But she couldn’t give up her ratchet.
WRITING EXERCISE: Write a summary report of a class or club meeting.
Dad’s Speech at the Last City Council Meeting
Dad stood at the microphone. He spat out words like he couldn’t stand the thought of what he was saying. “You people are downright destroying the planet for the kids you pretend to care about.”
Someone in the audience laughed. Dad shot him the “death look” (a look of disgust that would make the worst criminal crumble). The man slumped down in his seat.
Then Dad looked over the rims of his glasses like a crazy professor and went on. “Ocean acidification from too much carbon dioxide is already happening, and the warnings have been given by scientists about the risk of devastating our marine life and fisheries. And worse than that, higher levels of smog due to warmer temperatures potentially could increase respiratory illnesses.”
Dad shook his head and went on. “And you, Mayor Prindle, catapault yourself into the twenty-first century with your statement in today’s paper—‘Global Warming: There just might be something to it.’ It’s about time you buffoon.”
Dad grabbed his pile of crumpled notes from the podium, bumping the microphone and making a loud hollow sound before he walked back to his seat.
Pretty Boy Eddie said his usual comment to Dad in his usual smarmy way, and the next speaker in line looked like he wished he’d stayed home.
(Dad would be proud if he read this. Proud of himself.)
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
Dad is saving
The planet
For the Good Lord.
Sometimes
I wonder
If anyone
Is worried
About saving
Me.
!?
WRITING EXERCISE: Write about something that didn’t turn out the way you expected.
I dreaded helping Dad with the go-cart class. For obvious reasons. The teasing. The jokes. The boys. The teasing. The jokes. The boys. But something surprised me.
It’s not normal for me to know so much about engines. But it’s more un-normal for the boys to know so little. Most of them didn’t know a piston from a crankshaft. They didn’t know an adjustable wrench from a combination wrench. And forget about knowing how to use the tools. They were clueless. It was kind of embarrassing.
So when it came time to build their engines, the jokes came to a screeching halt. They needed too much help. Dad couldn’t help everyone at the same time; but when he was busy, I could help. So they all started being A LOT nicer to me. I didn’t trust them at first. Thought maybe they were planning some big prank. But when I saw that most of them didn’t even know which way to turn a screwdriver, I knew none of them were smart enough to be planning a prank AND building an engine.
They couldn’t believe I knew exactly how to do everything. I was living up to my nickname. Making everyone’s job easier.
All day long, it was, “Hey, Ratchet, can you c’mere a minute?”
“Hey, Ratchet, how do I get these oil rings on?”
“Hey, Ratchet, can you show me how to use this torque wrench?”
Even without Charlize’s tips for being charmed, I was getting noticed.
WRITING EXERCISE: Write a multiparagraph answer.
Writing Format—MULTIPARAGRAPH ANSWER: Thoughts organized into more than one complete paragraph in order to answer an essay question.
What did Dad find out about Moss Tree Park from Herman Moss’s niece?
Dad found out that Herman Moss has one relative still alive—a niece who lives in England. Dad thought she might know something about the park, so he found her number and called her.
She told Dad that every year on her birthday, she got a card from Uncle Herman with a photo of a tree that he planted in her name somewhere on one of his pieces of property. His card always said:
“Shade for man
And shelter for animals,
Planted in your name,
May you be the same for those around you,
Every year the same.”
She had saved all the photos and cards and still had them in a box.
She knew that when her uncle died, he had donated all the land he owned to different counties, and all that land had been made into parks. But she didn’t know anything specifically about Moss Tree Park.
Dad was hoping she would have some important family papers that would prove Mr. Moss didn’t want the park developed, but she didn’t. She said she was sorry and wished Dad good luck.
WRITING EXERCISE: Use a cycle diagram to illustrate a cycle of events.
Writing Format—CYCLE DIAGRAM: A diagram that shows the steps of a cycle in a visual way.
Subject: My Life
WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
You would think kids who want to build go-carts would be grateful to someone who’s trying to help them. But I never realized something really important.
BOYS ARE JERKS!
They only care about one thing. Themselves. And they’re JERKS!
They don’t respect anyone. And they’re JERKS.
They don’t even care if someone else gets in trouble for what they do. And do you know why? Because they’re JERKS!
Everything was going great. Well, maybe not great, but okay. The boys weren’t being such wise guys anymore because they were too busy trying to get their engines built. (Which none of them were getting much better at.) I was enjoying my popularity even though I knew it might not be for real. They’d still be making fun of me if they didn’t need my help so much, but I tried not to think about that.
Then, as a joke, someone in Dad’s class put grease on all the doorknobs at the rec center. No one could open any doors anywhere in the whole building. Some little kid in the arts and crafts class peed his pants because he couldn’t get the bathroom door open.
