Jack Strong Takes a Stand

by Tommy Greenwald

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Hopefully not too much longer. Believe it or not, I actually miss school.”

  Shaina laughed louder than necessary. “And do you think what you’re doing will change anything? Will parents understand that it’s time to let kids be kids? Will they stop trying to turn them into high-achievement machines programmed for the college application process?”

  I thought for a second, trying to figure out how to answer, when I saw my mom walk back into the room. We all stopped and looked at her.

  “Are we good?” Brody asked.

  My mom sighed. “Yup,” she said. “We’re good. Richard seems to think the TV show is just what this family needs.”

  “Yes!” I screamed, nearly jumping off the couch. My dad must have really bought into this whole it-would-be-good-for-college thing. But I suddenly felt guilty because I realized there was no way he wasn’t going to look like the bad guy. On live television.

  Nana came over and hugged me, then said something about having only two days to find a new dress.

  “Jack?” Shaina said. “Back to the question. What do you think? Will parents understand it’s time to let kids be kids?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “You’ll have to ask them.”

  “Ask who?” said Shaina. “The parents or the kids?”

  “That’s for Wednesday night,” interrupted Brody, signaling to his crew to start packing up. “Like I said, gotta save the good stuff for live television.”

  32

  After everyone left, Mom, Nana, and I checked out the network’s website. Sure enough, right there on the home page was a big picture of Mrs. Fleck, with the headline: “Local Mom Fights Back.”

  Missy Fleck, 42, has always considered herself an excellent mother: passionate, hard-working, and extremely dedicated to her children. But suddenly parents like Mrs. Fleck, who shuttle their kids from activity to activity all week long, are under increased scrutiny. This is mostly due to Jack Strong, the middle school student who has gained a great deal of attention in the last week by deciding to go on strike until his parents lighten his own schedule. His motto, TAKE A STAND BY TAKING A SEAT, has become a rallying cry for overscheduled children. But now Mrs. Fleck, whose daughter goes to school with young Jack, has decided to fight back.

  “Jack Strong may be sitting down,” Mrs. Fleck said in an interview earlier today, “but I need to stand up for hard-working kids and parents everywhere.”

  My mom shook her head. “What is happening to the world?”

  “This is what happens when you don’t let me skip soccer practice,” I said.

  We kept reading. Sure enough, Mrs. Fleck had decided to hold her own rally right on my street, the night of the live broadcast. “We’re going to have music, games, a display of artwork, and much more, all performed and created by the kids,” Mrs. Fleck said in the article. “And all made possible by the many wonderful activities they attend and love.”

  The rest of the article was all the predictable stuff about how Mrs. Fleck is doing all this because she’s a champion for children. Whatever. Basically I just skimmed it, until a paragraph at the end caught my eye.

  And what do Mrs. Fleck’s own children think of this controversy? “She definitely loves us, and has our best interests at heart,” says daughter Lucy. “Working hard and doing all these things will help me get into a good college and have a better chance to succeed in life.”

  Then Mrs. Fleck ended the interview, saying her young daughter was late for her chemistry tutor.

  “Most kids don’t take chemistry until tenth grade,” she said, smiling proudly.

  Aha! The real Mrs. Fleck pops up, if only for a minute.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Time to wash your hands for dinner,” said my mom.

  Heading to the bathroom, I was a little wobbly as usual. The first steps when I got up were always weird, like I was just learning how to walk. My legs felt rubbery, and as I looked around, it seemed like I was really high off the ground.

  Walking is a really strange thing to do when you only take about fifty steps a day.

  In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I still looked the same, but everything else about me was different. Last Monday I was just a regular kid trying to survive middle school. Now here I was, about to go on television while a crazy lady was throwing a party dedicated to tearing me down.

  What a difference a week makes.

  33

  STRIKE—DAY 9

  So it turns out that being a celebrity is really weird.

  It started the day after the article appeared on the internet. First, a few people drove by and took pictures of the house. Then, people started knocking on the door and asking if they could sit next to me on the couch and take a picture together. When one guy snuck around the back and started taking my picture through the window while I was napping, Nana sent him on his way with a few choice words.

  I was also interviewed over the phone by some of the other local radio and television stations. Fred’s Furniture Farm delivered a new couch to our house, but my mom didn’t like it and sent it back. I mentioned Xbox in one interview, and two hours later a brand new system arrived, with a note that said “I want your life!” Luckily it was from an anonymous person, so my mom couldn’t send it back, too.

  It was official: I was kind of famous. But the strangest part was, even though everybody suddenly wanted a piece of me, I was starting to feel really alone.

  First of all, I was starting to realize that when you’re the only underscheduled kid in a world of overscheduled kids, you don’t get a lot of company.

  And the other thing was, Nana had gone to stay with her friend Lena in the city for a twenty-four-hour bridge binge. She did that twice a year. I think it was kind of like one of those rock festivals, but instead of a bunch of twenty-five-year-olds acting crazy and doing who-knows-what, you had a bunch of seventy-something-year-olds playing bridge and eating cake.

