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For the nonreaders
who became readers
Youth is wasted on the young.
—George Bernard Shaw
I disagree.
—Charlie Joe Jackson
INTRODUCTION
My name is Charlie Joe Jackson, and I used to hate reading.
Guess what? Now I hate it a little less. (Let’s keep that between us.)
I guess that’s what they call part of “the maturing process.”
Which brings us to the topic of this book.
Growing up.
I used to be all for it. I used to think the idea of being an adult was totally awesome—I could drive a car, and play video games whenever I wanted, and watch movies that my parents won’t let me watch now.
But then one day I realized—that’s crazy. What was I thinking?
And when I say “one day,” I mean, one actual day.
The day I realized that being a kid was the best job in the world.
The day I decided to not grow up.
I had to act fast, because it was already happening. I was getting older, and I was about to lose the most carefree part of my life. Forever!
You don’t have to tell me it was a crazy idea, I know that already. Childhood is fleeting, nothing lasts forever—blah blah blah. Trying to stop time is impossible, right?
Wrong.
When it came to growing up, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
* * *
So anyway, not like I’m making excuses or anything, but hopefully that helps explain why, at exactly 5:51 on a lovely spring evening, there was a graduation ceremony happening at Eastport Middle School, with 183 students scheduled to graduate, but only 182 of them were present.
Want to guess who was missing?
Yup. You got it. Me.
Instead, there I was, sitting in a dark room by myself, wondering what the heck happened—and if it was somehow my fault, as usual.
There was a knock on the door.
“Charlie Joe? Are you in there?”
I closed my eyes and sighed. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to see anybody right at that moment.
Oh, yeah—one more thing I forgot to mention.
It was my birthday.
Part One
LET’S GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING, SHALL WE?
1
8:49 am
“Yes!” I said to myself, as my eyes opened for the first time that morning.
Which, I can honestly say, had never happened before. Usually, the first words I say when I wake up are “Go away,” and it comes out sounding more like “Murfleblorg.”
But this was a morning different from any other. This, people, was a morning that I had been looking forward to ever since my mother first dragged me kicking and screaming to the school bus way back when. (I think you can still see the skid marks from my shoes at the bus stop.)
First of all, like I said, it was my birthday. Already a reason to celebrate, right?
But there was more—much, much more. Because this was the morning of the day I was graduating from Eastport Middle School. The first day of the rest of my life. The day I put the past behind me—all my crazy behavior and silly ideas and goofy troublemaking ways—and started acting like a mature person.
Or not.
I flipped over on the bed and reached for my phone, which was charging on the nightstand. I liked to sleep with my phone close by, and by close by, I mean approximately three inches away.
I texted my friend group—which included Timmy, Jake, Pete, and Nareem—two simple words: Today! Yeah!
Timmy texted back: See you at Jakes noon.
Nareem texted back: Very much looking forward to it.
Pete texted back: Rockin’ high school baby.
Jake texted back: If you guys break anything in my house i’ll kill you.
I was about to settle in for a nice long text war when there was a soft knock on the door.
“Honey?”
My mom poked her head in. She had a big blue balloon in her hand.
“Oh, hey, Mom,” I said, putting my phone away. I didn’t need her to start in with the you’re-on-that-thing-too-much speech. There would be plenty of time for that later in the day. And for the rest of my life.
She kissed me on the cheek. “Happy birthday! Can you believe it? A birthday and a graduation all in one day!”
“Totally!” I said. “Although I do feel like I’m kind of getting ripped off. It would be nice to spread them out a little bit.”
“I get that,” Mom said.
I sat up in bed. “But, yeah, this is basically the best day of my life. No more middle school!”
“I thought you liked middle school.”
“I guess so,” I said, shrugging. Sometimes it’s hard to explain to parents that you can like something but still want to never do it again. Sure, middle school was fun, but by the end, enough was enough, right? Time to move on.
“I better get going,” I added, stretching. “Lots to do.” But my mom wasn’t moving. She was just sitting there, on the edge of my bed. This was weird—usually she had to beg me just to get up.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Like I said, I think I should probably get up.”
She sighed. “It all goes by so fast.”
“What does?”
“All of it.” Then she took a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose, which was also weird, since she never has a runny nose. “Megan’s about to go to college. You’re going off to high school. And you were both born yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
She smacked me on the head with a pillow. “Not literally yesterday,” she said. “You’re too young to get it, but time … you blink and the years fly by, just like that.”
That was when I realized that my mom was blowing her nose because she was crying a little bit.
“Don’t be sad!” I said. “I’m not going anywhere! And neither is Megan! We love home! Home is awesome!”
