Just Jake #1 Read online

  I smiled to myself, proud of my craftsmanship. “What are Kid Cards?” you ask. Only the coolest thing ever! Think baseball cards, but the team is your school and the players are your classmates. I’ve been a doodler for a while. When I was a youngster, I drew lots of silly stuff, like monsters and spaceships.

  But, as I got older, I switched it up and started sketching just people.

  Way back when, in Mrs. Bucket’s incredibly boring class, I took it to the next level with goofy stick figures of all the kids in my grade.

  Then I added some action and funny captions to keep it interesting. Soon, each kid had his or her own page in my notebook.

  When the notebook got too packed and bulky, I needed to shrink everything down in order to better manage my creations. Also, these beauties are for MY EYES ONLY. I don’t want to share them with anyone. So, reducing each drawing to the size of a playing card made sense.

  But I didn’t stop there. I dropped the stick figures and tried to draw the actual kid. Unfortunately for the “larger” kids, I’m not the world’s best artist. Skinny kids I can draw well. But normal to larger kids end up looking more egg-shaped, like Humpty Dumpty. I’m still working on my technique. Sorry, Frankie . . . at least you won’t crack!

  Lucky for me, my mom had an old lamination machine at home. Strange, right? Yeah, I know, but when I was younger, Mom was an arts-and-crafts queen! We had an entire room filled with beads, ribbons, glue sticks, and fabric.

  I remember making tons of cool stuff with Alexis—back when she was fun and didn’t care about Facebook updates, friends, and the mall! Mom always played classical music, or she’d put on a CD of a bunch of people speaking Chinese. That was weird. As if we could understand what they were saying. Mom said it didn’t matter. It was important to “experience another language.”

  We’d sit for hours doing projects, painting, and playing with Legos. Looking back, we were basically guinea pigs in Mom’s experiment to create supergeniuses. Once again, I can’t complain. Schoolwork, by comparison, is easy. Try being locked in a room all day listening to Mandarin while painting landscapes. THAT’S difficult.

  So I dug out the old laminator, and before long, all the cards looked like they were professionally made.

  I kept my new creations in a small box for safekeeping. I couldn’t risk showing them to other kids because . . . let’s just say many of the cards weren’t exactly flattering.

  But I did take great pride in the cards’ professional appearance, as each was meticulously created, following a strict Kid Card template. Being responsible for each kid’s historical footprint, I needed to be objective and thoughtful in my assessment. Yes, like everything else in life, I took this project SERIOUSLY!

  Here is the template I followed for each Kid Card:

  Opening the Kid Cards box, I gazed down upon my greatest creation—the Oceanview Collection. It consisted of cards of all my Florida classmates, neatly arranged and looking shiny and new. Why did I have to leave? Everything was so perfect.

  But there was nothing I could do. That’s what it’s like being a kid. You go where you’re told. As my dad says, “When you pay the electric bill, you get to decide where things get plugged in.”

  Okay, Dad, I get it, you’re the boss! Hope you like commuting in the snow and ice. And that means no more beach for you either, Big Guy.

  The worst part about the move was how quickly it happened. Seriously, my dad dropped the bad-news bomb about two weeks ago. The next thing I know I’m crammed into the backseat of a Nissan with Alexis the Terrible, staring at a box full of handcrafted memories.

  I didn’t get much time to prepare my school for the big good-bye. I knew there would be lots of tears. Who wouldn’t be upset over losing their school’s most prized pupil? I was like a national treasure.

  I figured they would at least put the flag at half- staff . . . I know I’m still very much alive, BUT my departure meant that AWESOMENESS was leaving the building. Poor kids.

  The morning after I found out, I walked into my homeroom and made a beeline for Mrs. Bunch.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bunch. I have some awful news,” I said, trying to look upset.

  “What is it, Jake?” said Mrs. Bunch, showing great concern, as I knew she would.

  “My dad got a new job in Maryland. We’re moving at the end of the month. I can’t believe it,” I said, tossing in a few sniffs and heavy sighs for effect.

