Despite all attempts to avoid reading and extra work, Charlie Joe Jackson finds himself in a terrible dream he can't wake up from: Camp Rituhbukkee (pronounced "read-a-bookie")—a place filled with grammar workshops, Read-a-Ramas, and kids who actually like reading. But Charlie Joe is determined to convince the entire camp to hate reading and writing—one genius at a time.
Tommy Greenwald's Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Summer Vacation is another fun installment in the life of a reluctant reader.
Despite all attempts to avoid reading and extra work, Charlie Joe Jackson finds himself in a terrible dream he can't wake up from: Camp Rituhbukkee (pronounced "read-a-bookie")—a place filled with grammar workshops, Read-a-Ramas, and kids who actually like reading. But Charlie Joe is determined to convince the entire camp to hate reading and writing—one genius at a time.
Tommy Greenwald's Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Summer Vacation is another fun installment in the life of a reluctant reader.
Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Summer Vacation (Charlie Joe Jackson Series #3)
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Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Summer Vacation (Charlie Joe Jackson Series #3)
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Overview
Despite all attempts to avoid reading and extra work, Charlie Joe Jackson finds himself in a terrible dream he can't wake up from: Camp Rituhbukkee (pronounced "read-a-bookie")—a place filled with grammar workshops, Read-a-Ramas, and kids who actually like reading. But Charlie Joe is determined to convince the entire camp to hate reading and writing—one genius at a time.
Tommy Greenwald's Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Summer Vacation is another fun installment in the life of a reluctant reader.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781596438804 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Roaring Brook Press |
| Publication date: | 05/07/2013 |
| Series: | Charlie Joe Jackson Series , #3 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 240 |
| Lexile: | 800L (what's this?) |
| File size: | 4 MB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
TOMMY GREENWALD has enjoyed reading all his life, which is why he's appalled that his kids Charlie, Joe and Jack, would prefer getting a dental check-up to checking out a book. After years of pleading, threatening, and bribing, Tommy finally decided the only way to get his kids to read was to write a book about how to get out of reading. The Charlie Joe Jackson series is the result. And they read it! (So they say.) The Executive Creative Director at SPOTCO, an entertainment advertising agency in New York City, Tommy lives in Connecticut with his wife, Cathy; his non-reading sons, Charlie, Joe and Jack; and his dogs, Moose and Coco.
Illustrated by J.P. COOVERT.
Tommy Greenwald has enjoyed reading all his life, which is why he's appalled that his kids Charlie, Joe and Jack, would prefer getting a dental check-up to checking out a book. After years of pleading, threatening, and bribing, Tommy finally decided the only way to get his kids to read was to write a book about how to get out of reading. The result was Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Reading. And they read it! (So they say.) The Executive Creative Director at SPOTCO, an entertainment advertising agency in New York City, Tommy lives in Connecticut with his wife, Cathy; his non-reading sons, Charlie, Joe and Jack; and his dogs, Moose and Coco.
JP Coovert lives in Cincinnati, Ohio where he uses his time making as much rad artwork as possible. On the side, he co-runs a record and comic label called One Percent Press. He's written and drawn almost 50 comics, including his ongoing series, Simple Routines. JP Wants to create cool stuff forever, like illustrating every animal on the planet, creating a library full of kids books, and painting a mural on the moon!
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
I knew what the place was going to be like as soon as I saw the sign on the way in to camp.
CAMP RITUHBUKKEE: MOLDING YOUNG MINDS SINCE 1933
I'm sorry, but I don't want my mind to be molded. Mold is gross. It reminds me of that green stuff that grows on bread. I hate mold.
I'd prefer my mind deep fried, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and then covered in chocolate sauce.
*
On the surface, Camp Rituhbukkee looked like pretty much any other nice summer camp. It had a big lake for swimming, a basketball court, a tennis court, and baseball and soccer fields. The campers lived in cool log cabins in the woods, and the dining room was huge, with big wooden tables and chairs everywhere. There was a room for arts and crafts and stuff like that, and a theater where you put on shows.
It was actually a really nice place, if you were able to forget about what you were there to do.
Which was read and write.
Even though Katie and Nareem were at camp with me, I couldn't stop thinking about everybody else back home. Mostly I thought about the awesome and amazing Zoe Alvarez, my almost-girlfriend. She was the only girl who could ever compare to the awesome and amazing Hannah Spivero. I missed Zoe already, and I'd only been gone five hours. I also thought about the rest of the gang — Jake, Timmy, Pete, and yeah, Hannah. I pictured them at the beach, having a great time doing nothing; or at the movies, eating French fries and talking about what a loser I was. Which is exactly what I would have been doing if I were them.
