Anyway, I’d forgotten about the field trip. All seventh and eighth graders visit the high school at the end of the year, to get used to the idea of going there one day. At the lunch table, everything got a little quiet for a minute. Nobody wanted to admit it, but we were all a little scared of the place.
“I’ve been there a few times,” said Phil Manning. He had an older brother who was a sophomore. “It’s huge.”
“It’s not so big,” I reassured everyone. “I go there with Megan all the time.” I’d never actually gone inside the building, but they didn’t need to know that.
“From what I hear,” said Jake, “it’s almost like a college. So many extracurricular opportunities, and an incredible course selection.”
He said that like it was a good thing, by the way. We all looked at him like he was from another planet, which of course he was.
“Well, all I know is, I’m perfectly happy right here,” I said, speaking for pretty much everyone else at the table.
Or so I thought.
“Not me,” said Nareem.
We all looked at him.
“Life is about embracing the unknown,” he said.
I snorted. “Did you read that in a book somewhere?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he said. And he held up a book.
A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls.
Until that moment, I had no idea you could actually physically feel your face turn red.
“Charlie Joe, are you okay?” Jake asked.
“Fine,” I managed to choke out. “I think a fish stick went down the wrong way.”
“Nareem,” Katie said, “do you mind if I ask you why you’re reading that book?”
“Yeah, no offense or anything, but that seems like a book only a loser would read,” Timmy weighed in.
I felt my face go from red to green.
“I saw this book in the library,” Nareem said. “Mrs. Reedy told me that someone else had just read it and found it quite fascinating. I looked through it, and it seemed like something I might benefit from. I am not embarrassed to say that I could use some improvement in that department.”
The other kids all looked at Nareem, impressed that he could be so honest about it.
“In any case,” he continued, “in the book, one is advised to take risks and to not be afraid. If you like a girl, or a boy, you should tell them.”
“What does that have to do with high school?” I asked, trying to get us back to the original subject.
“Well,” Nareem continued, “when we get to high school, it will be a similar situation. We must be ready to face all challenges. Whether it’s a girl we like, or high school, or anything else for the rest of our lives.”
“That sounds like good advice,” Timmy said. “But the only challenge I’m really worried about is four hours of homework a night.”
“Plus, I heard it takes you twenty minutes to walk from one end of the school to the other,” Phil added.
“Can I see that book?” Katie asked Nareem.
He handed the book to her. She flipped to the very last page and started reading.
“Every young person at some point faces the moment when he or she is ready to engage with a member of the opposite sex as a normal person, as opposed to acting as if they are different species. When that moment comes, it is important to remember that there is no special formula to boy-girl interaction. In fact, it is quite the opposite. It is ideal to make such communication not special at all: it should feel ordinary, an everyday occurrence, like talking to your friends. When boys and girls are able to speak normally with each other, without fear of being boring or dull; when they are able to sit quietly, and not feel like they have to fill every moment with conversation; when they are able to treat each other as one human being to another; then, and only then, will they have learned what it means to truly communicate.”
Katie closed the book. Everyone sat quietly for a minute, thinking over what she had just read.
Finally I said, “I hope they have chocolate pudding in high school.”
Katie smiled. “Stop feeling like you have to fill every moment with conversation,” she said.
Bill Radonski’s Guide to Romance
STAY IN SHAPE!
As a gym teacher, I of course think that physical fitness is the root of all human happiness. Similarly, I find that the best way to connect with a woman is through exercise.
A nice long jog. A game of tennis. Spotting each other while lifting weights. Nothing helps two people bond more than seeing each other sweat.
Stay in shape, and romance is sure to follow. Remember—the heart is a muscle, too!
30
On the day of the high school field trip, I was late for school. Even though I had a good excuse—my mom couldn’t find her keys, as usual—that still meant I was the last person on the bus.
Mr. Radonski was standing in the school parking lot as we pulled up.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Jackson,” he said, pointing at his watch. “Are all the students supposed to be late for the high school because you couldn’t get to school on time?”
“Sorry, Mr. Radonski,” I said.
“SORRY DON’T FEED THE BULLDOG!” he yelled, whatever that means.
My mom popped out of her side of the car. “It’s totally my fault, Bill,” she said. “For the life of me, I couldn’t find my car keys this morning!”
Mr. Radonski saw my mom, and his whole mood changed, of course. Apparently they’d gone to high school together, and I guess he had a thing for her—just writing that gives me the willies—so whenever he saw her he went from a pit bull to a puppy (something he’d never admit, by the way).
“Ah, Claire!” he said. “So good to see you, as always. Couldn’t find the old keys, huh?”
“Sure couldn’t,” said my mom.
Mr. Radonski shook his head, but he was smiling. “Happens to me all the time, too. In this day and age you’d think they’d invent a way to live without keys, right?”
