When they left, Quixote came over and nuzzled up against my leg.
I could tell—my faithful canine companion still believed in me and my dream.
So did Yertle, my turtle.
The big question, the giant, flying elephant in the room, was…
Did I still believe in myself?
I wasn’t so sure. Especially when I started imagining all those notes and pictures on the wall laughing at me.
Yep. They were laughing out loud!
Chapter 20
Speaking Up for Myself
Luckily, my friends at school still loved my idea.
“We don’t need any more broccoli books,” said Chris Grabbetts. “You know—ones that are supposed to be good for you. We need books kids actually want to read!”
“All kinds of kids,” added Kenny Wilson. “Even kids with a secret identity who might actually be superheroes but nobody knows that about them because everybody thinks they’re just, you know, the captain of the chess team and a grandma’s boy because nobody’s ever seen them in their totally fly superhero costume.”
“Kenny, aren’t you captain of the chess team?” Chris asked.
“Who, me? What! N-no…?” Kenny stammered.
I just sort of nodded, and filed an idea away in my brain for another book: a mild-mannered schoolkid who can turn into a superhero, just like Clark Kent turns into Superman.
“Don’t let anyone discourage you, Jimmy,” said Maxine.
“Not even the inanimate objects on your walls,” added Rafe. “Were they really laughing at you, man?”
“Yep,” I said, tapping my temple. “In my imagination.”
“Whoa. That’s where they’re loudest.”
The bell rang and we all headed off to class.
First period on Monday, I had English with Mrs. Delvecchio. English used to be my favorite subject until I got into Mrs. Delvecchio’s class. I still liked it because I got to spend a lot of time reading stories by amazing authors. Mark Twain. Edgar Allan Poe. Ray Bradbury. But, well, it just wasn’t as much fun because Mrs. Delvecchio didn’t think learning should be fun. It was our job.
“All right, class, kindly put your books away,” said Mrs. Delvecchio, who droned in a monotone. “I’m waiting. Still waiting. Good. Today, we are going to continue our exploration of English and the power of words with another five-minute extemporaneous speech.”
Mrs. Delvecchio was big on what she called forensics. It wasn’t the kind of cool forensics they use on all those CSI shows. This forensics was “the practice and study of formal debate.” We all had to be prepared, at all times, to give a persuasive speech off the top of our heads.
“James?” said Mrs. Delvecchio, checking the list of names in her grade book.
Yep. She never called me Jimmy. She was way too serious for that.
“Today is your lucky day. Of course I say that ironically and somewhat sardonically, two words that are on your vocabulary list this week.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I stood up.
“You can’t use any notes.”
“Notes?” I said with a confident laugh. “I don’t need any notes.”
“Good. Because, as I stated previously, you cannot use them.”
“Yes, ma’am. Right. Got it.”
For the record, Mrs. Delvecchio doesn’t really have what you might call a sense of humor.
“You have five minutes, James. Go!”
I was off like a rocket!
“Ladies and gentlemen, today I’d like to talk to you about my dream. Sometime, very soon, I am going to start a book company for kids that’s run by kids who know exactly what other kids want to read!”
“Woo-hoo!” shouted Chris. “Tell ’em, brother!”
“We’re going to make reading fun for kids because the more something is fun, the more it gets done!”
“That’s right!” cried Kenny.
“It will be the most incredible book company in the entire world. Our books will take kids on exciting adventures! We’ll open their eyes to whole new worlds and new ways of looking at things! My Laugh Out Loud Book Company will have a river flowing through it—a river filled with floating books. We’ll have a Ferris wheel instead of a freight elevator, too! Why? Because Ferris wheels are more fun! And all the employees will ride hoverboards. Real hoverboards. The kind without any wheels! They’ll just float above the floor, the way a good book makes us float above a dull and ordinary world!”
Yep, I gave a very rousing five-minute speech.
All the kids in the class were going wild. They were cheering for me and my dream! They knew my cause was just and right and good!
When I finished at four minutes and fifty-nine seconds, the classroom erupted in applause.
I was a hit!
Until I wasn’t.
Chapter 21
Bursting My Bubble
My hit missed. Big-time.
Mrs. Delvecchio totally burst my bubble.
“James,” said Mrs. Delvecchio, “in my classroom, an extemporaneous talk must be based on facts. Research. It can’t be fiction.”
My buddy Chris raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Grabbetts?”
“Um, how can Jimmy do research if he has to, you know, do the talk without any prep?”
“I expect my students to come to class with solid facts stored inside their brains. Not farfetched, pie-in-the-sky, fantastical castles in the air. I want real-world information. Not make-believe nonsense.”
“But Mrs. Delvecchio,” I said, “this isn’t make-believe. I’m already working on it. I’m really going to start a book company run by kids!”
“Nonsense. Children your age don’t know what children should be reading.”
“We don’t?”
“Of course not.”
Totally defeated, I slumped down in my chair.