Sadly, though, I wasn't them. I was me.
And so, instead of having a great time doing nothing, I found myself standing with all the other campers, in a giant circle around a flagpole. Because it was the first day, we had to do what was called the "Welcome Ring." Meaning, we all held hands and sang the camp song, which was called "Learning To Love, and Loving To Learn."
That's pretty much all you need to know about that song.
I stared at Katie and Nareem, who were singing at the top of their lungs. "Are you guys serious?"
Katie giggled. "Charlie Joe, you're at camp now," she said, while somehow managing to not miss a note. "Stop being such a Negative Norman and get with the program."
"But I'm not with the program," I explained. "I'm very much against the program."
"I still can't believe you decided to attend the camp, Charlie Joe," Nareem said. "You are not someone I normally associate with books and reading and learning."
"Ya think?" Katie added, which made them both giggle all over again.
I rolled my eyes and pretended to sing, until finally the song ended. Then an extremely tall man with extremely short shorts stepped into the center of the circle. All the kids clapped, until he put his hand up to stop them. They stopped immediately.
"Greetings, and welcome to Camp Rituhbukkee!" the tall man announced. "Welcome back, to those many familiar faces I see. And to those newcomers, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Malcolm Malstrom, but you can call me Dr. Mal. I'm not a medical doctor, though, so if you get sick, don't call me at all." He paused for laughter, and it came in a huge wave. Which was strange, since what he said wasn't actually funny.
"We're all excited for another wonderful season here at Rituhbukkee," Dr. Mal continued. "We've got many new surprises in store to make this our best summer ever."
I looked at Katie as if to say, Seriously?
She looked back at me as if to say, Behave.
Dr. Mal glanced down at his clipboard. "Before we go to our cabins to get settled in before dinner, I wanted to mention one last thing." He smiled like a dad who is about to give the most awesome present ever. "This year, we'll be introducing the Rituhbukkee Reward. This extraordinary honor will go to the one camper who best displays the camp's core values of integrity, community, and scholarship."
Everybody ooh-ed and aahh-ed.
"The winner of the Rituhbukkee Reward," Dr. Mal added, "will be awarded a full scholarship to camp next year, at absolutely no cost, and will be admitted to the counselor training program when he or she reaches the appropriate age."
The oohs and aahhs turned into excited squeals of delight. Even Katie and Nareem were nodding happily.
"Sounds more like a punishment than a reward," I whispered, a little too loudly. The girl on my left looked at me like I'd just eaten a plate of fried slugs.
Katie tried to shush me, but it was too late — it turned out that Dr. Mal had really good hearing.
He walked over to me. "Hello, young man."
I looked up at him. He was really tall. His face was a long ways up. "Hello, sir."
"Call me Dr. Mal," he said, smiling. "What's your name?" "Charlie Joe Jackson."
"Ah yes," said Dr. Mal, nodding. "Mr. Jackson. You come to us with a bit of a reputation."
"Thanks," I said, even though I was pretty sure it wasn't a compliment.
"I'm glad you're here, even if you consider it a punishment," said Dr. Mal, putting his big hand on my shoulder. "Can you tell us what it is you hope to learn here at Camp Rituhbukkee?"
I said the first thing that popped into my head, which was exactly what I told Timmy and Pete, my friends back home, when they asked me the same thing.
"I hope to learn how to read while napping."
Everyone gasped, then went silent. Nobody moved. I think even the birds stopped chirping.
Oops.
Katie gave me the classic eye-roll.
But Dr. Mal never stopped smiling. "So you're not a fan of reading."
"Nope," I said proudly. "In fact, I've pretty much never read a book all the way through, except under emergency circumstances beyond my control."
I expected the kids to laugh, like they usually did when I made a joke. Instead, they all just stared at me. Some were even whispering to each other, pointing at me, like who is this guy?
I did notice one kid who looked like he was about to laugh — but he was wearing a Harvard T-shirt, so I immediately ruled him out as a fellow book-hater.
Dr. Mal nodded again. "In that case, do you mind if I ask you why you've joined us here at camp?"
"Good question, Dr. Mal. I guess I did it to make my parents happy. It was a moment of weakness, to be honest with you."
That line would have gotten a laugh back home too, for sure. But not here. It was like I'd entered some kind of permanent Opposite Day, where the dorks were the cool kids, and the cool kids — or at least the funny kids — were the outsiders.
Dr. Mal looked down at his clipboard again, then nodded at a big guy who was standing across the circle. "It seems you'll be in with Dwayne, who's one of our best counselors." Dwayne nodded back without smiling. He was by far the least nerdy-looking guy at the whole place. He looked more like a marine than a counselor.
