Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up (2 page)

At the bus stop, several other children were also waiting, including Charlie Joe's neighbor, Timmy McGibney. Charlie Joe and Timmy didn't know each other very well, and they didn't like each other very much. Charlie Joe thought Timmy was irritating. Timmy thought Charlie Joe was annoying.

“Say hello to Timmy,” Mrs. Jackson told Charlie Joe.

“Hello,” said Charlie Joe—but he said it to the ground, not to Timmy.

“Say hello to Charlie Joe,” said Timmy's mother.

Timmy just grunted.

The bus came, and a lady got out. She had a vest that said
BUS MONITOR
on it.

“Okay, kids, this is it!” she announced. “Time to make it happen! This is going to be the most fun day ever!”

Charlie Joe burst into tears.

“I'M NOT GOING! I HATE SCHOOL!”

His parents gently guided him toward the bus, but he wasn't making it easy for them.

All the other kids turned and watched. So did all the other parents, even though they pretended not to.

“SCHOOL IS FULL OF BOOKS AND OTHER TERRIBLE THINGS!” wailed Charlie Joe.

Finally, after much pulling, pushing, begging, and promising of after-school ice cream treats, Charlie Joe got on the bus.

“I just want you both to know that I will never forgive you,” he told his parents.

A single tear ran down his mom's cheek as the bus drove away, while his dad kept waving long after the bus had drifted out of sight.

Finally, Charlie Joe's parents looked at each other.

“I thought that went well,” his dad said.

 

2

9:12 am

I was still lying in bed
when I heard eight legs charging down the hall.

“Moose! Coco!”

My two favorite people in the whole world—even though they're not technically people—rounded the corner into my room.

“Get up!” they said with their tails. “Get up now!”

So I did, kind of. I got up, but then I fell down onto the floor and let them jump on top of me like they did every morning.

It's the best way to wake up, by the way. I highly recommend it.

After two minutes, though, I noticed that Moose was watching more than playing. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

“You are so lazy,” I told him. He answered me with a single thump of his huge tail. He knew that I knew he wasn't lazy. Moose was just getting old. It happens young with dogs.

“Let's go downstairs, you guys,” I told them, and they followed me into the kitchen. My sister, Megan, was already there, scarfing down her breakfast. You know how you hear about those girls who are obsessed with their weight and don't eat enough? Megan wasn't one of those girls.

“Jeez, save some for the rest of the country,” I told her.

Her answer was to open her mouth wide, revealing a soggy mountain of partially chewed scrambled eggs.

I gagged. “Eeeew!”

She opened her mouth wider. “Happy birthday, baby brother!”

“You are beyond gross!”

“You are beyond annoying!”

My mom immediately went into peacemaker mode, which she actually didn't have to do all that often, because believe it or not, I really like my older sister. “Honey, I'm making your birthday breakfast specialty,” my mom said.

I felt my mouth start to twitch. “Wait. Chocolate chip pancakes?”

“Yup.”

“Sweeeeet!” I poured myself a glass of milk to get ready.

My mom sipped her coffee. “Megan was just telling me about her summer job.”

Ack!
Summer job? That sounds like one of those oxymorons teachers keep telling us about. Like jumbo shrimp. Or good book.

“What kind of job?” I asked.

I waited while Megan took a ten-second swig of orange juice. “I'm working at the yoga place as a babysitter.”

I snorted. “Oh. I thought by job, you meant, like, actual
job
. As opposed to lying on a couch texting your friends while some kiddies watch
Sesame Street
.”

Megan was about to throw a piece of toast at me, but my mom stopped her. “That's not fair, Charlie Joe, and you know it,” Mom said. “Looking after children is very hard work.” She shot me a look. “I should know.”

“Yeah,” said Megan. “And what about you? You're graduating middle school; that means soon you'll be old enough to get a job, too, so watch it.”

“Never!” I said. “I'm never going to have a summer job. And if I do, it will be at a summer camp, teaching napping.”

“Well, you're very good at that,” my mom agreed.

The oven dinged.

“Ah, the muffins,” said my mom. “Charlie Joe, I'm going to need you to bring these across the street to the new neighbor.”

Noooo!
First I had to deal with talk of a summer job, and now I'm supposed to bring muffins to some strange old man who just moved in across the street?

“On my birthday? Why?”

“Because it's the nice thing to do, that's why.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, why do you have to be so nice all the time?” I whined. “The rest of us have to pay the price.”

“Come on, it's not going to kill you,” she said. “He seems very friendly. Someone told me he's a writer.”

