect Franklin?” Aiden continued.
“I guess.” Hannah shrugged. “It’s a lot of work, though. You don’t just have to do your own project—you have to be in charge of the whole show. You’d be, like, the host.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Aiden asked. “It’s the most important role in the whole show. Ms. Turner has probably already picked the person who gets to be Franklin. I just hope it’s me.”
“But it’s a random drawing,” Jake pointed out.
Aiden gave him a withering look. “Do you really think Ms. Turner is going to leave something so important up to chance?” he asked. “A lousy Franklin will make the whole night a giant fail.”
Just then, Ms. Turner entered the room, right as the bell rang.
“Glove!” Emerson reminded Jake.
Jake shoved his baseball glove in his backpack as all the students scurried to their seats. From the middle of the front row, Jake had a better view of the mysterious box than anybody.
“Good morning, class!” Ms. Turner said.
“Good morning,” everyone replied.
A smile crossed Ms. Turner’s face as she picked up the box. “I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s in here,” she began.
Jake could imagine Aiden’s hand shooting into the air behind him. Sure enough, Ms. Turner called on him.
“Is it names for Living History Night?” Aiden asked.
“That’s right!” Ms. Turner replied. “For the last four years, you’ve all watched Living History Night from the audience. At last, it’s your time to shine!”
&nb
sp; Jake glanced out the window. It was a perfect day, with bright sunshine and a gentle breeze blowing puffy white clouds across the sky. Jake’s thoughts drifted back to baseball practice later that afternoon. He could almost feel the metal bat in his hands and the sun glinting off his batting helmet.
Ms. Turner was still talking, though, so Jake tried to pay attention.
“A few rules,” she was saying. “You will pick one name, and one name only. No do-overs, no trades, no swaps, no special requests. Got it?”
“Got it,” the class replied in unison.
“And, of course, the student who pulls Benjamin Franklin will have a few extra responsibilities,” Ms. Turner continued. “Now, I have written copies of the instructions here. Don’t forget to take one when you choose your name. Elizabeth!”
Jake straightened in his seat. Ms. Turner was starting with the front row—which meant in just a moment, he’d be choosing a name from the box.
Elizabeth seemed pleased with her pick. Her curls bounced as she bounded back to her seat.
“Marco,” Ms. Turner said.
Jake’s turn was next. His heart was hammering and his palms were all sweaty. It was almost as nerve-racking as going up to bat with the bases loaded.
Almost.
“Jake!”
Jake stood up and walked to Ms. Turner’s desk. He closed his eyes and reached into the box. The slips of paper rustled under his fingertips, as if they were trying to whisper the names written on them.
Please Jackie Robinson. Please Babe Ruth. Please Hank Aaron, Jake thought as he chose one of the slips. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath as he unfolded the scrap of paper.
BENJAMIN
FRANKLIN
“No!” Jake yelped.
“Is there a problem, Jake?” Ms. Turner asked.
“Yes! I mean—no!” Jake replied in a panic. The other students giggled, which only made Jake feel worse. He slunk back to his seat, wishing he could bolt out the door instead. But Jake didn’t have time for daydreams right now. He had to figure out a way to ditch Franklin and get a smaller—and easier—role for Living History Night.
Ms. Turner knows how important the Franklin role is, he reminded himself. She doesn’t want Living History Night to be a disaster. There’s no way she’ll let the worst student have the most important role.
Jake’s hand shot into the air.
“Yes, Jake?” Ms. Turner said.
Jake hurried up to her desk. “Ms. Turner, there was a big mistake,” he whispered. “I accidentally pulled Franklin.”
He held out the slip of paper, but Ms. Turner didn’t even glance at it. “Did you!” she exclaimed, all too cheerfully. “Congratulations, Jake! I know you’ll be an excellent Benjamin Franklin.”
Jake blinked. “But—” he faltered. “But I heard that the person who plays Franklin is specially chosen,” Jake continued. “Just to make sure that they’ll do a great job. And, you know, Aiden really, really wants it. And he’s amazing at, like, everything. We could just trade and—”
Ms. Turner held up her hand. “Let me stop you right there,” she said. “We’ve never assigned the role of Franklin, so that rumor is officially untrue.”
Great, Jake thought. The one time in his whole life Aiden has the wrong answer.
“Jake, I think you’re going to be an excellent Franklin,” Ms. Turner said. “Will it be challenging? Sure. But I think—no, I know—that you’re up for it.”
Jake tried to manage a smile. He wished he could be as confident as Ms. Turner.
“Plus, the student who plays Franklin has the opportunity to earn extra credit,” Ms. Turner continued. “I know you’ve asked about that before. Here you go—there’s more information in this special handout.”
From the way Ms. Turner handed Jake the extra assignment, Jake could tell the conversation was over.
* * *
Jake’s day only got worse from there. There were Tater Tots at lunch, but Jake could barely enjoy them as everyone chatted excitedly about their historical figures. Aiden was going on and on about his pick—Napoleon Bonaparte—as if he’d never wanted to choose Franklin. Emerson had lucked out and picked Jackie Robinson! Jake was happy for his best friend—and a little jealous. Picking a ballplayer for Living History Night was like hitting a homework home run.
“What about you, Jake?” Hannah asked. “Who did you get?”