Dr. Mal headed back to the center of the ring. "You may find, Charlie Joe, that you're more like your fellow campers than you realize," he said. Then he looked me right in the eyes and added, "We'll make you one of us yet."
Make you one of us?
Oh, please. I would never become one of them.
But ... I started thinking ... maybe I could make them one of me!
I realized it would at least be a way to make the next three weeks bearable. I could help these kids change their ways. I could turn them into normal, non-reading people.
I would save them from a life of dorkdom.
CHAPTER 2
The next thing on the fun-filled agenda was to unpack. Nareem and I started walking down the path to our cabin.
"I think you may have gotten off on the wrong foot with Dr. Mal," Nareem said. "He's actually a really good person. I think you'll like him once you get to know him a little better."
Before I could compliment Nareem on his optimism, two kids came running up. One was the tallest kid I've ever seen in my life, and the other was the Harvard T-shirt kid who'd almost laughed at my joke during the Welcome Ring.
Judging by the way they ran, I was pretty sure neither of them were the captains of their football teams back home, if you know what I mean.
"Nareem!" they both shouted.
Nareem broke into a huge grin. "Dudes!"
They did that weird half-handshake-half-hug thing that friends do when they haven't seen each other for a while.
"Charlie Joe, I want you to meet George Feedleman and Jack Strong, two of my best buddies here at camp."
George was the giant one. I shook his hand first.
"Hey," I said.
"Nice to meet you," George said. "Welcome to camp, the most awesome place on earth."
I did a private eye-roll but tried to play nice. "Yeah, cool."
"George is the smartest human being on the planet," Nareem announced.
"That's great," I said.
The Harvard T-shirt kid stuck out his hand. "Jack Strong."
I looked at his scrawny body. "Is that really your last name?" Jack blushed. "I know, it doesn't really fit."
"I wasn't thinking that," I lied.
Jack smiled. "You were pretty funny at the Welcome Ring."
"Thanks," I said. "But not funny enough to make anybody actually laugh, I guess."
Jack shrugged. "And get in trouble on the first day? Are you serious?"
"Not usually."
That time he actually did laugh.
I pointed at his Harvard shirt. "What's that about?"
"Oh, nothing," Jack said. "I might apply there someday. It's super hard to get in, though."
"Isn't it a little early to be worrying about stuff like that?" I asked.
"Jack thinks about colleges a lot," George interrupted. "Or should I say, his dad does. He's super-intense about that kind of stuff."
Jack looked embarrassed for the second time in eight seconds, so I decided to change the subject. "Guys," I said, "Nareem here says that Dr. Mal is a great guy. Can that actually be possible?" "It can," said George.
"It totally can," said Jack.
Okay, so that's how it was going to be.
"Dr. Mal asked a good question," Jack added.
"Why are you here? You said it was to make your parents happy, but is that really the only reason?"
"I'm also hoping to meet some awesome girls," I said. "Can you guys help with that?"
Nareem, George, and Jack looked at each other.
"No," they all said, at the same exact time.
CHAPTER 3
Our cabin, which held eight campers, was called the Roald Dahl cabin. (All the cabins were named after famous authors, btw. I was just glad I wasn't in the Mark Twain cabin. He and I haven't gotten along ever since my sixth birthday was ruined, when my dad gave me the entire Mark Twain collection as my only present. I still shiver just thinking about it.)
When we walked in, the other four kids were busy unpacking. I introduced myself around. They all seemed like okay kids, but I could tell they were all a little weirded out by my argument with Dr. Mal. They definitely weren't used to having a non-reader among them. Plus, they each had at least one really weird habit:
• Eric Cunkler spoke three languages, but barely talked at all.
• Jeremy Kim sneezed about twenty times a minute and kept a year's supply of tissues under his bed.
• Kenny Sarcofsky had decided he'd live foverer if he ate a lot of garlic, so he smelled a little "different."
• Sam Thurber never changed his underwear (according to Nareem) but already had a short story published in The New Yorker magazine.
And then there was Nareem, George, and Jack, whom you've already met, and our counselor, Dwayne, who actually seemed like a pretty cool guy, in an "if you mess up I will kill you" kind of way.
Anyway, that's my cabin and the kids who were in it. Sounds like quite a gang, right? Do you want to guess who was the outsider in the bunch?
That's right.
Me.
Dear Zoe,
I've been at camp for two days already! I can't believe how fast the time is flying by!
Not.
How are you? I'm so glad I got to know you this year. I think it's good we decided not to go out while I'm at camp, though, don't you? But that doesn't mean we can't go to the movies or something when I get back. Hopefully that's okay with you.