“Absolutely!” said my mom, flashing her nicest smile. She was no dummy—she knew a happy Mr. Radonski made my life a lot easier. “Well gotta run—have a great day, you two!”
I waved to my mom as she drove away. “Bye now!” hollered Mr. Radonski. “Always great to see you!” He kept waving until he noticed me looking at him. Then he looked a little embarrassed.
“You need to do a better job helping your mom find her keys in the morning,” he told me. “Now get on that bus.”
I hopped on the bus, and my worst fears were confirmed—no more seats, except for one.
In the very first row.
Next to the adult chaperone.
Who happened to be my old drama teacher, Mr. Twipple.
Just to remind you, Mr. Twipple and I had a complicated history. At first, we didn’t get along too well, maybe because I used to imitate him by scrunching up my face to look more like a ferret than a person. (It was really funny until he found out about it. Then it was a lot less funny.) But then, I ended up playing the lead in this school play he wrote about the guy who invented paper towels, and he told me I was talented—even though I almost ruined the whole thing when I panicked on stage before kissing Hannah Spivero. Ever since then, we’d been pretty good pals. Even though I still thought he kind of looked like a ferret.
“Hey, Mr. Twipple,” I said as I sat down next to him on the bus.
“Well hello, Charlie Joe.” Mr. Twipple slid over to make room. “Excited about checking out the big campus?”
“I guess.”
Mr. Twipple went back to reading his book—a biography of some guy named Marlon Brando—but two minutes later, he put it down. “Charlie Joe, can I ask you something?”
Uh-oh. “Sure.”
“Well, I’ve noticed you haven’t exactly been yourself lately,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve known you for a while now. We’ve had some good times and some bad times, but g
enerally speaking, you’re one of the liveliest personalities in school. It seems like lately, though, you’ve become a little more reserved. Is it just my imagination? Or is something going on with you?”
I shifted in my seat. “No, I’m good.”
Mr. Twipple pointed at his book. “Charisma, Charlie Joe, is a rare thing. It’s not something that can be taught—it’s a gift. Most great performers have it. Marlon Brando, one of the finest American actors ever born, had it in spades.” He slapped me on the knee. “You, Charlie Joe, have charisma. It’s what makes you who you are, and it’s what has allowed you to get away with many of the things you’ve gotten away with.”
“Thanks. I think.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
Two minutes later, I heard this come out of my mouth: “Have you ever liked a girl, but didn’t know how to tell her, so you get this book about what to do, which ends up helping everyone else except you, and then when you end up trying to tell her, you mess it all up, and so now you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to tell her again?”
“As a matter of fact, that happened to me just last night,” Mr. Twipple said.
“Really?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Another minute went by, then my mouth said this: “Well, this book I read said that I shouldn’t try so hard to be like the funniest kid all the time. That maybe I should just be more relaxed and normal and not show off so much by doing goofy things and stuff. So that’s what I’m trying to do.”
A nervous cheer went up as the bus turned into the high school parking lot.
“I’m sure this book was written by a very distinguished author,” Mr. Twipple said. “And I’m definitely no expert. But I will give you one small piece of advice.”
The bus stopped, and someone smacked my shoulder. “Hey, Charlie Joe!”
I turned around to see Pete and Timmy standing there, waiting. “Come on, time to go!” Pete said.
“Yeah, man, let’s go check out the high school,” Timmy added.
I stayed in my seat. “Give me one second.”
They both stared at me, shocked that I was still sitting there, having a serious conversation with a teacher. And not just any teacher—Mr. Twipple. “Fine,” Pete said, “but hurry up.”
As they piled off the bus, I turned back to Mr. Twipple. I could tell he was happy that I’d chosen him over my friends, if only for a minute. It turns out that teachers like to feel cool, too—and I had a hunch Mr. Twipple didn’t feel cool all that often.
“What’s your small piece of advice?”
“It’s this,” Mr. Twipple said. “Everyone has their own definition of normal. Your normal might not be someone else’s normal. The important thing is to not be defined by what other people say you should be. If you do that, you’re actually doing the opposite of being yourself. You’re being who someone else wants you to be.”
I sat there for a second, more confused than ever.
“You’re not the quiet, polite type,” he went on. “You’re the master of the grand gesture. The bold move. So go for it! Do something grand and bold. Win the love of this girl!”
I grabbed my backpack and stood up. “Wait a second. So what you’re saying is that I should go back to being the type of kid who drives teachers like you absolutely crazy?”
“God forgive me for saying this,” Mr. Twipple said, “but exactly.”
31
As we walked around the high school, I realized two things:
1. My conversation with Mr. Twipple had put me in the best mood I’d been in for a while; and
2. High schools are pretty sweet.
First we went to the school gym, which had like nine basketball courts.
It was awesome.
Then we went to the auditorium, which looked like Radio City Music Hall compared to our middle school auditorium. They even let us stand on the stage.
It was awesome-er.
