Front and Center
Authors: Catherine Gilbert Murdock
Catherine Gilbert Murdock
Table of Contents
6. A Short Little Genius B-Ball Player
8. There's No Need to Panic, Because Everything's Going to Work Out Fine
11. D.J. Schwenk Is Not Magic Johnson
15. One Possible Benefit of a Subscription to Psychology Today
An excerpt from another critically acclaimed book by Catherine Gilbert Murdock!
G
RAPHIA
H
OUGHTON
M
IFFLIN
H
ARCOURT
B
OSTON
N
EW
Y
ORK
Copyright © 2009 by Catherine Gilbert Murdock
BIRDHOUSE IN YOUR SOUL
By JOHN LINNELL and JOHN FLANSBURGH
© 1991 TMBG MUSIC (BMI) All Rights on Behalf of TMGB MUSIC (BMI)
Administered by WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP. (Publishing)
and ALFRED PUBLISHING CO., INC. (Print)
All rights reserved. Used by permission of ALFRED PUBLISHING CO., INC.
WHY DOES THE SUN SHINE
Words and music by Lou Singer and Hy Zaret
Copyright © 1959 (Renewed) by Oliver Music Publishing Company
and Argosy Music Corporation
All rights for Oliver Music Publishing Company administered by
Music Sales Corporation (ASCAP)
All rights for Argosy Music Corporation administered by
Helene Blue Musique Ltd. (ASCAP)
International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved.
Reprinted by Permission.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Graphia,
an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.
Originally published in hardcover by Houghton Mifflin Books for Children,
an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 2009.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from
this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company,
215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
The text of this book is set in Dante MT.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Control Number 2009024167
ISBN 978-0-618-95982-2 hardcover
ISBN 978-0-547-40305-2 paperback
Manufactured in the United States of America
DOM 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
4500285260
ContentsTo Viviana, who made this possible
1.
B
ACK TO
S
CHOOL
[>]
2.
D. J. S
CHWENK
I
S
#1!!
[>]
3.
C
OLLEGE IN A
S
HOPPING
B
AG
[>]
4.
W
HOOPSVILLE
[>]
5.
S
NAKE
-F
ILLED
E
NVELOPES
[>]
6.
A S
HORT
L
ITTLE
G
ENIUS
B-B
ALL
P
LAYER
[>]
7.
T
RAVELING
[>]
8.
T
HERE'S
N
O
N
EED TO
P
ANIC,
B
ECAUSE
E
VERYTHING'S
G
OING TO
W
ORK
O
UT
F
INE
[>]
9.
H
O
H
O
O
OPS
[>]
10.
S
AME
O
LD
N
EW
Y
EAR
[>]
11.
D.J. S
CHWENK
I
S
N
OT
M
AGIC
J
OHNSON
[>]
12.
O
PPORTUNITY
S
TINKS
[>]
13.
B
ARF
S
HOES
[>]
14.
B
EANER
[>]
15.
O
NE
P
OSSIBLE
B
ENEFIT OF A
S
UBSCRIPTION
TO
P
SYCHOLOGY
T
ODAY
[>]
16.
D
AREY
Q
UEEN
[>]
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
[>]
H
ERE ARE TEN WORDS I NEVER
thought I'd be saying ... Well, okay, sure. I say these words all the time. It's not like
school
and
good
and
to
are the kind of words you can avoid even if you wanted to. It's just that I've never said them in this particular order. Not that I can remember, anyway. But what do you know, there they were inside my head, like a little thing you'd say just to get yourself psyched:
It sure feels good to be going back to school.
Because you know what? It did. It felt really good, actually, even though school hasn't exactly ever been the center of my happiness. Normally it's kind of the opposite, a huge boring thing I have to put up with while I'm waiting for practice to start. Or a game, if it happens to be a game day, when the clocks go fifty times slower than they normally do and you can't hear a word the teacher says, your head's so on the court already. But today I was actually looking forward to it all, actually looking forward to the classes and the teachers and even those stupid crackly announcements. Because today, after five months of sheer absolute insanity, my life was finally getting back to normal.
No more football: that was one good thing. The season was over at last, so now I didn't have to worry about everyone in the state of Wisconsin jawing about how weird it was for a girl to be playing, and then jawing about how terrible and awful and un-team-spirit-like it was for me to quit even though I wasn't
quitting,
I was just saving my shoulder, which you'd think no one had ever heard of before, a player leaving because of an injury. But now hoops season was starting up, which is what I'd been saving my shoulder for, for basketball, and no one would jaw about me for even a second except to say stuff like "Nice shot" or "When's your next game?" which is the kind of jawing I've been hearing forever and don't mind at all. So that was one good thing.