  “I’ll be back in time for the big show tomorrow night,” she told me before she left. “Don’t get up from that darn couch before I get back.”

  I really missed her.

  Then, on Tuesday afternoon, while I was tossing apple slices to Maddie (she loves apples), I heard a knock on the window. I turned around, and Leo was standing there on his bicycle.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll let myself in,” he said, coming in through the just-fixed screen door.

  “Dude!” I pounded his back.

  “I’m heading to the store to get my mom a thing of milk,” Leo said. “Figured I’d stop here on the way and make sure you weren’t too exhausted from not doing anything all day.”

  “Very funny. You try sitting on a couch for nine days. It’s starting to kind of stink.”

  “Dude, you’re famous. That doesn’t stink.” Then Leo went over to my computer. “But here’s the real reason I came over,” he said. “My brother showed this to me. Have you heard about this?”

  I looked at the screen, which he’d opened to Facebook. Someone had started a page called “The Sit-Downers.” It was for people who wanted to support me in the strike. And it had 1,374 likes!

  “Holy moly,” I said.

  “That’s nothing,” Leo said, typing on the keyboard. “Check this out.”

  He clicked on a YouTube video called Lacey Takes a Stand.

  I pressed play.

  It was a video of a girl walking on a beach. She looked a little older than me. She stared into the camera and started talking.

  “My name is Lacey Allen. I read about Jack Strong, and his life sounded exactly like my life. I was running from thing to thing, and never had any time to myself. I figured if he was brave enough to finally do something about it, so could I. Except, since I live in California, I figured I could have a couch with a view.”

  Then she walked up to a couch that was sitting right on the edge of the ocean and sat down. As the camera swung around to the other side, she blew it a kiss.

  “Thank yo
u, Jack Strong. I think you’re awesome. Bye!”

  Then a big frame came up that said “A Lacey Allen Production.”

  The whole thing was about thirty seconds long. And it had 7,375 views and 284 comments!

  “Holy double moly,” I said.

  “I know!” Leo said, pounding my back.

  Wow. This was at a whole new level. People all over the country were starting to do what I was doing. Kids were fighting back against their parents. They were following me.

  Then the weirdest thing happened. I started to cry. I have no idea why, and just a little, I swear.

  Leo stared at me. “Are you okay?”

  I wanted to tell him, yeah, I was okay. I was better than okay. I was awesome. I was the luckiest person in the world. I was Jack Strong, who used to be just another kid at Horace Henchell Middle School, but who was now being talked about by cute older girls in California. I was better than okay. I was freakin’ great!!

  But all I said was, “Yeah, I’m good.”

  34

  STRIKE—DAY 10

  The day of the show, I woke up ridiculously early and couldn’t get back to sleep. I checked my phone. There were good-luck texts from Cathy, Baxter, and Kevin Kessler. (All kids who barely knew my number a week ago, btw.)

  And three missed calls from Lucy Fleck.

  I tried to call her back, but it went to voicemail. No doubt she was doing her early morning studying.

  I was practicing downward dog on the couch when my mom came in and sat in my dad’s favorite chair. The one he used to sit in when he watched TV with my mom, before I took over the room.

  “You’re getting so good at yoga,” she said.

  “Usually I do it with Nana, but she’s not back from the city yet.”

  “Right.”

  My mom picked up a magazine and pretended to read. “Tonight’s the big night,” she said. I noticed how tired she looked and suddenly realized I hadn’t talked to her—I mean, REALLY talked to her—since the whole craziness began.

  “Mom?”

  She looked up. “Yes, honey?”

  “Is everything good with you and Dad?”

  “Everything’s just fine, honey.”

  “That’s good.” I wanted to keep talking, for some reason. “Do you think Dad is going to, like, hate me forever?”

  She put down her magazine. “Jack, you do know your dad loves you more than anything in the world, right?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But this is not easy for him,” my mom said. “He has very, very strong beliefs about how to best raise his only child. And now, he’s embarrassed on top of it. He’s becoming known, completely unfairly, as a crazy dad. People are starting to look at him funny, and people at work are poking fun at him. This is not easy for him, you have to know that.”

  “I totally know that.” After another second, I asked, “But why can’t he just let me quit some stuff? Why is that so impossible?”

  “Because he’s your father,” my mom answered.

  I changed to the warrior position. Nana would have been totally impressed. “Well, what do you think?” I asked my mom.

  My mom sighed. “I think you’re both crazy.”

  I laughed. “That makes sense.”

  “I just hope I didn’t make a dumb decision by letting this TV show happen,” she said. “But maybe we need something crazy like this to help us figure things out.”

  “Right.”

  My mom got up. “I need to go pick up your grandmother at the station.”

  I decided to ask the question I’d been thinking about for the last two days.

  “When is Dad going to be home?”

  My mom stopped and looked at me. “I don’t know if he’s going to make it home tonight, honey. His meetings in Phoenix are still going on.”

  “Oh,” I said. For some reason, I was disappointed.