Then we went to watch some kids actually broadcast a live TV morning show from an actual TV studio!
It was totally beyond awesome.
By the time we got to the cafeteria, which actually had a soft-serve ice cream machine, kids were practically jumping up and down with excitement. High school didn’t seem scary anymore. It seemed full of possibilities!
Then they had to go and ruin everything by taking us to the library.
“Holy smokes,” Jake Katz said, in awe.
“Holy smokes,” I said, in horror.
The high school library actually had two floors. Two floors! There were computer stations everywhere, which wasn’t so bad, but there were also a lot of books. No, make that a TON of books. There were rows and rows and rows of books. There were way more books than any human being could ever read in ten lifetimes.
It was like the New York Public Library’s little brother.
There was a biography section that was the size of a football field. A biography section! I’m sorry, but there is no way there are that many people in the world who deserve to have a book written about them.
A tall woman with glasses hanging around her neck came up to us with a big smile on her face. “Hello! I’m Ms. Cryer, and I’m the director of media services here at the high school.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Do you mind if I ask you what is so funny?” Ms. Cryer asked.
I hesitated. The older old me would have made some goofy joke, but the newer old me would have just shook my head and been a good boy. But after my talk on the bus with Mr. Twipple, I decided that the newer old me should go back to the older old me.
That’s logical, right?
“Well, I just think your name is kind of funny,” I said.
Ms. Cryer cocked her head. “How so?”
“Well, it seems to make a lot of sense that someone who has to work in a huge library all day would have the word cry in her name.”
Some kids giggled, which felt good. I’d missed that sound.
“I see,” said Ms. Cryer. “So I gather you’re not a fan of reading?”
“That’s an understatement,” Jake volunteered.
“Let’s just say it’s not in my top ten,” I said.
Ms. Cryer walked over to a shelf, picked up a book, and walked over to me. “Here, hold this.”
I took the book.
“This young man is holding one of over five thousand books we have in our library,” Ms. Cryer announced to all the students. “And I am quite sure that before you have finished your time here, I can help each one of you find at least five books that you will read, enjoy, and learn from.” Then she looked directly at me. “And as for you, young man, I will personally guarantee it.”
I looked up at her. “You will?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, still smiling. “In fact, I’ll make you a bet. Name your terms.” It seemed like she was having fun, and I began to think that when I got to high school, I might like her as much as I liked Mrs. Reedy. Why did I get along so great with librarians? It made absolutely no sense.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll bet you I won’t read five books from this library during high school. If you win, I will read five more books over the summer between high school and college.” I paused for a second. “And if I win, you have to move all these bookshelves out of the way so we can have a Ping-Pong tournament in here during the last week of school.”
Ms. Cryer laughed. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Cool,” Timmy said. “I love Ping-Pong.”
32
We spent another hour checking out the whole school, which was totally huge of course, but also kind of amazing. To get from one class to another, sometimes you even got to walk outside. It was like college!
By the time we headed back to the buses, everyone was talking about how they couldn’t wait to go to high school.
“Dude,” said Emory, “I am totally stoked for this place.”
“Is ‘stoked’ good?” Nareem asked.
The whole courtyard was filled with happy, chattering people, but I couldn’t help noticing that one person wasn’t participating in the fun.
Katie Friedman.
She was standing off to the side, talking to Mrs. Massey, our art teacher, who was another chaperone on the trip. I watched Katie for a few seconds, trying to decide if I wanted to know why she wasn’t having fun. At first I thought it might have involved me. But then I decided that would be giving myself too much credit.
So I went over.
“Hey, Mrs. Massey,” I said. “The art studios are pretty amazing here.”
Mrs. Massey gave me a hug. She was a hugger. “Charlie Joe, so lovely to see you! Yes, indeed, this school is a painter’s paradise. Professional artists all over the world would love to work in studios like these.”
“I’ll bet. Hey, how’s Zoe?” Zoe Alvarez—my almost-girlfriend from the year before—happened to be her granddaughter.
“She’s very well, Charlie Joe, very well indeed. So nice of you to ask.”
“That’s good.” Well, enough small talk with Mrs. Massey. I turned to Katie. “Hey.”
She gave a halfhearted smile. “Hey.”
I casually pulled her away from Mrs. Massey to get a little privacy. “So, is everything okay? You don’t seem all that into this place.”
Katie looked down and stared at something on the ground that wasn’t there. “No, this place is amazing,” she said. “Totally incredible.”
“So how come you don’t look as psyched as everyone else?”
She picked her head up and looked at me for a split second, then looked up at the sky. “Well…” she said.
I was getting a weird feeling in my stomach. “Well what?”
Finally she looked at me straight on. “Well, I think I might actually go to private school next year.”
My stomach did a weird somersault. “Private school?”
Katie nodded sadly. “Yup. My parents think it might be good for me. More challenges and all that.”
Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl Page 9
