Charlie Joe Jacksons Guide to Summer Vacation

by Tommy Greenwald

  Teddy paused for a minute, then answered by throwing up an entire pizza onto Chad’s shorts.

  Chad stared down at his uniform in shock. “Dude, SERIOUSLY?”

  Teddy answered that by throwing up his root beer onto Chad’s sneakers.

  “YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT!” Chad screamed, as Dwayne, Dr. Mal, and the Wockajocka coach ran over to them.

  “What’s going on?” shouted Dr. Mal, which seemed to be his favorite phrase that day.

  Chad pointed at Teddy. “This idiot just ate a whole pizza in a minute to impress some girl, and then he threw it up all over me!”

  “Yeah well, I did it, didn’t I?” responded Teddy, obviously feeling a little better already. “I bet you couldn’t do it, you big oaf.”

  And before anyone could do anything, Chad grabbed Teddy, and they started rolling around the ground and fighting.

  Not to be too gross about it, but little gobs of ex-pizza were flying everywhere.

  “Eeeeew!” shouted Cathy.

  Dr. Mal blew his whistle louder than I’ve ever heard in my life. “Get up, both of you!” he yelled at Chad and Teddy.

  After a little more vomit-wrestling, they got up.

  “Go get yourselves cleaned up,” he said. “Then go sit on the bench. You’re both out of the game.”

  Dwayne came over to me quietly. “Wow, this is going even better than I expected,” he whispered. “We might actually win this thing.”

  I nodded. He was right. Operation Pizza Party had worked out perfectly. We figured at best, we’d get Teddy too stuffed on pizza to play well. We never imagined that he’d vomit all over the other best player on the team, and that they’d both be kicked out of the game. That was truly a dream come true.

  Dwayne signaled for the team to bring it in. On my way over, I grabbed Cathy.

  “You were awesome,” I said.

  She smiled at me. “Thanks.” Then she came over to the bench and gave George a kiss on the cheek.

  “If you guys win,” she told him, “I’ll kiss you on the other cheek.”

  14

  The second half was a totally different story.

  After about five minutes, their third-best player fouled out, and three minutes after that, another kid did. They started to panic. All of a sudden, Becky started getting openings, and she made three three-pointers in a row. Sam made a lay-up, I made two jumpers, and George, feeling like Superman from Cathy’s kiss, blocked three shots and got every rebound. Even Jared had two steals. Everyone was contributing, and we got more and more confident with each basket.

  Meanwhile, Teddy sat at the end of their bench with his vomity shirt off, a towel around his head, and absolutely no appetite.

  By the end of the third quarter, we were only losing 38–34.

  Our fans were going wild. They could taste victory against Camp Jockstrap. For the first time ever.

  “Keep it going,” Dwayne told us before the fourth quarter. “They’re rattled. Sports are all about momentum and confidence, and we have both right now. Let’s finish it off.”

  Dwayne made it sound easy, but it wasn’t. Their team suddenly realized they were in danger of becoming the first team from Camp Jockstrap ever to lose to us, and they started playing a lot better. But we didn’t give in, either; we kept playing hard and making shots.

  It turned into a real, honest-to-goodness basketball game.

  With fifteen seconds left, the game was tied 48-48. One of their kids missed a shot, and George got the rebound. Dwayne immediately called time-out.

  “We’re going to hold the ball for the last shot,” he told us. “Who wants to take it?”

  “I will,” said Jared, even though he had scored only four points in the entire game.

  “I want to hear from the captain,” Dwayne said.

  Jared’s face turned red. “This is bogus,” he complained, but everyone ignored him.

  I thought for a second. “George should take the last shot.”

  George blinked and shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “No, seriously,” I said. “Everybody thinks it’ll be me or Becky. You’ll be wide open underneath. Trust me.”

  George thought about it for a second, then took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. But if this doesn’t go well, I’ll never forgive you.”

  We headed back out onto the court. I took the ball out and inbounded to Becky. She dribbled up the court and passed it to Sam, who immediately passed it to me. All the Jockstrap guys swarmed around me, while George drifted down underneath the basket. I faked the shot, then snuck underneath their giant arms and threw a bounce pass to George. There were two seconds left. He looked up at the basket, mumbled something that was probably some sort of prayer, then threw up the saddest-looking lay-up I’ve ever seen in my life.

  It rolled around the basket for about twenty minutes—okay, maybe not, but it seemed like twenty minutes—then dropped through the hoop. Everybody on both teams and in the crowd stared in silent shock for a second, until George turned around and looked at Cathy.

  “It went in,” he said quietly.

  Then it got real loud, real fast.

  People started screaming at the top of their lungs. Campers stormed the court, lifting us up on their shoulders as if we’d just won the NBA championship (or the Nobel Prize). Kids were hugging each other. Kids were hugging Dr. Mal. Dwayne got doused in Gatorade. It was a madhouse. A happy madhouse.

  Meanwhile, the Wockajocka kids waited patiently to shake our hands. It turned out they were really good sports. “Congratulations, amazing game,” they kept saying, over and over. Even Chad was nice about it. Teddy was the only one acting like a jerk, refusing to shake anyone’s hand and not saying a word. Instead, he came over to me and stuck his finger in my chest.

