Jack Strong Excerpt

7/29/2019 Jack Strong Excerpt

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TOMMYGREENWALD

Illustrated by

MELISSA MENDES

ROARING BROOK PRESS NE W YOR K

Illustrated by

ING BROOK PRESS NE W YORK


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PART 1

BEFORE


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1I was about to go to soccer practice when I de-

cided to go on strike.

I didnt mean for it to become this big thing.

I was just feeling kind of tired, thats all.

But the next thing I knew, there were two big tele-

vision trucks outside my house.

There was a stage on my front lawn, with lightsmounted on twenty-foot poles. There was a television

host sitting right next to me. There was an audience

gathered in front of the stage, full of people. Half of

them thought I was a hero, the other half thought I

was a menace to society.And they were all there because ofme.

Just because I sat down on a couch.

Who wouldve thought?!

But first, a little background information.


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My name is Jack Strong, but I used to wish it

wasnt.

I know, it sounds like a cool name. And it wouldbe

a cool name, if I actually were strong. But Im not. Just

lifting my ridiculously heavy backpack in the morning

is a challenge.

The truth is, Im kind of weak.

Which the other kids think is hilarious, of course.

I go to Horace Henchell Middle School. Its a

typical middle school. The classrooms are way too

hot, and the cheeseburgers are

way too cold. No one knows who

Horace Henchell is, but itsgenerally assumed that he is

both well respected and dead.

I do really well

at the school part of

school. My gradesare excellent, and

the teachers like

me. I dont make

trouble.


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5

The non-school part is a little harder for me. Im

not what you would call a loser or anything, but Im

definitely not at the top of the heap, either. Im in that

huge middle section of kids who mind their own busi-

ness and try to get through the day without any real

drama. Usually it works. Im not a great athlete, and I

dont think the modeling agencies will be calling any-

time soon, but some people seem to think Im pretty

funny. Every once in a while I make a joke in class that

the other kids laugh at, and thats enough to keep me

off the list of dorks and lame-os, at least for the time

being.

I have one really good friend, Leo Landis, who Iveeaten lunch with every day since second grade, and

one really bad enemy, Alex Mutchnik, whos hated me

ever since he was caught cheating off my math quiz

last year. (I didnt tell on him, but he hates me any-

way.) Alexs favorite activities are knocking my back-pack off my shoulders and gluing my locker shut.

You know, typical school stuff.

But I definitely dont hate school. Theres a lot

about it that I like.

For instance, theres Cathy Billows, whos so pretty

that it makes my eyebrows hurt. Theres Mrs. Bender,


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my favorite teacher, whose tiny but unmistakable mus-

tache makes me smile every time I see it.

And theres the bus ride home.

The ride home is incredibly important because its

the one time of day I have completely to myself. I al-

ways sit in the same seat: third row back, window seat

on the left. The seat next to me is usually empty, but I

dont mindit gives me a place to put my backpack.

And as the bus slowly rolls away, I gradually begin to

put the school day behind me.

Have a nice night, Horace, I say. And then

using my jacket as a pillowI rest my head against

the window, smile, close my eyes, and think about myabsolute favorite thing in the world.

The couch.

To someone who doesnt know any better, our couch isno great shakes.

It has one or two rips in it, from when my dog,

Maddie, makes herself comfortable a little too aggres-

sively. It has plenty of stainssoda stains, sauce stains,

chocolate stains, and several mystery stains. And it

might not surprise you to learn that it smells a little,


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too. My mom always talks about getting rid of it, but

I wont let her.

Because to me, that couch represents everything

good.

Its where I watchDancing with the Chimps, my favor-

ite TV show. Its where I play Silver Warriors of Doom II,

the video game that Leo and I would happily play

until we are old men, if only our parents would let us.

Its where Maddie lies down on my lap, even though

shes way too big to be a lap dog.

Its where I daydream about Cathy Billows.

Its where I forget about Alex Mutchnik.

Its where I eat a huge bowl of Super Fun Flakiesevery day after school.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the

picture. The couch is pretty much my favorite place in

the world.


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The only problem was the outside world kept inter-

rupting.

Because heres the thing: I was probably the most

overscheduled kid in the entire universe. Or, at least,

I was tied with all the other overscheduled kids. And

there wasnt anything I could do about it.

And then came the week of June 6.


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2It all started after school on Wednesday, June 8. I

was just settling in on the couch.

JACK!

I prepared myself for the second blast, which was

definitely coming.

Wait for it . . .

JACK!There it was.

My mom ran into the room.

Have you seen my phone?

My mom is the worlds absolute greatest person,

but she has two problems: she can never find herglasses and she can never find her phone. Sometimes,

the fact that she cant find her glasses means that she

cant see well enough to find her phone.

No, Mom, sorry. I havent.

She sighed. Well, what else is new? Dad is going

to kill me. The one thing my dad cant stand is when


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he tries to call my mom and she doesnt answer. Which

happens probably around, oh, lets say sixty-two times

a day.

Mom slapped my leg. What did I say about leav-

ing your shoes on in the house?

Whats the point of taking them off ? I com-

plained. I just have to put them back on in ten minutes

anyway.

Still. That was my moms answer for everything,

when she didnt have an actual answer.

My grandmother, whom I call Nana, came into

the room from the kitchen. Nana is seventy-four years

old, but she has more energy than anyone in the family.Shes my moms mom, but my dad thinks of her as his

mom, too, since his parents died a pretty long time ago.