“I liked your speech,” whispered Maxine, seated behind me.
“I thought it was awesome,” whispered Chris.
“You are failing the mission!” barked a tinny voice outside the window.
The aliens were back. They’d landed in the school parking lot, just outside Mrs. Delvecchio’s classroom. The guy with the bulging brain bubble and ginormous eyes was glaring at me. Marvin the Martian had his ray gun aimed at me again, too.
“Ooh, you are making me very, very mad!” said Marvin.
“I can’t believe this,” I mumbled.
“That is why you fail,” said Yoda. “Trust your imagination you must.”
“I’m working on it,” I told Yoda. “You should see all the sticky notes on my bedroom walls and ceiling. Patience you must have.”
“My line that is,” he answered back.
“James?” It was Mrs. Delvecchio. “Why are you staring out that window while I am attempting to reprimand you for your shoddy oratorical performance?”
“Um, I was just sort of daydreaming…”
“And that’s precisely your problem. During the day, you’re supposed to work, not dream. School is your job!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You need to grow up, James. You also need to prepare another speech. A speech filled with facts, not flights of fancy.”
“B-b-but…”
“And you never know when I might call on you. Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? I can only offer you two words of advice: Be prepared! Because if you’re not, if your next speech is as awful as your first, you will receive an F in English this semester.”
“Whoa,” said Chris. “That’s kind of harsh.”
“Would you like to give your speech today, Mr. Grabbetts?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
“Then keep quiet. The choice is yours, James. A new, fact-filled speech or an F. And let me remind you: Nobody wants to read a book by an author who received an F in English. That would be like going to a brain surgeon who flunked biology!”
Chapter 22
Be Like Bud
After school, I was kind of, sort of, h
eartbroken and crushed.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I was totally heartbroken and crushed. Despondent, dejected, and downcast, too (because every good writer needs to keep a thesaurus handy at all times).
An F in English, my favorite subject?
An F in English?
That was just wrong. Mrs. Delvecchio was just wrong. Heck, the whole world was feeling wrong and completely out of whack.
AN F IN ENGLISH?!?!?!?
So, after screaming at the sky for a while, I walked to the nearest branch of the San Jose Public Library to think things through.
I started in the fiction section, of course, because I believe you can find the best answers to real-life problems in imaginary worlds.
I picked up a copy of one of my all-time favorites, Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis. It’s my go-to novel when I need a quick refresher on perseverance and not giving up. Bad news (and there’s a ton of it in the book) never seems to get Bud, the main character, down for long.
For instance, when he learns that the woman he’s looking for in Flint, Michigan, has moved to Chicago, he doesn’t quit. “How long would it take someone to walk that far?” he asks. “Fifty-four hours!” he’s told.
That doesn’t stop Bud. He perseveres.
I needed to be more like Bud.
And I wouldn’t need to walk all the way to Chicago to do it—just over to the shelves where the library kept all its business books. If Mrs. Delvecchio wanted a speech filled with facts, I’d give her some. I’d back up my dream with rock-solid research.
Of course, I was the only kid perusing the business section of the library. The only one not wearing a business suit, too.
I grabbed a bunch of titles.
One was called The Disney Way: Harnessing the Management Secrets of Disney in Your Company. That sounded awesome. Hey, I love Disneyland.
I pulled another title off the shelf: The Lean Startup: How Today’s Entrepreneurs Use Continuous Innovation to Create Radically Successful Businesses.
I was so glad my dream wasn’t to start a business-book company. The titles are way too long.
I creaked open the Disney business book.
One of the grown-ups shushed me. His shush was way louder than my creak.
“Did you know,” whispered another grown-up at the reading table, “that eighty percent of all new businesses fail?”
The other grown-up shushed her, too.
That’s when a librarian came over.
“Excuse me, young man,” she said. “Juvenile books are located downstairs in the children’s department. These business books are intended for adults with serious business ideas.”
“But I need to do some research on how to start up my company.”
A giggle bubbled up inside her. “You’re kidding.”
The other two grown-ups covered their mouths and tried not to laugh.
“I’m super serious, you guys,” I told them. “I’m going to start a book company run by kids.”
The librarian laughed out loud at me. So did the two grown-ups in suits. Before long, the three of them were guffawing louder than the laugh track on an old-fashioned sitcom.
Guess they all forgot we were in a library.
Chapter 23
Street Corner Inspiration
I was still feeling pretty low when I left the library.
I’d only had a chance to jot down a few facts for my speech before all the grown-ups laughing out loud at me made it impossible to focus. My notes went something like this: “Write a business plan. Ha, ha, ha. Do market analysis. Ha, ha, ha.”
I still needed more information for my extemporaneous talk, which Mrs. Delvecchio could spring on me as early as the next day!
I decided to head to the nearest grocery store to do that market analysis thing.
But on my way, I saw this kid in a wheelchair.