Cruella de Vil of course went ballistic and blamed Dad because his class is the only one that uses oil and grease. She said he should’ve controlled his class better. So now Dad’s in trouble. Cruella’s going to report him to Mr. Jenkins, the community service officer. They might even cancel the class.
If Dad has to do his community service hours picking up garbage instead of teaching this class, I’ll die for sure. That wouldn’t be too embarrassing, having Dad on the side of the road in one of those ugly orange vests. Ugh!
And all this is happening because boys are JERKS!
WRITING EXERCISE: Journal Writing. Choose from one of the six journal writing types.
Writing Format—LIFE EVENTS JOURNAL: A record of daily events, experiences, and observations, as well as some personal reflection.
Today the phone rang while Dad and I were flushing the transmission on a Ford. I turned down the radio and answered it.
It was Community Service Officer Jenkins looking for Dad.
All I could think was, this was it! He was calling to ask Dad’s size for the bright orange vest.
When Dad scooted out from under the minivan on the creeper he was lying on, I think he already knew who it was. He reached for the phone without even getting up.
I could tell from the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.
So when he handed the phone back to me, I asked what Officer Jenkins said.
That’s when Dad went into one of his usual rants. “What do you think he said? They found another teacher for the go-cart class, and now I’m gonna be working pollution pickup on the side of the road.
“If people didn’t treat the Good Lord’s green grass like it was the inside of a garbage can, there wouldn’t even be any trash to pick up. I’m sure Pretty Boy Eddie’s got something to do with this new ‘community service assignment,’ and as usual, he’s got everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. Those crazies down at the sheriff’s office have the backbone of a jellyfish.
They’re wasting more time worrying about punishing someone like me when I’m trying to educate the community about the ludicrous...”
Dad slid the creeper and himself back under the Ford and kept talking, but I couldn’t hear him until he rolled out again and said, “You know what, Ratchet?”
I knew whatever he was going to say I had heard at least a dozen times before, but I still said, “What?”
“Those idiots would spend their time rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. They don’t even have the sense to use the brains the Good Lord gave them.”
I was right. I had heard it all before. More than a dozen times. Probably more like a million.
“They want me to pick up garbage on the highway? I’ll pick up garbage on the highway, but if they think that’s going to stop me from fighting the crimes those fools at city hall commit every day when they allow developers to build schools and city buildings with windows facing the east and west, they’re on a quick trip to crazy. How energy inefficient are they trying to be? And now disgracing a good man like Herman Moss to build another strip mall, just so some fools can sell more plastic garbage. They really make me sick,” he added before he slid back under the car.
Then he slid back out again. “And you mark my words, Ratchet, you can be sure that crooked excuse for a man Eddie J. is planning to somehow line his pockets with green from this whole strip mall deal, and I’ll be doggoned if I’m going to let him tear down the riches the Good Lord gave this town to make himself a wealthy man.”
All this stuff matters to Dad, but the only thing that matters to me is that he’s going to be wearing an orange vest and picking up trash on the side of the highway in broad daylight where everyone will be able to see him.
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
The Only Thing Worse
The only thing worse
Than my life before,
Is my life now.
Because
Garbage smells worse
Than oil and grease.
Orange vests look worse
Than mechanic’s clothes.
And a community service criminal
Is even more fun to tease
Than a crazy mechanic.
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
The Only Thing Worse 2
The only thing worse
Than Dad’s crazy, embarrassing
Save-the-environment stunts
Is Dad just home from picking up trash.
Because he’s
Dirty
Smelly
Sunburned
And I know he’d never admit it
But I can tell.
He’s humiliated.
And even though
I hate being embarrassed,
Having Dad be embarrassed
Is even worse.
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
I biked to the Gas Gulp Mini-Mart today for a frozen drink and ran into Hunter, Evan, and a few other boys from the go-cart class.
“So how’s the jailbird doing?” Evan yelled when he saw me.
The other boys laughed. I wasn’t surprised that outside of class I was back to being noticed for all the wrong reasons.
I ignored them and went inside to get my drink.
By the time I came out, the cover girls had shown up. They must’ve already been learning a lot at the rec center because they looked more like Charlize than the last time I’d seen them. And whatever she was teaching them was working because the boys were definitely noticing them.
When Evan saw me, he said, “We’ll be sure to throw our candy wrappers on the ground so your dad doesn’t run out of things to pick up while he’s working the chain gang.”
Their laughter made me wish I’d never been noticed by anyone for anything at all.
I pedaled my bike hard and fast toward home wishing...
Wishing...
Wishing
I
Knew
What
To
Wish
For.
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
Dad always says
If the Good Lord wanted us to do this...