Plus I was home at last. At the moment I was driving to school, duh, but officially I was at home instead of at a huge shiny hospital, trying to convince my oldest brother not to kill himself, and then once he got his spirit back trying to convince him not to kill
me
because he was so desperate to boss someone around. Now Mom got to be that victim, which she was actually happy about because she's a mom, and instead I got to live in our beat-up old house, eating real home-cooked food if you call what Dad makes food, and drive our beat-up old Caravan, and that was totally A-okay with me. Even the cooking.
But most of all—and this is what I was looking forward to the very, very most—I was done with all that
boyfriend
crap. Finished with the 24/7 Brian Nelson cable station that had been running nonstop inside my skull since July. No more feeling like I was some fluttery girl who doesn't have anything better to do all day long than think about her
boyfriend.
Because I did have better things to think about, thank you very much, because I am not the kind of girl who has boyfriends; I'm the kind who's just friends with boys, which is totally different and which I'm actually kind of good at. I'd pulled the plug on that Brian Nelson cable station for good.
That's why it felt so nice to be getting back to school. Because after five months I was back to being plain old background D.J. That's how I thought about it, anyway. In photographs of course I'm always in the background—it's a family joke that us Schwenk kids could go to school naked on picture day because we're all so crazy tall. But I mean that I was returning to the background of life. Where no one would really notice me or talk about me or even talk
to
me much except to say "Nice shot," and I could just hang out without too many worries at all.
Anyway, the words
normal
and
background
and
basketball
were kind of percolating through my brain—kind of the way water glugs in those big coffeepots they rev up after church, although without that coffee smell—as I drove along with Curtis.
"So," I said, feeling normal and happy enough to take a stab at a real normal conversation.
Curtis flinched, sitting there next to me. There are rabbits, wild rabbits, calmer than my little brother, the way he acts sometimes. Then he hunkered down in his seat. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's okay. I was just wondering how Sarah's doing."
Again: making conversation. Not even using the word
girlfriend.
But Curtis's ears turned red like I'd asked him to walk through town in his underwear.
"I mean, maybe you could have her over sometime. For supper or something."
Which made Curtis go even redder. He hunkered down further and started picking at his jeans like they were so fascinating that no one could possibly be interested in anything else. "Yeah. Maybe." He didn't say anything else either, for the rest of the ride. Not one word.
So much for making conversation.
I pulled up to the middle school. Curtis heaved up his backpack, heavy even for him. "See you," he said, because Mom taught him that one little bit of manners at least.
"Five-thirty, right?"
He nodded. Then, his legs already out of the Caravan, he turned back. "So, I was wondering how Brian was. Maybe you could have him over for supper."
My jaw dropped. Literally. I could not
believe
he said that. Of all the mean, thoughtless ... And then I saw his mouth twitch and I finally got it: he was teasing me.
I lunged at him but the seat belt caught me, and then he was out of the Caravan, grinning like a maniac and hustling into the building with a crowd of kids half his size.
What a total little—I mean, here's a kid who talks less than a
rock,
and it turns out the whole ride he'd been planning how to bounce back what I'd said. If it was anyone else rubbing it in about Brian, that would be one thing. But Curtis—that's like getting mad at your dog. Although if Curtis kept pulling stunts like that, maybe I'd have to stop thinking of him as some poor little house pet and start thinking of him as a smart-mouthed kid who maybe needed a lesson on respect.
At least I was prepared for all the questions about Win. In just the few days I'd been home, wandering around town after Thanksgiving, I'd learned that pretty much every single person in Red Bend considered it their personal duty to grill me on how he was doing every single time they saw me. Once on Saturday I let on that I was getting really tired of having to repeat this conversation, and old Mrs. Ingalls looked so upset that I felt twice as bad about hurting her feelings as she probably did about Win. That's when I learned just to say, "He's doing okay, thanks," and leave it at that.
That's how it went in school, too, practically every kid asking, "How's Win?" Or "Is he walking yet?" because everyone has this huge hang-up about walking, like it's the most important thing you can do after you break your neck. And every time I'd answer, "He's getting there" or "He's working hard," instead of saying that these days Win was working mostly on feeding himself and that maybe in the big picture of life being able to eat without assistance is a lot more important than managing a few little steps. I sure thought it, though.
I had to check in at the main office first thing, turn in these forms showing I'd been absent twenty-seven days on purpose and not because I'm a juvenile delinquent. Mrs. Henning asked about Win of course, and was telling me that if there was anything we needed just let her know, like I would obviously think of her first, when there was this huge yell of "Geronimo!" and I had enough sense to brace my feet just as Beaner leapt up onto my back.
Beaner Halstaad is as skinny as a string bean and has more energy than a jumping bean. He'd started doing this jump-on-my-back thing during football, and I guess he hadn't gotten tired of it yet. Right away he started pounding on my shoulders. You're back, dude! That's so awesome! Check it out, Mrs. Henning. She's back! Isn't that awesome?"