Katie and Nareem say hi. They love it here, which I'll try not to hold against them. They hang around together a lot, by the way. As for me, I haven't exactly made a ton of friends so far. I think some of the kids might even consider me a bad influence. I don't know where they get that idea from.
Write back soon. Hopefully we can hang around together when I get home. Let me know about the movies thing.
Your friend, Charlie Joe
CHAPTER 4
So one of the first things I realized was that if I was going to make the other kids less nerdy, I had to start slowly. It's not like I could convince the entire camp to hate reading and writing in one day. I needed to take it one camper at a time. I started with the biggest, brainiest, and tallest genius of them all.
George Feedleman.
Rumor had it that George's IQ was so high it broke the machine. George was one of those kids who was so smart, he understood things on some super secret level. Kind of like the way dogs hear sounds.
It was the second day of camp, and we were in The Write Stuff workshop. I'd plopped down in the back row, which was traditionally my favorite row.
No one joined me.
"Lots of room here, people," I said. "The back row is where all the action is."
No one cared.
Eventually, I got Katie and Nareem to sit next to me. "Don't worry," Katie said, patting my knee. "They'll eventually get used to your strange ways."
George sat two rows in front of us. About ten minutes into class, I decided to make my move. I tossed a wadded-up piece of paper at him.
"Pssst!"
No response.
"Pssst!" I said again, a little louder. The other kids started staring at me. Finally George turned around.
"What?" he said, with irritation in his genius eyes. Even though we'd had a few conversations, he was still suspicious of my unstudious nature, like everybody else.
I pointed at George's paper. "What are you working on?" He shrugged. "Nothing. Just an analysis of class structure in the works of Emily Brontë."
"Emily who?"
"No one," George said, turning back to his work.
"Cool," I said. Then, after a small pause, I added, "I'm writing a letter to this girl back home."
"You are relentless," Katie whispered at me, her eyes never leaving her paper.
"Is 'relentless' good?" I asked her.
"No."
I turned my attention back to George. "Her name's Zoe."
He looked up. I could tell he was interested, even though he didn't want to be. "Is she your girlfriend?"
"Nah. I mean, we kind of like each other, but we're not going out or anything."
George nodded. "Good for you."
He glanced nervously at the workshop leader (or what in normal society would be called a teacher), whose name was Ms. Domerca. I'm pretty sure George had never talked in class in his entire life, unless it was to correct teachers when they were wrong.
Ms. Domerca seemed really nice and funny. She also dressed in the craziest clothes I've ever seen in my life. She was busy helping another kid out with his paper, so the coast was clear.
"What about you?" I asked George. "Do you have a girlfriend?" George looked at me as if I'd just asked him if he had a dead body buried in his backyard.
Before he could answer, a really cute girl with red hair named Cathy Ruddy shot daggers at me with her eyes. "Leave him alone, he's working," she said. "You should try it sometime."
I smiled at her, but she didn't smile back.
"Do you?" I asked George again.
He threw his pencil down. "No I don't have a girlfriend! Um, I mean, not yet. I'm totally planning on getting one next year, though."
"What are you waiting for? There are a lot of really nice girls right here at camp." I pointed at Cathy. "Did you see how Cathy just stuck up for you? I bet she would go out with you."
"What makes you think that?" said a voice that was definitely not George's. Or Cathy's.
I looked up. Ms. Domerca was standing over me in her green and orange shirt.
"Hi," I said.
Ms. Domerca laughed. "Two days in, and I already know who my troublemaker is. Usually it takes a week, at least." Then she pointed at George and me. "Back to work, both of you," she said, as she walked away.
"Thanks a lot," whispered George.
"No problem," I said. George shook his head and turned back to his paper.
I wasn't done, though.
"Pssst!" I said again, this time to Cathy Ruddy.
"What is wrong with you?" she hissed.
"Would you consider going out with the smartest kid in America?" I asked her.
"I'm assuming you don't mean you."
"Right."
Cathy took a long look at George.
"Maybe," she said. "But only if you leave us both alone."
George stared down at his paper, his face turning bright red. Then he looked at Cathy, and for just a second, it seemed like he couldn't care less about class structure in the works of Emily Brontë.
Like I said, people, one camper at a time.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Summer Vacation"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Tommy Greenwald.
Excerpted by permission of Roaring Brook Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Epigraph,
Prologue,
Week One: Camp Jockstrap,
Week Two: Campers Unite,
Week Three: The Little Yellow Schoolhouse,
"Learning to Love, and Loving to Learn",
"Wocka! Wockajocka!",
Acknowledgments,
Copyright,