“I know, sweetheart.” She smiled, but it seemed like part of the smile wasn’t actually there. “It’s just that these big milestone days, they’re not easy on a mother. It was hard your first day of kindergarten, and it’s hard now.” She wiped her eyes one last time, then got up and went to the door. “See you downstairs, birthday-graduation boy.”
After she left my room, I decided to close my eyes for just a few more minutes. I couldn’t believe my mom was talking as if my first day of kindergarten had just happened. I could barely remember it at all …
* * *
FLASHBACK!!
“MOM! I CAN’T FIND MY LEFT SNEAKER!”
Young Charlie Joe Jackson was already late for his first day of kindergarten.
He stormed i
nto the kitchen.
“I’M NOT GOING WITHOUT MY LEFT SNEAKER!”
“It was just in your room,” his mother said, shaking her head. She knew what the real problem was. She knew he didn’t want to go to school at all.
Together, they marched up to his room.
“SEE?” he announced. “IT’S NOT HERE!”
Without a word, his mother walked over to the closet, moved the toys, picked up the clothes, kicked away the balls, reached down, and pulled out a single blue shoe.
“Well what do you know?” she said. “Here it is.”
Charlie Joe took one look at the shoe and burst out crying. “I CAN’T FIND MY FAVORITE SOCKS!”
After ten more minutes of crying, whining, and trying to make almost everything he owned disappear, Charlie Joe Jackson reluctantly walked with his mother and father to the bus stop.
“Are you coming with me to school?” he asked.
“No,” they said.
“WHY NOT?!” he asked.
“Because school is only for children,” his mother said.
At the bus stop, several other children were also waiting, including Charlie Joe’s neighbor, Timmy McGibney. Charlie Joe and Timmy didn’t know each other very well, and they didn’t like each other very much. Charlie Joe thought Timmy was irritating. Timmy thought Charlie Joe was annoying.
“Say hello to Timmy,” Mrs. Jackson told Charlie Joe.
“Hello,” said Charlie Joe—but he said it to the ground, not to Timmy.
“Say hello to Charlie Joe,” said Timmy’s mother.
Timmy just grunted.
The bus came, and a lady got out. She had a vest that said BUS MONITOR on it.
“Okay, kids, this is it!” she announced. “Time to make it happen! This is going to be the most fun day ever!”
Charlie Joe burst into tears.
“I’M NOT GOING! I HATE SCHOOL!”
His parents gently guided him toward the bus, but he wasn’t making it easy for them.
All the other kids turned and watched. So did all the other parents, even though they pretended not to.
“SCHOOL IS FULL OF BOOKS AND OTHER TERRIBLE THINGS!” wailed Charlie Joe.
Finally, after much pulling, pushing, begging, and promising of after-school ice cream treats, Charlie Joe got on the bus.
“I just want you both to know that I will never forgive you,” he told his parents.
A single tear ran down his mom’s cheek as the bus drove away, while his dad kept waving long after the bus had drifted out of sight.
Finally, Charlie Joe’s parents looked at each other.
“I thought that went well,” his dad said.
* * *
2
9:12 am
I was still lying in bed when I heard eight legs charging down the hall.
“Moose! Coco!”
My two favorite people in the whole world—even though they’re not technically people—rounded the corner into my room.
“Get up!” they said with their tails. “Get up now!”
So I did, kind of. I got up, but then I fell down onto the floor and let them jump on top of me like they did every morning.
It’s the best way to wake up, by the way. I highly recommend it.
After two minutes, though, I noticed that Moose was watching more than playing. He’d been doing that a lot lately.
“You are so lazy,” I told him. He answered me with a single thump of his huge tail. He knew that I knew he wasn’t lazy. Moose was just getting old. It happens young with dogs.
“Let’s go downstairs, you guys,” I told them, and they followed me into the kitchen. My sister, Megan, was already there, scarfing down her breakfast. You know how you hear about those girls who are obsessed with their weight and don’t eat enough? Megan wasn’t one of those girls.
“Jeez, save some for the rest of the country,” I told her.
Her answer was to open her mouth wide, revealing a soggy mountain of partially chewed scrambled eggs.
I gagged. “Eeeew!”
She opened her mouth wider. “Happy birthday, baby brother!”
“You are beyond gross!”
“You are beyond annoying!”
My mom immediately went into peacemaker mode, which she actually didn’t have to do all that often, because believe it or not, I really like my older sister. “Honey, I’m making your birthday breakfast specialty,” my mom said.
I felt my mouth start to twitch. “Wait. Chocolate chip pancakes?”
“Yup.”
“Sweeeeet!” I poured myself a glass of milk to get ready.