“Now Charlie Joe is definitely not going,” Megan said, between forkfuls.

“Can I bring the dogs?” I asked.

“No, you can't bring the dogs,” answered my mom. “Stop asking if you can bring the dogs everywhere you go. Normal people don't do that.”

“Dad does,” I reminded her.

“My point exactly,” she said.

 

3

10:18 am

The house across the street
used to be occupied by the Kellys. Audrey Kelly, who was a few years older than Megan, wanted to be an actress. Actually, it was her mom, Eileen, who
really
wanted Audrey to be an actress. They decided to move to New York City to be closer to all the agents and people like that. On the day they left, we were waving goodbye when my dad said to my mom, “Should we tell them that Audrey has no talent?” My mom thought for a second and said, “It might be a little too late for that.”

They ended up selling the house to this older guy. I'd only seen him once, through a window, watching a giant TV. But now, here I was, ringing his doorbell with a plate of muffins in my hand.

The door opened. The man looked even older in person.

“Yes?”

“Uh, hello, sir. My name is Charlie Joe Jackson. We live across the street. My mother made muffins for you.”

The man peered at me through thick glasses. For a second, I thought he was going to tell me to scram, because you always think that old people are going to tell you to scram. But instead, he broke out into a big smile.

“Well, that's mighty kind of your mom,” he said. “My name's Ted. Would you like to come in for a short minute?”

I had to decide whether to be honest or be polite. “Uh, okay, sure,” I said. My mother would have been proud. But she wasn't even there to see it. What a waste.

We went into Ted's kitchen, where he poured me a glass of juice. “Seems like a fine neighborhood,” he said.

“Yeah, it's great.” I took a sip. “Do you have kids or anything? I mean, most people who live around here have kids.”

Ted sat down next to me with an old-man sigh. “Well, yes I do, but they're older,” he said. “In fact, they have kids of their own. That's the whole reason I bought this house. It's nice and small, so I can manage it, but I've also got a yard, and a neighborhood full of kids, for when my grandchildren come visit.”

I nodded. “That makes sense. All I know is, my parents are glad you moved in, because they were really worried someone was going to tear this house down and build one of those ridiculously huge, gross mansions.”

“Not me.” Ted chuckled. He got up and brought a bowl of grapes over to the table. We each helped ourselves. “So tell me, young man, how old are you?”

My phone buzzed. “Sorry,” I said to Ted, as I checked it.

“Quite all right,” he said, laughing softly. “I'm used to it.”

It was a text from Katie Friedman:
just found out, no swimming today at Jake's party!
I texted back:
It's all Jake's mom's fault.

I put my phone away. “That was my girlfriend, Katie.” I still felt a little proud whenever I said that, even though we'd been going out for a while. “We're going to a barbecue later at my friend's house to celebrate graduating from middle school.”

“Middle school!” said Ted, clapping his hands together. “Wow.”

“I know, I can't wait,” I said.

Ted frowned. “You can't wait for what?”

“To graduate,” I explained. “To go to high school. I mean, I'm a little nervous I guess, but it's going to be so cool being with the older kids!”

Ted took a sip of his juice, which was purple and smelled like something an old person might drink. “Let me tell you something, young man. I would give anything—and I mean
anything
—to be back in middle school again. To be so young, without a care in the world, just having fun and trying to learn a few things along the way—now that's what I call perfection.”

“Yeah, but—” I hesitated, reluctant to call an old man by his first name.

“Ted,” he said, reading my mind.

I exhaled. “Yeah, but Ted, can't you always have fun, no matter how old you are? I feel like the thing is, at a certain point you grow out of middle school.”

“You're right,” said Ted. “At a certain point you
do
grow out of middle school.” He popped the last grape into his mouth. “And therein lies the pity. We all grow out, and we all grow up.”

I scratched my head. “There
what
lies the
what
? And what's wrong with growing up?”

Ted suddenly jumped up with the speed of someone approximately fifty-five years younger. “What was your name again, son?”

“Charlie Joe.”

“Well, Charlie Joe, do you know something? I'm a writer. In fact, I'm a writer of books for people just like you. Do you like to read?”

I hesitated. Wow, that was a loaded question. Reading and I have a long, checkered history.

“It's complicated,” I said.

“Well, I have something for you,” Ted said, bounding into another room. “Let's call it a graduation present!”

“What is it?” I called back, smiling at the thought of a sweet DVD collection, or maybe a new video game that just came on the market.

“A book!” sang out Ted.

ACK!

“A what?”