Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up

by Tommy Greenwald

  I closed my eyes and sighed. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to see anybody right then. Sitting there with Moose was the most relaxed I’d felt all day.

  “We have a surprise for you!” called my mom.

  “In here.” I called back. I rubbed my eyes, got up, and opened the door.

  Then I rubbed my eyes again. Not because I was tired—because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  My parents were standing there. And behind them were about twenty kids from my class.

  Timmy, Katie, Jake, Pete, Hannah, Eliza, Nareem, Phil, Celia, Mareli, Erica, Emory—the whole gang, and then some. They were all there.

  My sister, Megan, was there, too, holding Coco on a leash.

  I blinked a few times, as if I were seeing things. But everyone was still there.

  “What—what’s going on?”

  My mom was smiling. “What do you mean? Last I checked, it was your birthday, and birthdays demand parties, don’t they?”

  “I guess,” I said. I was just standing there, not moving, staring at my friends. “But—what are you guys doing here?”

  “This was Katie’s idea,” my dad said. “She wanted to come.”

  “You did?” I asked her.

  Katie stepped forward. “I thought all of us should graduate as a group,” she said. “We’ve been together for so long, we should stick together until the end, don’t you think?”

  “I do think.” I hugged her. “But what about everybody’s parents?”

  “We told them we’d be back by six-fifteen,” Hannah said. “They’ll survive.”

  “Except for my mom,” Jake chimed in.

  Everyone laughed, as my mom emerged with a birthday cake.

  “Charlie Joe,” she said, “it’s your birthday, but you gave me a present today.”

  I tried to think back. The only thing I remembered was making her mad at Jake’s picnic. “I did?”

  “Yes, you did,” she said. “I realized something after you left with Dad for the hospital. I realized that you have grown up today. By making your own decision, by deciding to come here with Moose, and take care of him, and be with him, and by sacrificing going to your own graduation, you have shown me that you’re not just a little boy anymore.” She wiped away a tear. “You’re a mature young man.”

  I noticed some of the people who worked there, including the doctors, were watching us. Even a little pug with a cast on one of its legs seemed curious.

  “We’re very proud of you,” my dad added. “Happy birthday, son.”

  I took a deep breath. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

  They hugged me, and everyone started singing. “Happy birthday to you … Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Charlie Joe … Happy birthday to you!”

  I made a wish, took a deep breath, and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered. I felt as good as I had all day.

  Then Dr. Dixon came back into the room.

  17

  5:57 pm

  It’s easy to say that some things are silly.

  Believing in the tooth fairy is silly. Thinking there’s a man on the moon is silly. Santa Claus? Not silly. There definitely IS a Santa Claus.

  You know what else I used to think was silly? Thinking that wishes you made while blowing out candles on a birthday cake came true.

  But that was before Dr. Dixon walked into the room at the animal hospital and said the four best words I’ve ever heard in my life.

  “I have good news.”

  My mom squeezed my hand, and I heard my dad let out a huge breath of relief. “Go on,” he said.

  “Well, you may not believe this,” said Dr. Dixon, “but labs like to eat.” She paused, expecting us to laugh at her kind of lame joke, so we did. “And sometimes they eat things they’re not supposed to eat.” I saw my sister shoot a quick glance at me, and I immediately looked down.

  Dr. Dixon went over to Moose and pretended to draw a circle on his stomach. “We caught something on an ultrasound that looks like a small plastic ring, which is clogging up his small intestine. That’s why he’s lost his appetite and gotten lethargic. Now, this is something that we’re going to have to get out right away, so we’re going to go into surgery immediately. But I expect Moose to make a full recovery. You can even visit him later tonight, if you want.”

  A huge cheer went up around the room. I raised my hand. “Wait, so when did Moose eat this ring? Was it, like, today?”

  “Oh, definitely not,” said the doctor. “Some time in the last week, I’d guess.”