Everyone at the lunch table turned to look at him.
Jake swallowed unexpectedly; a half-chewed Tater Tot got stuck in his throat and made him start coughing. Emerson whacked him on the back a couple times. That only made more people stare.
“Franklin,” Jake finally choked out. “I got Franklin.”
For a moment, nobody said anything.
“Whoa,” Sebastian said.
“That’s great!” Hannah said loudly. “You’re going to be a great Franklin. In fact—”
A loud, mean laugh interrupted her. It sounded like a cross between a sick seal and a truck backfiring.
“Look at the bright side, Jake,” Aiden announced. “No matter how bad you fail, it’s only one night. It will just live in everyone’s memories forever.”
* * *
After baseball practice, Jake went right home to get started on his project. But how?
Jake glanced over at the dollhouse in the corner of his room. Technically, it belonged to his little sister, Julia. But as soon as she’d met the miniature Sir Isaac, she’d insisted on moving it into Jake’s room. Sir Isaac and Miss Earhart had been gone for a couple of weeks now. It was clear they weren’t coming back.
But Julia hadn’t taken the dollhouse back to her own room. And whenever Jake thought about Sir Isaac and Miss Earhart, he didn’t want her to … just in case.
Jake rummaged around in his backpack until he found the Living History Night assignment, including the extra information for his Benjamin Franklin role.
CONGRATULATIONS!
BY PLAYING THE PART OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, YOU’LL HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT ROLE IN LIVING HISTORY NIGHT. IN ADDITION TO YOUR SPEECH AS BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, YOU WILL PREPARE AN INTRODUCTION AND CONCLUDING REMARKS FOR THE PRESENTATION. YOU WILL ALSO INTRODUCE EACH HISTORICAL FIGURE. THIS ROLE SHOULD BE EQUAL PARTS INFORMATIVE AND ENTERTAINING. BE ACCURATE. BE CREATIVE. AND MOST OF ALL, HAVE FUN!
Have fun? Jake wondered incredulously. Was Ms. Turner trying to be funny?
Jake read over the instructions again, then shook his head in dismay. There was no way he could pull it off. The project was way too hard—way too much work—way too much pressure—
Jake didn’t even know where to begin.
Well, actually … maybe he did know where to begin.
Jake glanced back at the dollhouse. Would the Wishing Well grant his next wish—or was it one and done?
There was only one way to find out.
Jake took a deep breath and grabbed onto the edge of his desk so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“I wish …” he whispered, “I wish for extra help.”
POP!
Jake should’ve been prepared for what happened next: the small but scary explosion, the sudden cloud of smoke, the fiery sparks that blazed without burning. But he jumped up anyway, waving his arms like a windmill to clear the smoke before it could waft toward the smoke alarm. He could already hear his dog, Flapjack, howling outside the door, and Mom calling, “What’s wrong, Flapjack?”
Jake stared at his desk, transfixed, as the smoke began to clear. There was a tiny person, just three inches tall, standing on the Living History Night assignment. Even through the haze, Jake could tell that she was all dressed up in a long velvet gown, with a fancy stole wrapped around her shoulders. Her glossy black hair was swept back in an elegant style. Long strands of moonlight-colored pearls were draped around her neck, the perfect complement to her dark skin. The woman glanced from side to side, a bright curiosity lighting up her eyes.
“Now I know I’m supposed to enter stage left,” she
said, almost to herself, “but I’ve never seen a backstage as cluttered as this one.”
“H-hello,” Jake said. “I’m—I’m Jake.”
The woman peered up at him. If she was alarmed at the sight of a giant boy who towered over her, she didn’t show it.
“Well, hello, young man!” the woman said in a voice that was as elegant as her outfit. “I’m Ella Fitzgerald and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Ella Fitzgerald, Ella Fitzgerald, Ella Fitzgerald, Jake silently repeated the name to himself. It was kind of familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before. It seemed rude to ask Ms. Fitzgerald outright, so Jake snuck a glance at the brochure that had come with his Heroes of History figurines.
Ella Fitzgerald
1917–1996, United States
This Hero of History was known as the “First
Lady of Song” for her incredible voice and
contributions to the field of music.
“You must have been born into a theater family,” Ms. Fitzgerald said. “Young stagehands such as yourself have the performing arts running in their blood. Are your parents musicians? Actors? Or are they behind-the-scenes folks?”
“Uh …” Jake paused. His thoughts were swirling more wildly than a tornado, and he couldn’t figure out which one to focus on first. Ms. Fitzgerald seemed ready to perform onstage … and she thought that Jake worked in a theater …
But most of all, Jake couldn’t figure out why Ella Fitzgerald, a famous singer, had been sent to help him with his Living History Night project. Did the Wishing Well—or whatever was in charge—think he was going to put on some kind of Benjamin Franklin–themed song and dance? The answer to that question was absolutely, positively, no way, never! Jake’s voice was so bad he didn’t even sing in the shower.
“Young man?” Ms. Fitzgerald said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”
“Errr …” Jake said. He had to think fast—and hope he said the right thing. “I’m sorry, Ms. Fitzgerald, but … well … the concert has been canceled.”
Jake bit his lower lip, worried that Ms. Fitzgerald would throw a diva-sized fit. But to his surprise, she threw back her head and laughed.
Set the Stage! Page 1