If the Good Lord wanted us to do that...
What I wonder is
Does the Good Lord
Care about us
As much as he cares about
The trees
And the grass
And the decisions made
At the city council meetings?
And if he does,
Wouldn’t he have made it harder
For someone’s feelings to get hurt?
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
The next day I biked to Mama Mack’s, the burger place in town, to get some dinner for Dad and me. The sky was getting dark, and I could smell rain, so I hurried. As bad luck would have it, when I got there, Hunter, Evan, and the group were outside. They were all crowded around one of their bikes. I hurried inside but not quick enough. I knew Hunter spotted me.
I ordered right away, paid, and headed back out to my bike with my food. Just as I put my bag into the milk crate on the back of my bike, there was a huge crack of thunder. The ground shook, and the restaurant windows rattled.
“Holy cow!” one of the boys said.
“Sorry, Evan, we’re out of here!” another boy said, getting on his bike.
The sky got darker and the wind picked up, but the rain still didn’t come. All the boys except Evan and Hunter rode away.
As I hopped on my bike, I realized that one of their bikes had a chain off the gear. Hunter and Evan were trying to put it back on with their fingers, but they were trying not to get their hands greasy. They were acting like the chain was a poisonous snake, and they were afraid to touch it. It looked like they had a better chance of getting struck by lightning than they had of getting that chain back on.
Another bolt of lightning and crack of thunder made us all jump. That’s when I saw Hunter glance at me. I hopped off my bike and walked over.
I told them if they could find a stick, I could fix it.
“Yeah, right,” Evan said.
Hunter looked around and grabbed a nearby stick on the ground under a bush and handed it to me. I put the stick inside the loop of the chain.
I told them to hold up the seat and get the rear wheel off the ground.
Evan did, and I pushed the pedal forward slowly, while I guided the chain back onto the gear with the stick. It clicked right into place.
Hunter smiled at me but didn’t say anything.
Evan just said, “Hot dog! Let’s go!” and hopped on his bike.
“Aren’t you even going to say thanks?” Hunter asked.
“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Evan said over his shoulder. “Surprised you didn’t get your hands greasy. Oh, yeah, they already are greasy, never mind!” Evan yelled as he pedaled away.
Hunter didn’t even turn around.
WRITING EXERCISE: Write step-by-step instructions for doing a common everyday task.
Directions for Removing Grease and Grime from Hands after Working in the Garage
1.Soak a rag in gasoline. Rub the rag over your hands, front and back. Caution: all your cuts and hangnails will hurt like crazy.
2.Take a palm full of Goop and rub front and back of hands, smoothing it all over.
3.Wash hands in laundry tub with Lava.
4.Repeat step three with Zest.
5.Wash hands again in kitchen sink with lemon-scented dish soap.
Note: If you follow these steps, your hands will technically be clean, but they won’t look or feel like it. There will still be dirt and grime in most of the creases and crevices of your hands. They will smell like Goop, which smells like evergreen-scented car air freshener and oil mixed together. They wi
ll feel like sandpaper.
Most likely, and most importantly, a boy would not ever want to hold one of these hands.
WRITING EXERCISE: Write a short scene or story demonstrating first-person point of view.
Writing Format—FIRST-PERSON POINT OF VIEW: A story written from the main character’s perspective.
I’m practically inside the huge cupboard under the sink in the laundry room looking for the hand lotion. I know it’s in here in a big, ugly, green bottle. Dad said he saw it not too long ago. I’m thinking if my hands can’t look good, maybe they can at least smell a little better than they do right now.
I’m wondering to myself: Where is that lotion? Why is there so much junk under here? And what is that weird smell?
Just when I’m ready to give up on having soft skin and sweet-smelling hands, I see something. The box. The one with the cardboard and tape melted together. The one Dad never opens. The one that I hope holds clues about Mom. And I feel like things seem softer and smell sweeter than they have in a long time.
I almost don’t hear Dad yell from the garage, “Did you find it?”
His voice reminds me that my hands still smell bad and look even worse. But I’m hoping that what’s inside the box will smooth out a lot more than rough skin.
“Not yet!” I yell back, answering my own question of when will I get to see what’s inside the box.
As soon as Dad is gone again, my “not yet” will be now.
WRITING EXERCISE: Write a modern day fable. Include a moral at the end.
Writing Format—FABLE: A fictitious story meant to teach a moral lesson; characters are usually talking animals.
One day a raccoon named Ratchet went to the rec center where her father RD once taught a class. She went to pick up some tools her father had left there. She was surprised when she arrived at her father’s old classroom to find all his raccoon students there. They were being taught by Evan’s older brother, Steve.
This Journal Belongs to Ratchet Page 4