  I wasn’t done. “Could this happen from human food?”

  Dr. Dixon laughed. “Absolutely not. I give my dog human treats all the time. Not too much, of course, but every once in a while it’s just fine.” I felt my whole body fill with relief. “It’s those garbage cans you have to look out for,” added the doctor. “That’s where the danger lies. But Moose will be just fine.”

  “YES!” I said, pumping my fist. “Moose is going to be okay!” I hugged my parents, hugged Katie, and high-fived everyone else who was there. Then I gave Moose a gentle little ear scratch, which made him groggily open one eye to see what all the craziness was about. Then he went back to sleep.

  I was slapping hands with Phil Manning (which is always a painful proposition, because he has the strongest hands in the Northeastern part of the United States), when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  I turned around. “What’s up, Mom?”

  She tapped her watch. “We should get going.”

  “Get going? Where?”

  She kissed me on the top of my forehead and smiled.

  “I believe you have someplace to be.”

  18

  6:18 pm

  The graduation ceremony at Eastport Middle School always takes place on the soccer field behind the parking lot, unless the weather’s bad, in which case it happens in the gym. But this was a beautiful spring day, so the chairs were spread out all across the field, and the little stage was set up down by where one of the goals was supposed to be.

  By the time we got there, the ceremony was already under way. The other kids and I who were late were supposed to sit up front with the rest of our class, so we took our seats as quickly and quietly as possible, while Mrs. Sleep was saying something like, “This class of students really reminded me how rewarding it is to be an educator. They are truly special.”

  I’m sure she says that every graduating class is “truly special,” but who’s counting?

  Mrs. Sleep looked up and saw us come in. Then she said, “One reason this class is so special is how much they look out for each other. It looked like one of our students wouldn’t be able to come to graduation because of a family emergency, and his many friends decided to join him and help him, and risk their own ability to be here. That says something about you all, and it makes me very proud.” She smiled down at us, and I actually felt a warm glow inside. She paused, then adjusted her incredibly thick glasses. “And now, I’d like to introduce our special guest speaker. He is relatively new to Eastport, having moved here not long ago to be near his grandchildren, who are also in our school system. We are so honored and privileged to have him here with us today, because he has taught our young children so much with his books, which are both extremely entertaining and highly educational. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Ted Hauser.”

  A man got up from behind the stage and came up to the microphone. From where I was sitting, I could tell he looked really familiar, but at first I wasn’t sure why. Then, two seconds later, it hit me. Ted Hauser was “Ted,” our new neighbor I’d met earlier that day! And he was speaking at my middle-school graduation!

  “Thanks to Mrs. Sleep and the entire Eastport Middle School community for having me,” Ted began. “I’ve just moved here, but already I feel like I’m home. I remember back when…”

  My mind started wandering, the way it often does when adults are speaking. I was thinking about the name Ted Hauser. Ted Hauser, Ted Hauser … Why did it sou
nd familiar?

  “… which is why I was so struck by the young man who visited me this morning. My new neighbor, Charlie Joe.”

  Huh? Wha?

  All eyes turned to me. I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I waved. Ted waved back.

  “Charlie Joe was telling me that he couldn’t wait to graduate from middle school,” Ted went on. “He was so excited to start high school, and get on with his life. And I kidded around with him, saying well, not so fast, son. There’s something perfect about being young. What’s better than being a kid, right?” He winked at me. “But as the day went on, I thought about that conversation. And I realized, you know something? I was wrong. I’m here to tell you, there is one thing that’s better than being young. And that’s getting older, and growing up, and finding your place in the world, maybe starting a family of your own, and contributing to society. Do you know why that’s better than being young? Because that’s the journey of life. And that’s the best journey in the whole world.”

  Ted stopped for a second, and I could hear something. It was silence. It was the silence of a hundred and eighty kids listening carefully to an adult.

  That’s something you don’t hear very often.