  My mom could tell, of course, because that’s what moms do. “But he’ll be home tomorrow,” she said, “and everything will be okay. That’s a promise.”

  As she started to walk away, I found myself pulling her back toward the couch and giving her a hug.

  “What’s that for?” she asked, surprised.

  I looked up at her. “I guess just for understanding,” I said.

  My mom hugged me back, and neither one of us said anything for a minute. Finally she let me go.

  “If only you were this dedicated to Chinese,” she said.

  35

  At four o’clock, two huge trucks rumbled up our little street and parked on our lawn.

  “Whoa,” said Nana, peering out the window. After getting home from the city, she’d spent most of the afternoon picking out an outfit.

  I’d spent most of the afternoon practicing my answers to imaginary questions.

  “Yes, Brody, it’s great to be an inspiration to kids around the country.”

  “Yes, Brody, I do miss school, and my friends, but it’s for a good cause.”

  “No, Brody, I don’t have a girlfriend right now, but I’m definitely open to suggestions.”

  When I heard the roar of the trucks, I looked out the window. A huge guy with a beard hopped out of the first truck.

  “Let’s set up the stage right here,” he yelled to the rest of the guys.

  Stage?

  “Use the house as the backdrop,” he continued. “And get that tree in the frame, too. It’s pretty.”

  Soon, eight more guys jumped out of the trucks. Half of them set up a little path of metal sheets, and the rest unhitched the huge truck doors and started rolling off a bunch of giant steel planks.

  The next thing I knew, my mom was running outside at a full sprint.

  “Excuse me, excuse me! Hello? What is all this??!?” she yelled at no one in particular.

  When no one in particular answered her, she went up to the huge bearded guy, who seemed like he was in charge.

  “Can you please move these trucks? You’re ruining my lawn.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, we need to unload the deck for the stage.”

  “STAGE?!”

  The huge bearded guy looked down at her. “Are you Mrs. Strong?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Get these trucks off my lawn.”

  “I’d love to, but I’d get fired,” he answered.

  “Ha-ha,” said my mom. “What’s your name?”

  “Larry,” he said a bit reluctantly.

  “Well, Larry, this is a TV show, not Woodstock. No one said anything to me about trashing my property. So I suggest you move these trucks in the next five minutes or this whole show isn’t going to happen, and then I bet a lot more people will get fired.”

  Larry examined my mom and quickly decided she wasn’t kidding.

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  My mom looked him up and down, then nodded once. “Fine. But if you boys disturb so much as a single dandelion, your lawyers will be hearing from me.” Then she gave him a friendly smile. “I’ll have some lemonade out in a minute.”

  As my mom came back inside, she noticed me. “The things mothers do for their children,” she said.

  Larry the Beard watched her go, then hollered, “Let’s pick up the pace, boys!”

  Sure enough, exactly ten minutes later the trucks were backing off the lawn and heading up the street to the cul-de-sac.

  While the rest of the guys were building the stage, Larry saw me looking out the window and came over. “That your mom?”

  “Yup.”

  He shook his head. “Piece of work.”

  “Hey, watch it!” I said.

  “It’s a compliment, little man,” he said, chuckling. “So you’re Jack Strong.”

  “Yup,” I said again.

  “Cool,” Larry said. “Wait here.”

  “Where am I gonna go?” I said, and he laughed.

  A minute later, he came back with three guys, and they picked up my couch and carried me out to the front lawn in about six seconds. And nobody dropped anything on their toes.


  “So what’s this all about?” Larry asked me, taking a mashed banana out of his jean jacket and eating it.

  “What’s what all about?”

  “This whole strike thing. You trying to get a girl or something?”

  “I’m in middle school,” I said. “I’m always trying to get a girl.”

  Larry roared with laughter, little banana particles flying out of his mouth. “That’s funny, little man!”

  A loud engine got us both to turn around. A huge trailer was coming up the street, followed by one of those fancy SUVs. They both pulled into our driveway.

  I was starting to realize that it takes a lot of vehicles to put on a television show.

  “Walter Cronkite’s here,” Larry said, which I think was some kind of joke that I didn’t get.

  Brody hopped out of the SUV.

  “My guy Jack Strong!” he said, walking up to me and extending his hand. He looked perfect, as usual, except for the fact that he was wearing a bib.

  “Hey, Brody,” I said.

  He pointed at the trailer. “That’s where I’ll be for the next couple of hours, getting beautiful.”

  “Cool,” I said. Shaina Townsend, the woman who did the background interview with me two days ago, was there, too, wearing the shortest dress I had ever seen. She looked at Brody and smiled, and he looked at her and he smiled, and I immediately decided that they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

  Brody turned back to me. “So, we are going to have some fun tonight! Especially with Mrs. Fleck right across the street throwing her own little shindig. Holy smokes, this might be a first, even for me!”

  He slapped me on the back and disappeared into the trailer.

  Sitting there watching the huge stage being built, I decided to take a picture and text it to Leo.

  OMG IT’S HAPPENING.

  Two seconds later he texted back.

  DOUBLE OMG.