  “Loser,” he said with a sneer. “You can’t win without cheating. I know what you were up to. It won’t happen this way next year, believe me. Next year we show no mercy.”

  I high-fived him, against his will. “Next year I’ll be at the beach.”

  15

  After the Wockajocka bus left, the whole camp went to the dining hall for a celebratory ice cream party, but it was awkward. Once the craziness at the basketball court died down, people realized they had no idea how to celebrate a victory, since it had never happened before. After a few minutes of everyone just standing around eating ice cream, Dwayne went up to the microphone.

  “I have an announcement!” he said. “I just want to say thanks for coming to the game today. And I thought you might want to hear from the kid who led us to victory … Captain Charlie Joe Jackson!”

  Everyone cheered (except Jared, of course) as I took the microphone, but for once in my life, I had no idea what to say.

  “I know you guys think I hate books and learning and stuff,” I said finally. I looked at Katie while I said it, since I’d recently found out she thought the opposite. “And I know it took a while to get used to me,” I continued. “But it turns out I like to use my brain, too, even if it’s just to figure out a way to trick a kid into eating so much pizza that he throws up.”

  George imitated Teddy barfing, which made everybody laugh.

  “Anyway,” I added, “thanks for putting up with me.”

  “For now,” Jack added, making everybody crack up all over again.

  I handed the microphone to Dr. Mal and sat down, people clapping me on the back.

  “What a first week,” Dr. Mal said, trying to be a good sport. I could tell he was still a little mad that he didn’t know about the pizza plan, but since it was such a big moment for the camp, he decided to let it go.

  “And I’ve got more good news,” Dr. Mal continued. “Early next week I’m going to share some exciting new developments that promise to make your camp experience even richer and more rewarding.”

  We all looked at each other.

  “What’s that about?” I asked the guys, suddenly feeling a little less celebratory.

  “We’ll find out,” said George. �
�I can’t wait. Dr. Mal always comes through, because he’s awesome.”

  Oh, jeez. I was definitely learning to respect Dr. Mal, but “awesome” wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind.

  Katie came up, and this time she actually looked at me. “Nice job,” she said. But before I could decide if she was actually being nice to me, she raised her eyebrows. “Turns out it only took one week for you to feel like you belong here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were one of us. You know … a nerd?”

  “Ha-ha,” I said.

  Katie stood there and waited.

  “Fine,” I admitted. “It‘s okay here, I guess. And the fitting in part feels pretty good. Even though I still hate books and everything associated with them.”

  “Wow,” George said. “The idea that someone like you would feel good about fitting in with a bunch of kids like us.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  George shook his head.

  “Life can be really weird sometimes,” he said.

  Hey Charlie Joe,

  Congratulations on getting through your first week of camp. Only two more long weeks to go.

  I don’t want to tell you how much fun I’m having this summer because I don’t want you to accuse me of secretly wanting you to be miserable, like you usually do. So I’m not going to say anything at all about how amazingly, incredibly, awesomely awesome my summer is going so far.

  Seriously, I’m not going to say anything. Well, gotta go ENJOY MYSELF.

  Timmy

  Week Two

  CAMPERS UNITE!

  16

  So yeah, I admit it; by the second week, I was starting to feel like I maybe slightly belonged at Camp Rituhbukkee. But there’s a difference between feeling like you belong and actually belonging.

  It’s true, I didn’t feel like a complete outsider anymore. But there were still a lot of things about camp that I just didn’t get. I didn’t get racing to the camp library when the new shipments of books arrived. I didn’t get writing letters just for fun. And I absolutely, positively would never get reading while walking to meals.

  But most of all, I still really didn’t get why kids liked the classes—sorry, I mean workshops. Having to go to school during the summer was something I would never get used to. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, except for maybe Teddy Spivero.

  On the Monday morning after the big basketball victory, I was sitting in The Write Stuff workshop, which was the most bearable one, mainly because of Ms. Domerca. I was working on an important project: trying to get George to take his relationship with Cathy to the next level.

  The kiss-on-the-lips level.

  “You’re a sports hero now,” I told him. “That puts you in a whole new category of chick magnet.”

  “Would you stop?” George begged, ungratefully.

  I shrugged. “Fine. She opened the door with that kiss on the cheek, is all I’m saying.”

  “I’m not here to date girls, I’m here to study,” he insisted.

  “Maybe you can study girls,” Jack Strong chimed in. I laughed. Jack turned out to be pretty funny. He was still wearing his annoying T-shirts (today’s said NYU), but at least he was loosening up a little.

  Jack’s joke turned out to be the end of the conversation. I heard the familiar rattle of bracelets, then Ms. Domerca’s voice behind me.

  “Sorry to interrupt, boys. Charlie Joe, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  Uh-oh.

  I followed her out onto the front porch of the cabin. We looked out at the big beautiful lake. You know, the one that I was currently not swimming in, because I was in a class-like workshop, in a class-like room, in a school-like building.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Ms. Domerca sat on a big, rocking, bench-type thingy and started swinging back and forth. “Charlie Joe, how long have we known each other?”