  “It’s true, I write books for kids,” Ted said. “I hope that you like them and think they’re fun and funny, because to me, there’s nothing better than entertaining young people.” Ted was looking straight at me. “I know there are some of you out there who don’t like to read very much. That’s totally fine. That doesn’t make you any less awesome than the other kids who do like to read. But I will say that reading is a terrific way to expand your enjoyment on this journey of life.”

  Ted paused for a second. “Charlie Joe, would you come up here for a quick minute?”

  Oh, jeez.

  I hesitated, until Katie and Timmy pushed me out of my seat. I slowly walked up to the stage, climbed up the few steps, and shook Ted’s hand.

  “Nice to see you again,” Ted said to me.

  “You, too,” I mumbled.

  He reached below him and pulled out a book. “Remember I said I might see you later on today, where I could give you a gift for your birthday? Well, here we are, and here you go. This is a book called Billy’s Bargain. It’s a simple little sports book, about a boy who wants to be a great pitcher. I wrote it almost twenty-five years ago, but it’s still being read by kids today. That, to me, is the greatest contribution to society I could ever make.” He looked out into the audience. “So Charlie Joe, and all you kids, as you think about what your own lives are going to be like, I ask you to remember this one thing: Growing up isn’t just part of life.” He handed me the book, then shook my hand.

  “It is life.”

  The crowd starting applauding as Ted waved to the audience and said, “I signed the book for you.”

  I looked inside. He’d written: Enjoy your journey. Your friend, Ted. P.S. Tell your mom the muffins were delicious.

  “I will,” I told him. “Thank you.”

  Ted shook Mrs. Sleep’s hand and sat down. As I headed back to my own seat, I stared down at the book in my hand, and slowly the whole thing started to make sense. That’s why I knew the name Ted Hauser! Billy’s Bargain! That was the book that got me in trouble … the book that ended my special “arrangement” with Timmy …

  That was the book that changed everything.

  * * *

  FLASHBACK!!

  By the time young Charlie Joe Jackson started middle school, he was doing very nicely indeed. He had lots of friends—even a few friends who were girls—and was well liked by both students and teachers. And he really enjoyed school, too, except for one small part.

  Reading.

  Charlie Joe really did not like reading at all. He found it a total waste of time. No one could convince him otherwise: Not his parents, not his teachers, not even his good friend Jake Katz, who read everything in sight.

  “Some people like reading, and some people don’t,” Charlie Joe would say. “I’m one of those people who don’t.”

  All this was well and good during elementary school, when the students didn’t have to read all that much. But now that Charlie Joe was in middle school, not reading was beginning to become a problem. There were actual books that had to be read—and a lot of them.

  One day at lunch, Charlie Joe and his friends were discussing the book that had just been assigned in English class. It was called Tuck Everlasting.

  “Charlie Joe, are you going to read the book?” asked Katie Friedman, with a smile. She knew the answer—in fact, everyone did.

  “Of course not,” Charlie Joe responded.

  “You are going to get in so much trouble,” said Eliza Collins. She loved to start fights with Charlie Joe, because she had a crush on him. “The teachers are going to find out you don’t do any of the reading and they’re going to keep you after school.”

  “Fat chance,” said Charlie Joe. But secretly, he was worried. He knew that he couldn’t just go on not reading the books forever. He needed a plan.

  Just then, Timmy McGibney came up to the table and threw his backpack down. “Hey, anybody got any money? I could really go for an ice cream sandwich, but I’m like, twenty-five cents short.” Everyone shook their heads, not just to say no, but also because they were annoyed. Timmy was a total moocher.

  “Dang it,” Timmy said. “No one? A quarter?”

  As Charlie Joe watched Timmy rifle through his backpack, looking for stray change, he suddenly had an idea.

  “Hey, Timmy,” he said. “I’ll buy you an ice cream sandwich.”

  Everyone looked shocked, including Timmy. “You will?”

  “Yup.”