Nana was eating a tongue sandwich, as usual. She

loved tongue, which may be the grossest meat ever in-

vented by man. I think its from a cow. She made me tryit once. It was so salty my mouth dried up on the spot.

Its also bad for you. Its especially bad for people with

heart problems, like Nana, but she didnt care.

How can you eat that? I asked, which was the

same question I asked every time.


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You dont know what youre missing, she said,

which was her usual answer. Want to watch my story

with me? A story is one of the daytime reruns sheloves, usually old crime shows like Law & Order or

Magnum, P.I. or something like that. Shes also a TV

news and politics junkie, I think mainly because she

loves talking about how wrong most people are and

how the country is falling apart.I cant, Nana. I have to go to swimming.

Nana shook her head. Swimming schwimming.

She looked at my mom. Why do you make this boy

run all over town doing silly things? Cant he just sit

and relax with his grandmother? Is that so wrong?


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My mom shrugged as if shed had this conversation

a thousand times, which she had. Its important to

stay active, she said. It helps kids stay focused.

Says who? asked Nana. You or Richard?

Richard is my dad.

I dont have time to talk about this right now,

grumbled my mom. Then she glared at me, as though

it were my fault she had a mother. Go get your bath-

ing suit.

Nana waved her arms in disgust as she took a seat

on the couch. It was an ongoing argument in our

house. My dad wanted me to be in afterschool activi-

ties pretty much every waking hour. He said it wouldmake me well rounded and help me figure out what I

was most good atmy thing, he likes to call it. Then,

once I discovered what my thing was, I could focus

on it and get great at it before applying to college.

That was the plan, anyway.My mom didnt care nearly as much as my dad did

about that kind of stuff, but she trusted him, and usu-

ally went along with what he wanted.

Meanwhile, Nana and I thought the whole thing

was a little crazy. I dont even like swimming. I mean,

swimming in a pool at a friends house on a hot


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summer day is one thing, but going to the Y after a

long school day is not my idea of a good time. But my

parents thought it was important for me to become a

good swimmer. Just like they thought it was impor-

tant that I study Chinese, play soccer, learn the cello,

volunteer at Junior EMTs, and have a math tutor.

And that was just during the week. On the week-

ends, you could throw in Little League and youth

orchestra.

I think maybe its because Im an only child that

my parents pay so much attention to me, and shower

me with love, and help me find a gazillion ways to im-

prove myself. Or maybe its because practically everyparent in America is obsessed with making sure their

kids are experts at every activity ever created by

humans.

Whatever the reason, I was busy twenty-four hours

a day, seven days a week. And even though I didntlike it, I accepted it. Just like most kids accept it. Be-

cause were too lazy not to.

Anyway, I got my bathing suit and off we went. I

turned the car radio up, and my mom immediately

turned it down.

How was school today?


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Alex Mutchnik decided it would be funny to tape

my hair to the desk.

My mom smacked the steering wheel. Im going

to call his mother!

No, youre not.

She looked at me, which was a little scary, consid-

ering she was also driving the car at the time. She did

that a lot. That kid sounds like such a nightmare.

He is a nightmare, but hes my nightmare, so let

me deal with it. Your job is to watch the road, so you

can drive to the Y without killing me.

My phone buzzed. I didnt recognize the number.

Who would be calling me? The only person who everreally called me was Leo.

Hello?

Hi, Jack? Its Cathy!

My heart did a weird little somersault. Cathy Bil-

lows. The prettiest girl in the entire state, last I checked.Callingme! My first thought was that she needed help

on a homework assignment or something.

I tried to play it cool. H-hey, Cathy. Wh-wh-

whats going on? Playing it cool is hard, it turns out.

Not much! Cathy is one of those girls who al-

ways talks in exclamation points. How about you?


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Im on my way to swim class.

Oh, awesome! Not really, which we both knew.

Well anyway, Jack, I just wanted you to know that Im

having a party Friday night to celebrate the end of the

school year, and I thought you might want to come!

Me?

Yup! Cathy giggled. Everyone in homeroom is

invited, so we can tell stories about the whole year!

You can tell a funny story or something, since youre

kind of funny. Itll be great! Please comeit will be so

much more fun if the whole class is there!

Oh, wow, that does sound like fun. I think I must

have turned some strange color right about then, be-cause my mom looked at mestill driving, of course.

Who is it? she whispered, way too loudly.

Watch the road, I whispered back, turning to-

ward the window.

I spoke quietly into the phone. Well, um, I have toask my parents, but yeah, Id totally love to come.

Awesome! Bye! And just like that, she was gone.

A potentially life-changing conversation, over in less

than a minute.

I put the phone in my pocket and prayed that my

mom wouldnt start firing questions.


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Who was that? What did they want?

My prayers went unanswered.

Nobody, and nothing. We were almost there. I

found myself actually looking forward to getting out of

the car and going to swimming.

Oh come on, tell me, badgered my mom. It

sounded like a girl.

I dont want to talk about it right now, okay? The

truth was I didnt want to talk about it ever. Because I

already knew there was a problem with Cathys invita-

tion, and I was pretty sure there wasnt a solution.

My mom sighed. Okay. She could be annoying

sometimes, but when it came right down to it, she re-spected my privacy. Shes pretty cool that way, I guess.

When we got to the Y, I hopped out of the car be-

fore my mom could think of any more questions.

See you in an hour, I said, sprinting up the steps.

I could barely hear her say, Okay, honey. I loveyou, before the door closed behind me.

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