Happy Kid!

Table of Contents

 

 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

A division of Penguin Young Readers Group. Published by The Penguin Group. Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.).

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.

Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.).

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd).

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre,

Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India.

Penguin Group (NZ), Cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany,

Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd).

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue,

Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa.

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.

Text copyright © 2006 Gail Gauthier. All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, G. P. Putnam's Sons, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014. G. P. Putnam's Sons, Reg. U.S. Pat. & Tm. Off.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Published simultaneously in Canada.

Ltd.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Gauthier, Gail, 1953-

Happy kid! / Gail Gauthier. p. cm. Summary: After his mother bribes him into reading a self-help book on how to form satisfying relationships and enjoy a happy life, cynical eighth-grader Kyle finds there may be more to the book than he realized.

[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Self-help techniques—Fiction.

3. Middle schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction.] I. Title.

eISBN : 978-1-101-04280-9

eISBN : 978-1-101-04280-9

First Impression

“Kyle, Lauren, I have back to school presents!” Mom said as she handed us packages at dinner the night before my first day of seventh grade.

This can't be good, I thought.

I still hadn't recovered from my birthday, when Mom had given me a magazine subscription to encourage me to read, a pedometer to encourage me to exercise, and a museum pass to encourage me to be an old fart. A back to school present might be better, I supposed. But probably not.

My sister didn't think so, either.

“You open yours first,” Lauren ordered.

“You're older. You should have to go first,” I shot back.

Lauren sighed and opened her package. “Oh,” she said as she studied the jewel case in her hand. “A computer program for preparing for the PSAT. What an unusual gift. How creative of you to think of it. I'll treasure it always. I—”

“You've probably said enough, Lauren,” Dad said.

“What is the PSAT, anyway?” I asked.

“It's a test Lauren has to take this year as a practice for the Scholastic Aptitude Test she needs to take next year so she can go to college,” Mom explained. “But, uh, you don't need to worry about that for a while.”

“What? You said I don't have to take any more of those big, weird tests after I finish with the State Student Assessment Surveys in eighth grade,” I reminded her.

“What I meant was that you wouldn't have to take the
SSASies
again after eighth grade,” Mom said. “They stop giving them after that.”

“Mom! You said—”

“Don't go off the deep end, Kyle,” Dad said. “I'm trying to eat.”

“I'm not going off the deep end!” I shouted.

“Hey, Kyle,” Lauren said. “Remember when Mom told you you wouldn't have to have any more shots after your last physical? Well, guess what?”

I turned to my mother. “Is that true?”

“I meant you wouldn't have to have any more of
those
kinds of shots. But why are you getting all upset about shots and tests that you don't need to even be thinking about for years? Look! You haven't opened your present,” Mom pointed out. “I saw it when I was shopping one day, and it just
screamed
your name.”

“Open it up and get it over with, Kyle,” Dad ordered. “I'm trying to eat.”

I was backed into a corner with nothing to do but pick up the package and rip the gift wrap off like I would a Band Aid—quickly so the pain wouldn't be dragged out any longe than necessary.

“Happy Kid!”
I read out loud when I saw the cover.
“A Young Person's Guide to Satisfying Relationships and a Happy and Meaning-Filled Life
!
”
I looked at my mother. “
Thi
screamed my name?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Mom admitted. “I was cutting through the book department to get to men's underwear be cause your father needed new briefs. All of a sudden I no ticed something shiny off to my right. It was the ligh reflecting off the gold lettering on that book. I saw the words
Happy Kid
, and your name popped into my mind. Righ then and there I just knew that you could be a happy kid. also, uh, well, I also suddenly experienced a feeling of grea peace.”

I dropped the book onto the table. “That's always a bad sign,” I said.

Lauren agreed with me. “I know I'd be scared to death if suddenly experienced a feeling of great peace while shopping for tightie-whities. Still, I have to admit it, Mom's right. Tha book is you all over, Kyle.”

“Did you save the receipt?” I asked Mom. “Can I return it?

“He took that well,” Dad said as he helped himself to some pineapple chicken.

“Now, Kyle, what have you been taught about receiving gifts?” Mom said. “We aren't always going to get things we like, but we have to remember the effort and thought behind them.”

“Thank you for believing I'm such a reject I need a book on how to be happy,” I said. “I really appreciate the thought.”

“You are most welcome, I'm sure,” Lauren replied as she popped a piece of pineapple into her mouth.

“Lauren, let your mother handle this,” Dad said.

My mother is a child-and-family counselor. She handles everything.
Always.
For
everybody
. Friends, neighbors, people standing next to her in line at the grocery store—if they have a death in their family, a crazy relative, a kid in jail, work problems, car problems, pet problems, or plant problems, Mom will be all over it.

“If only she
could
handle this,” Lauren sighed dramatically.

“A meaning-filled life?” I read again from the cover. “What is that, anyway? And I have satisfying relationships.”

“You have relationships?” Lauren asked. “Since when?”

“Of course your brother has relationships,” Mom said to Lauren. Then she looked toward me. “You just haven't . . . done anything . . . with them lately.”

“Uh-oh. She must have noticed you spent the whole summer alone in the living room watching disaster documentaries,” Lauren said. “And the Sci Fi Channel, of course.”

She just can't shut up. It's like a curse or something with her.

“We care about your happiness,” Mom told me, looking into my eyes with this sensitive, kind expression that must really creep out her clients. “You've changed since you started middle school last year. Even
before
the problem with . . . Mr. Kowsz . . . you weren't happy. You got upset so easily . . .”

“You started getting really hairy, too,” Lauren broke in.

“And you were only in sixth grade. What was with that?”

“Hey!” Dad said. “I'm
trying
to eat.”

“Argh!”

“See what I mean about getting upset?” Mom went on.

“You also saw less and less of your friends last year. You saw no one at all this summer. It's not good for you to spend so much time by yourself.”

“I could have seen Jake Rogers,” I replied. I was beginning to get a little angry because Mom and Lauren were dumping on me. “Would you have liked that? The last two weeks of school last year he wanted to be my new best buddy, you know. And you remember how he kept calling here the first few weeks of vacation?”

“He did seem awfully attracted to your notoriety, didn't he?” Mom admitted. Then a look of panic shot across her face as she realized she'd just admitted that I'd developed a little bit of a bad reputation at school the year before. “Not that you're notorious,” she stammered. “And . . . and . . . I can't believe . . . um . . . that Jake Rogers is the only person you could have seen this
entire
summer. Not that there's anything . . . wrong . . . with the boy,” Mom added quickly.

Sometimes I wonder just how well she does with the child-and-family-counseling thing.

“That's right, there's nothing wrong with Jake,” Lauren agreed. “Except for the little business about being a future criminal. You know, I never understood that saying about people being known by the company they keep until you and Jake started getting so tight. You may not realize this, but he's not going to help your status at school at all.”

“We're not tight!” I told her. “I don't want his company! He wants mine!”