  Mrs. Bunch froze in disbelief, like a statue you see in front of a museum. Her mouth was wide-open. Holy cavities, looks like Mrs. B. loved the candies and soda back in the day.

  I hope I don’t have to call 911. She took it much harder than I expected.

  Awkward silence . . . blank stare . . . MORE silence . . . I slipped back to my desk, allowing Mrs. Bunch more time to process life without me.

  Was I actually more beloved around school than I thought?! And Mom said I needed to “dial it down a bit” with all my self-confidence. What did she know? Ha! I wonder how many teachers she mummified. Next victim, please . . .

  Lunch was the perfect opportunity to rip off the Band-Aid: I’ll tell everyone at once so the whole school can suffer and experience their collective loss together. There is strength in numbers. I saw a giant group hug in my future.

  Going table by table, I explained my situation—the move to Maryland—and said my good-byes.

  Not everyone took the news the same. Some kids openly showed signs of sorrow. The bravest, toughest kids offered words of encouragement.

  “I’m going to miss you, Jake,” said Luke Ridley as he firmly shook my hand and patted me on the back. “But cheer up. Living in Maryland puts you closer to Washington, DC, and cool things like the Supreme Court and Congress!”

  Many, though, held in their tears and masked their true feelings with laughter.

  Molly thought she fooled me when she clapped and let out a loud “HOORAY!”

  I don’t think, so, Molly. I know it hurts.

  By the end of that day, my news had the school rocketing up and down an emotional roller coaster. There wasn’t any relief from the pain until Mrs. Bunch announced that Friday was “Jake’s day.” In just a few short periods, my people rallied together to honor me with a full day of outdoor classes, football, and party munchies. I knew I was going to miss Oceanview! I was going to miss it VERY MUCH!

  Unfortunately for my family—and everyone in town—Alexis didn’t take the move as well as I did. Probably because her teachers and classmates DIDN’T plan a day for her! I could tell she was jealous!

  Her overdramatic reaction to the move was typical Alexis. Lots of tears, girlfriends sobbing, TONS of hugging, and Facebook tributes.

  Every hour, like clockwork, they went into fits of “I’m going to miss you so much!” Then, cry, cry, cry . . . hug it out! Next hour: “I’m never going to have a best friend like you!” Cry, cry, cry . . . hug it out. Next hour: “Remember when we [fill in any stupid story about the mall, the beach, bike riding, etc.]?” Cry, cry, cry . . . hug it out!

  Her friend Mogul—YES! That is her REAL name—offered to adopt Alexis to keep her in Florida forever. I LOVED that plan! But sadly, Mom vetoed Alexis’s adoption.

  Even my parents were losing their patience with the dork circus and their cries of protest. On our last day of school, the dorksters made a huge poster and placed it in front of school. The HILARIOUS thing about the sign was that after reading it, I wondered if Alexis’s “friends” really even liked her that much:

  ALEXIS, YOU’RE A MEANIE, BUT I’M GOING TO MISS YOU!—SANDRA

  ALEXIS! I NEVER MET ANYONE AS FUNNY AND ANGRY AS YOU! DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME!—LIZ

  ALEXIS, YOU ARE SO SWEET AND SOUR . . . YOU’RE ONE OF A KIND! —HILLARY

  Am I the only one who thinks that’s funny? Translation: Alexis, you’re not very nice, and good riddance!


  I’ve been making my case to Mom and Dad about her for years. Now, I had PROOF! When no one was looking, I grabbed the sign, folded it up, and stashed it in my “Jake” box. You never know when that will come in handy.

  My final weeks in Florida went by like a blur. So many good-byes and e-mails were exchanged. Even with the excitement of the move, I tried to enjoy my last days in the Sunshine State.

  I really LOVED Florida. I loved the sun, finding shark teeth on the beach, big gators, Disney, and moss in the trees. With everything going on, I felt anxiety building inside me, like when you drop a Mentos into a bottle of soda.

  I was able to hold it together and maintain my “no worries” exterior. But, inside, I was WAY scared! Scared to go to a new school, scared to live in a new neighborhood, and ultraterrified at the thought of having to make new friends.