  “Cool!” Timmy bounded up to Charlie Joe, with his hand out.

  “Just one thing, though,” Charlie Joe said. “I really, really need you to read Tuck Everlasting for me, and then tell me what it’s about.”

  A confused look crossed Timmy’s face. “Wait, what?”

  “It’s simple,” said Charlie Joe. “I already read the inside cover and the first chapter. All you have to do is tell me what’s in the rest of the book, after you read it. You’re reading it anyway. So what’s the big deal?”

  “Don’t do it, Timmy,” said Eliza. “Charlie Joe is just being lazy. Don’t help him out.”

  “You stay out of it,” Charlie Joe told Eliza. He turned back to Timmy. “What do you say? We could do it for all the books.” He nudged Timmy with his elbow. “Think of all the ice cream sandwiches you’ll get to eat. For free!”

  Timmy started scratching his elbows, the way he always did when he was thinking. No one said a word, as they waited for his answer. Charlie Joe secretly crossed his fingers under the table.

  “So let me get this straight,” Timmy said. “All I have to do is tell you what’s in the books that I’m reading anyway for class, and you’ll buy me ice cream sandwiches?”

  “Yup,” Charlie Joe said.

  “It’s morally questionable,” said Katie Friedman, “but then again, it’s extremely clever.”

  “What does ‘morally questionable’ mean?” asked Pete Milano.

  “It means Charlie Joe could go to jail,” said Jake Katz.

  Pete laughed. “I would totally come visit you.”

  “When are visiting hours in jail?” asked Hannah Spivero.

  “Quiet, all of you!” said Charlie Joe.

  They all turned their eyes back to Timmy, and waited.

  Finally, after about thirty more endless seconds, Timmy stopped scratching.

  “Deal,” he said.

  * * *

  19

  7:18 pm

  Before all the kids left Eastport Middle School for the very last time—unless we come back for a visit, which everyone always says they’re going to do but basically nobody ever does—we had one last assignment: to pose for a zillion pictures.

  First, my parents got a family shot of the four of us, then they made me pose with pretty much every other possib
le combination of people: all my guy best friends (Jake, Timmy, Pete, Nareem, me); all my girl best friends (Katie, Hannah, Eliza); all of us together; all my favorite teachers (Ms. Ferrell, Mr. Radonski, Mrs. Massey, Mr. Twipple, Ms. Reedy, Ms. Albone); all my favorite school staff people (Rose, Johnny, Charles, Betty); and of course, a picture of just myself and Mrs. Sleep.

  After we took the picture, Mrs. Sleep turned to me and said, “I would like a copy of that picture.”

  I looked up—way up—at her. “Why?”

  She laughed her low, deep laugh. “Because students like you don’t come along every day, that’s why.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  “Say thank you,” my mom said, reading my mind as usual.

  “I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not,” I told her.

  “Neither was I,” said Mrs. Sleep.

  After about twenty minutes, I’d taken just about all the pictures I could take.

  “Yo,” I said to Timmy, who was taking a picture with his family and his girlfriend, Erica Pope. (I still can’t believe I’m using the words “Timmy” and “girlfriend” in the same sentence.)

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I don’t think we should leave middle school quite yet.”

  “NOT AGAIN!” Timmy hollered, rolling his eyes.

  “Shhhh!” I said. “I’m not talking about, like, trying to open the gym or anything. Obviously, that didn’t work out so well.” I leaned in so various adults in the immediate neighborhood couldn’t hear me. “No, I mean, we need to do one last thing for everyone to remember us by.”

  Timmy’s eyes widened in suspicion. “Like what?”

  I gestured to all the people in the courtyard. “Check it out,” I said. “Look at all these people, hot, bored, and tired. They need something to perk them up.”

  Timmy shrugged. “Like what?”

  “Ice cream sandwiches,” I said. “That’s what.”

  “And where are you going to get a hundred ice cream sandwiches?”