He was crossing the street and approaching a curb that was maybe six inches tall. Right before he hit the curb, he stopped. I guessed he’d just realized that the city hadn’t made that particular section of sidewalk “wheelchair accessible” yet. There was no built-in ramp or slope. Just that hard ledge.
The kid in the chair grinned and rolled backward a few feet. Smiling wider, he pumped his wheels hard and raced toward the curb to build up momentum. Right before he hit the concrete slab, he leaned back to pop a wheelie!
The instant his front wheels cleared the curb, he leaned forward and brought his rear wheels up and over the cement cliff, too.
It was very inspirational.
I couldn’t help rushing over to tell him how cool he looked.
“Thanks,” he said. “I just can’t stand these sidewalks. Then again, I just can’t stand.”
I laughed. Then I thought maybe I shouldn’t’ve laughed. So I stopped. But then he laughed. So I laughed. It was a regular laugh fest.
In fact, the kid in the chair, who could’ve been grim and sour, was extremely funny.
“Hey,” he said, “have you ever seen an older lady in a wheelchair with a blanket draped over her legs?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t let her fool you, my friend. She’s really a retired mermaid! Well, I’ve got to go. Fortunately, there’s a handicapped stall in the coffee shop’s bathroom.
“That reminds me—the other day, I went to my doctor. I told him every time I drank coffee I got a stabbing pain in my right eye. He said I should take the spoon out of the cup.”
The kid was doing more than making me crack up. He was giving me a cool idea. It wasn’t exactly about my book company. But then again, maybe it was.
I thought about the way he’d attacked that curb when he could’ve just given up. How he could’ve wallowed in the gutter and waited until someone came along to give him a helpful tilt and push.
I thought about the way he laughed and cracked jokes when he could’ve been sad and glum.
How he just wouldn’t give up, no matter what!
Yep. He gave me an idea for a story.
A story about a funny, scrappy kid who won’t give up, no matter what.
For instance, what if that kid in the wheelchair wanted to become a stand-up comic even though he couldn’t actually stand up?
What if he was a kid with big dreams and all sorts of obstacles to overcome, sort of like me?
I was definitely going to turn that story into a book.
And I knew exactly what I’d call it: He Funny.
Chapter 24
Fun Raising
First period the next day, Mrs. Delvecchio called on somebody else to give an extemporaneous speech in English class.
It was totally boring but Mrs. Delvecchio gave the guy an “A-plus, plus, plus!” because it was filled with facts. Yep. It was a real snoozer. There were a lot of heads on desks when he finished. Some open-mouth drooling, too.
“Don’t worry, Jimmy,” said Rafe after class. “You still have time to become that boring. It’s an acquired skill.”
“I read a bunch of business books yesterday,” I admitted. “I’m on my way.”
“Excellent.”
“But I don’t want to be boring,” I said. “I want to tell stories that grab kids’ attention. Not ones that put ’em to sleep.”
“But,” said Rafe, “if you have a bunch of random factoids in your speech, ye shall escape the dragon lady’s lair unscorched! Ye shall dodge her fiery wrath and live to spend another day in the dark and dreary dungeon known as middle school!”
Rafe showed me a drawing he’d doodled in his notebook. It was awesome!
“So,” asked Chris as we all ambled down the hall, “how much money did those business books say you needed to get your book company rolling?”
“A ton,” I said. “Maybe more. To be honest, I sort of skimmed the blah-blah sections with all the numbers. Plus, the books all wanted me to write a business plan when what I really want to write are stories.”
“So we’ll help you,” said Maxine. “How much coinage
do you think you need, right away?”
“It depends,” I said, turning to Rafe. “How much would it cost to get you to doodle a bunch more illustrations like that one?”
“Huh?”
“I want to do an illustrated book. All about a kid in middle school. He’s a round peg in a square hole. He wants to be creative, to think outside the box, but his teachers and the principal just want him to follow the rules and be boring. One of his teachers is a real dragon lady…”
Yes, I was going to write the book I’d imagined back when I thought I had wizarding abilities. (Which maybe I sort of did, since I was able to create stories out of thin air.)
“I just need to buy some fresh Sharpies and a sketchpad,” said Rafe with a shrug.
“And I’ll need enough cash to run off copies of our book,” I said.
“We’ll be your Kickstarter campaign!” said Chris.
“Totally,” added Maxine. “We can raise all the money you need to publish your first book.”
“How?” I asked.
“Car wash!” everybody answered at once.
That weekend, all my friends pitched in. Hailey, Maxine, Kenny, Chris, Steve, Maddie’s little brother. Everybody.
We held a car wash. We sold used books. We had a bake sale.
We had a blast!
By the end of Saturday, we’d raised sixty-three dollars.
It wasn’t much.
But it was enough!
Chapter 25
Buried Treasure
On Sunday, the Laugh Out Loud Book Company’s “Kickstarter” fund took in another seventy-three cents.
And I picked up another idea for a book!
Laugh Out Loud Page 4