  We finally arrived in Maryland. I was excited but WAY tired. Captain Dad told me to unpack boxes in the basement and stay out of his way. No problem. The basement is dark, and thanks to the movers, it now had my favorite couch. It looked like naptime for me!

  Unfortunately, Alexis was well-rested and amped up. Smacking me in the head moments after I got comfy, she demanded I go outside with her to explore the neighborhood

  “Get up, loser,” Alexis snarled. “Time to scope out da hood.” Alexis was rocking a large gold chain from our Christmas-decoration box, and she had her hat on sideways, gangster-style.

  “Are you sure that’s the first impression you want to make?” I asked.

  “We’re from Florida, gotta represent!” Alexis shouted in my face.

  “Easy does it, Lil Wayne. Represent what?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, just trying to reinvent myself here in Maryland. I can be anyone I want to be now,” Alexis said, trying to act all tough.

  “Reinvent yourself? Why? After working SO hard to perfect AWFULNESS, that would be a shame,” I said.

  The punch to my arm hurt A LOT. But, fortunately for her—and my family’s—rep, Alexis dropped the chain and hat combo, and we were soon rounding the side of the house, headed to the street.

  Before I made it to the front yard, Alexis grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me to the ground. With a serious look, she told me to be quiet. She pointed across the street to a large group of kids sitting on our neighbor’s lawn.

  They were all just sitting there, intently watching our house—and our movers. But it was no welcoming party. Must be an exciting neighborhood! Nothing like watching guys go up and down a ramp all day.

  With each item the movers pulled from the truck, the group let out a loud boo or cheer in response to our family’s valuables. I felt like we were auditioning for some sort of reality-TV show.

  And they weren’t exactly a shy bunch of kids. As a new piece of furniture came off the truck, our new neighbors would first huddle up to reach a group decision. Once the verdict was decided, they’d openly display their collective disdain or appreciation.

  When our movers pulled out the lacrosse net, everyone cheered. But Dad’s pinball machine received many thumbs down and a few “What the heck?”s followed by the loudest BOO yet.

  I stayed motionless in the grass, like a young springbok hiding from a pack of ravenous hyenas. THAT’S RIGHT . . . I said springbok. I love Animal Planet AWESOMENESS!

  Alexis wasn’t so intimidated. As a matter of fact, I sensed her blood starting to boil. Before I could stop Ms. Volcanic Anger, she bolted across the lawn looking to make a lasting first impression.

  The unfortunate local hoodlums didn’t realize what was about to hit them. A category 5 hurricane of hurt and pain was about to strike. Oh well, back to Florida.

  Not wanting Alexis to face the mob alone, I jumped up to offer some brotherly support. Staying a good few yards behind, I watched Alexis walk up to the biggest kid and get STRAIGHT UP IN HIS GRILL!

  “Hey, nerd! Why are you stalking our stuff?!” Alexis snapped. It got real quiet, real quick.

  Suddenly, a much smaller girl appeared from behind the others.

  “You better not speak to my brother Jason like that!” said the girl.

  Oh no . . . Alexis snacks on girls bigger than this.

  “What?! Snooki wants a beat-down, too!” Alexis roared. Her internal crosshairs shifted to fix on the quickly retreating girl.

  Just then, I had a flashback to Alexis’s good-bye sign in Florida and how all her friends noted her meanness. True THAT!

  Stepping between an advancing Alexis and his visibly terrified little sister, Jason carefully held up his hands. “Calm down, calm down, newbie. We’re just checking out your gear. Slow your roll!” he pleaded, wide-eyed.

  “Slow my WHAT?! You need to check yourself before I WRECK yourself. How dare you disrespect me and my family! Is this how people in MARYLAND treat their new neighbors?” hissed Alexis.

  “No, no, no . . . we were just having fun. No big deal,” explained Jason.

  Alexis inched closer and closer to Jason’s face. He was easily five or six inches taller than her. But remember, she fears nothing. Having been in this situation myself MANY times before, I knew exactly what was coming. I call it the cobra strike.