  Was this a trick question? “Um, a week.”

  “Right!” Ms. Domerca smiled at me like I’d just solved world hunger. “And in all that time, wouldn’t you say that we get along pretty well, and that as teachers go, I’m not among your bottom five of all time?”

  I squinted at her. “Yes, I would say that. What’s this about?”

  “I want you to do something for me.”

  I knew it. The friendliness, the compliments, the helping out on Operation Pizza Party—it was all just a trick to get me to do something.

  Typical teacher maneuver.

  “Like what?” I asked, expecting the worst. Which I got.

  Ms. Domerca grabbed a pamphlet off of a table and handed it to me. It was a copy of the Bukkee Bugle, the camp newspaper.

  I held it away from my body like it had some sort of dangerous odor. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I’m the faculty advisor, and I want you to join our staff.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you could be a good writer,” said Ms. Domerca, smacking me on the leg. “You’re funny, you’re clever, and you certainly don’t lack opinions. I think you’d make a fantastic addition to our team. You can be our columnist and write about whatever you want.”

  I raised my eyebrows. I didn’t know what a columnist was, but it sounded pretty good. Whatever I wanted? What’s the catch?

  “The only thing,” Ms. Domerca added, “is that all your columns have to refer to a book you’re reading here at camp.”

  There’s always a catch.

  “So let me get this straight,” I said, joining her on the rocking swing. “I can write about whatever I want, but not really, since it has to come out of a book?”

  Ms. Domerca sighed. “Why is everything such a battle with you, Charlie Joe? You have to read and write anyway. This is a camp for reading and writing. So why not try to make it as fun as possible along the way?”

  I thought about that for a second.

  “Also,” she added, “all the kids will read it. They’ll listen to what you have to say.”

  Hmm. That could be interesting. The basketball game had helped me win over some of these kids. This might get me the rest of the way there, not to mention help me in my mission to turn these nerds into former nerds.

  “Fine,” I agreed. “I’ll give it a try.”

  “Great!” Ms. Domerca ran back inside. Five seconds later, she came out with a pile of books.

  “I thought you’d start with these.” She patted me on the head like I was a dog. “We meet Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays during First Rec. The paper comes out Wednesdays and Fridays.”

  She left me sitting there with the books. Did I mention the books were thick? They were. Really thick. And as far as I could tell, there wasn’t a single picture in any one of them.

  I looked at each book for approximately no seconds, then went back inside.

  17

  “Nareem,” asked George at lunch, “can you please pass the carrots?”

  George liked cooked carrots, which was another thing that made him by far the least likely friend I’d ever had. Even Nareem hated cooked carrots.

  “Here you go,” Nareem said, as the rest of us shook our heads. Gross.

  “That reminds me, Nareem,” Jack asked with his mouth full, “what’s up with you and Katie? Are you guys going out or what?”

  Nareem looked at Jack. “How does passing the carrots remind you of me and Katie?”

  “It doesn’t,” Jack said, and everybody laughed.

  I smiled. For the first couple of days at camp, meals were used to discuss books, equations, and other tools of learning. Now, we spent most of the time talking about girls. A very significant development, if you ask me.

  Nareem looked uncomfortable. “Well, as a matter a fact,” he said, studying his macaroni and cheese carefully, “I have been thinking about it. I’m not sure I have time for a girlfriend right now.” Then he looked at me. “What do you think, Charlie Joe?”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Duh,” said Nareem. “About Kati
e.”

  “I think when you two finally admit you like each other, it will make world news.” I immediately realized that sounded kind of jerky, so I added, “She’s like the most amazing person in the world, and it’s awesome that she likes you, dude, so congratulations.”

  “What about you, Charlie Joe?” Jack asked. “Is there a new, nerdy girl in your life?”

  “No,” I said.

  “What about Lauren Rubin?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, just friends. Anyway, she likes Jared Bumpers, for some insane reason.”

  Nareem said, “What’s going on with Zoe?”

  “Haven’t heard from her lately,” I answered quickly, feeling my ears get hot. “Not since that one letter, like the third day of camp.”

  Nareem shook his head. “That’s weird.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I suddenly had a burning desire to change the subject back to books and learning. “That’s enough girl talk. How about that Second Workshop speed-reading exercise we did today, huh? Wasn’t that a blast?”

  Forks were dropped. Juice was spit out of mouths. The guys looked at each other, then at me.

  “Who are you,” George asked, “and what have you done with Charlie Joe Jackson?”

  18

  The coolest place at camp was probably The Table Of Contents, which was the camp canteen. Kids could go to The Table Of Contents to buy candy, soda, and other snacks, and generally hang out and have fun. The problem was that it was only open for fifteen minutes at a time, in between workshops. It was like a mini recess. Hanging out there was probably like what it feels like for people in jail when they get fifteen minutes of exercise a day.

  During First Rec, The Table Of Contents became the newsroom of the Bukkee Bugle. The best part was, we didn’t even have to pay for licorice during the meeting! Being on the camp newspaper was looking better already.

  When I walked into the canteen for my first meeting, I saw a few familiar faces. Jack Strong, Lauren Rubin, and Jared Bumpers were all there.