My mom sipped her coffee. “Megan was just telling me about her summer job.”
Ack! Summer job? That sounds like one of those oxymorons teachers keep telling us about. Like jumbo shrimp. Or good book.
“What kind of job?” I asked.
I waited while Megan took a ten-second swig of orange juice. “I’m working at the yoga place as a babysitter.”
I snorted. “Oh. I thought by job, you meant, like, actual job. As opposed to lying on a couch texting your friends while some kiddies watch Sesame Street.”
Megan was about to throw a piece of toast at me, but my mom stopped her. “That’s not fair, Charlie Joe, and you know it,” Mom said. “Looking after children is very hard work.” She shot me a look. “I should know.”
“Yeah,” said Megan. “And what about you? You’re graduating middle school; that means soon you’ll be old enough to get a job, too, so watch it.”
“Never!” I said. “I’m never going to have a summer job. And if I do, it will be at a summer camp, teaching napping.”
“Well, you’re very good at that,” my mom agreed.
The oven dinged.
“Ah, the muffins,” said my mom. “Charlie Joe, I’m going to need you to bring these across the street to the new neighbor.”
Noooo! First I had to deal with talk of a summer job, and now I’m supposed to bring muffins to some strange old man who just moved in across the street?
“On my birthday? Why?”
“Because it’s the nice thing to do, that’s why.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, why do you have to be so nice all the time?” I whined. “The rest of us have to pay the price.”
“Come on, it’s not going to kill you,” she said. “He seems very friendly. Someone told me he’s a writer.”
“Now Charlie Joe is definitely not going,” Megan said, between forkfuls.
“Can I bring the dogs?” I asked.
“No, you can’t bring the dogs,” answered my mom. “Stop asking if you can bring the dogs everywhere you go. Normal people don’t do that.”
“Dad does,” I reminded her.
“My point exactly,” she said.
3
10:18 am
The house across the street used to be occupied by the Kellys. Audrey Kelly, who was a few years older than Megan, wanted to be an actress. Actually, it was her mom, Eileen, who really wanted Audrey to be an actress. They decided to move to New York City to be closer to all the agents and people like that. On the day they left, we were waving goodbye when my dad said to my mom, “Should we tell them that Audrey has no talent?” My mom thought for a second and said, “It might be a little too late for that.”
They ended up selling the house to this older guy. I’d only seen him once, through a window, watching a giant TV. But now, here I was, ringing his doorbell with a plate of muffins in my hand.
The door opened. The man looked even older in person.
“Yes?”
“Uh, hello, sir. My name is Charlie Joe Jackson. We live across the street. My mother made muffins for you.”
The man peered at me through thick glasses. For a second, I thought he was going to tell me to scram, because you always think that old people are going to tell you to scram. But instead, he broke out into a big smile.
“Well, that’s mighty kind of your mom,” he said. “My name’s Ted. Would you like to
come in for a short minute?”
I had to decide whether to be honest or be polite. “Uh, okay, sure,” I said. My mother would have been proud. But she wasn’t even there to see it. What a waste.
We went into Ted’s kitchen, where he poured me a glass of juice. “Seems like a fine neighborhood,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s great.” I took a sip. “Do you have kids or anything? I mean, most people who live around here have kids.”
Ted sat down next to me with an old-man sigh. “Well, yes I do, but they’re older,” he said. “In fact, they have kids of their own. That’s the whole reason I bought this house. It’s nice and small, so I can manage it, but I’ve also got a yard, and a neighborhood full of kids, for when my grandchildren come visit.”
I nodded. “That makes sense. All I know is, my parents are glad you moved in, because they were really worried someone was going to tear this house down and build one of those ridiculously huge, gross mansions.”
“Not me.” Ted chuckled. He got up and brought a bowl of grapes over to the table. We each helped ourselves. “So tell me, young man, how old are you?”
My phone buzzed. “Sorry,” I said to Ted, as I checked it.
“Quite all right,” he said, laughing softly. “I’m used to it.”
It was a text from Katie Friedman: just found out, no swimming today at Jake’s party! I texted back: It’s all Jake’s mom’s fault.
I put my phone away. “That was my girlfriend, Katie.” I still felt a little proud whenever I said that, even though we’d been going out for a while. “We’re going to a barbecue later at my friend’s house to celebrate graduating from middle school.”
“Middle school!” said Ted, clapping his hands together. “Wow.”
“I know, I can’t wait,” I said.
Ted frowned. “You can’t wait for what?”
“To graduate,” I explained. “To go to high school. I mean, I’m a little nervous I guess, but it’s going to be so cool being with the older kids!”
Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up Page 1