  Just when her opponent is feeling most threatened, Alexis will quickly glance away, unclench her fists and act ALL surprised. I have to admit, she is a pretty good actress.

  She sometimes throws in a gasp or a very predictable “O-M-G,” but this is all done to distract her victim. If everything goes according to her plan, Jason will also look away to see what the heck she is staring at. And that will be his BIGGEST mistake.

  Once he’s distracted, Alexis will strike with either: (a) a lightning-quick punch to the stomach, or (b) a flying headlock—her favorite. Either of these will be followed by a double-shoulder-grab-fling to the ground.

  But before Alexis could go into full rumble mode, the increasingly tense confrontation was defused by my mom’s angelic voice.

  “Pumpkin Pie! Jelly Bean! Where are you guys?” shouted Mom.

  MOM!! Those are “inside” names . . . as in INSIDE the house ONLY! They are never to be uttered in the light of day. Is she TRYING to ruin our lives?

  Alexis tried to ignore the voice, but soon my mom saw all the kids and us standing across the street. Of course, she started smiling and waving like she’d just won a game show.

  Alexis knew better than to start any trouble in front of Mom.

  “Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Alexis muttered under her breath as she smiled and returned home.

  Grabbing me by the shirt, she led me back across the lawn to where Mom was waiting—still smiling and waving to the new kids. Unbelievable . . . Sometimes, Mom is clueless. As we walked into the house, new neighbor Jason shouted, “See you later, Pumpkin Pie!”

  The damage was done. THANKS, MOM!!

  The day finally came. The first day at my new school! Can you say NERVOUS? I sure could.

  OOHHHH! BTW . . . I forget to tell you. It turns out, in my GREAT new town, sixth graders don’t get to go to middle school like normal kids. They do things a little different here.

  Sixth graders are still in elementary school!! I thought my mom was kidding when she told me. I already graduated from glorified camp. I DID NOT want to go back to glue sticks, angry hall monitors, and double-spaced book reports. I was already a MIDDLE-SCHOOL MAN! It’s like I was being held back and had to repeat a grade . . . NOT that I would EVER know what that was like.

  Since it was the middle of the school year, I was sure everyone had already found their best friends. And, OF COURSE, the unofficial lunch-table seating assignments had been chiseled in stone.

  But not to worry, I wasn’t going to be that dorky kid who shows up, all new and stuff, and walks up to a table and says, “Ah, excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

  NEVER! That would never be me. No matter how much my “m
ommy” wanted me to be THAT KID.

  “Jake, you just go right into that lunchroom and introduce yourself. Have confidence. You’ll be great!” said my mom—a MILLION times.

  No way. I’m not that kid. Don’t worry; I had plenty of confidence and TONS of AWESOMENESS! But there were certain things I just wouldn’t do. Why? Because I knew how the story would end. If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a THOUSAND times. The new dork always picks the table with the most-popular kids—who happen to be the meanest. His polite request is ALWAYS met with a “No! Are you joking?! Of course you can’t sit here! That seat and EVERY OTHER seat is taken.” Right out of the gate, new dork suffers HUGE, humiliating, EPIC fail.

  While I was strategizing, Mom yelled from upstairs, “Get in the car, Jake, we’re going to be late!”

  No more time to plan; it was time to man up. I tightened the straps on my big-boy backpack and prepared to face my fears.

  I dove into the backseat of the car, and off we went. Mom was rambling on about how Queen Meanie Alexis had gone skipping into middle school an hour before. Of course, Alexis was happy to go to a new school . . . new VICTIMS!

  “I’m so happy for her,” I replied sarcastically. My mom looked at me through her rearview mirror and frowned.

  “Be nice,” she warned. “You catch more bees with honey than hot sauce.”

  Really? Bees? Honey and hot sauce? Really?!

  My mom is the champ at mixing up metaphors. Normally, I’d enjoy correcting her, but right then, I was too nervous. Sweat rolled down my back, and my knees were actually knocking together.