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Overview
Ever since twelve-year-old Josh Kline found an antisemitic note in his family’s mailbox in third grade, he has felt uncomfortable about his Jewish identity. At a new school where he’s pretty sure he’s the only Jew, he’s hoping to just keep religion out of everything . . . until the morning someone sprays swastikas all over the building. That’s when everything changes.
In one of the school counseling groups set up in response to the attack, Josh finally reveals that he is Jewish, and quickly finds out there’s more to the other kids in his grade too: All of them have their own struggles. Maybe Josh can do something to help—to “repair the world” as his rabbi teaches, by starting a Do More club to spread kindness. But making a difference is never simple, even when you have new friends by your side.
Fast-paced and conversation-starting, Josh’s story is an empowering examination of prejudice, bullying, and how to take the first step toward change.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780593532881 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Penguin Young Readers Group |
| Publication date: | 08/29/2023 |
| Sold by: | Penguin Group |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 368 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
| Age Range: | 10 - 14 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
my life
can sorta be split
into
before
and
after.
before the
swastikas were graffitied
all over
my middle school
and now
after.
to be honest?
i liked it
better
when everyone
wasn’t talking
about
jewish things.
i hear before
mom and dad hear,
which is
weird
because parents should def
know about big things
that happen
before kids do
so they can explain things
to their kids
so that their kids
aren’t so
scared.
(i am scared.)
but in middle school
one person finds out
about something and then
it’s all over
social media
and that
is
that.
when i was little
i would creep into
mom and dad’s room
while it was still
dark.
i would go in there
about everything
from the
boogie man to
weird noises.
so i guess
that’s why
i end up
standing at
the foot of their big bed
again.
i don’t want to wake them
but i don’t want
to be
alone.
mom does this thing
whenever she gets
woken up real suddenly.
she sort of yelps
and pops up,
shouts loud,
“josh? what’s wrong?”
“something happened,”
i whisper.
by now
dad’s up too
and i am frozen there
not really wanting to say
much else.
i answer in
simple sentences.
graffiti.
school.
police.
i don’t know.
i don’t know.
i don’t know.
i’m anxious
inside.
my chest
is cold and
icy feeling.
it’s something
i’ve never felt before
ever.
sitting in
silence
while we eat
bagels and cream cheese
is not normal for
us.
the silent part,
i mean.
no one says
a word.
every once in a while
mom’s phone dings.
all the sixth-grade moms are
talking about
what happened too.
well, it’s not
okay
at all.
which is exactly what mom wants to talk about
every five seconds
and i keep
saying,
“yes
i’m fine.”
but the truth is
if i really think about
how much
it bothers
me
then i’ll
have to
admit
that for the
first time ever
i wish
i wasn’t
jewish.
things like this
aren’t supposed to
happen
here.
everyone is still
texting about what happened.
it’s kinda like
kids
have never heard
about
swastikas
nazis
or that jews are a hated
group of people.
every kid is surprised
but i’m not.
ever since the bagel-mailbox
thing that happened
when i was
eight.
i’d never thought
that kind of thing
could happen
again.
but as mom says,
“never say
never.”
i just
don’t
get why they
are so
surprised that
bad people
attack
jewish people
i’ve been learning about this stuff
since third grade
in hebrew school,
in synagogue,
at home.
i guess
i wish i didn’t know
so much more
than
the rest.
it’s not like my school
or town
is a bad place.
it’s just not that
diverse.
except for mr. g.
and our new principal
everybody is white and
christian.
mom and dad
went to the meet and greet
a few weeks
ago
excited
to meet
dr. harris.
she’s jewish
like us
and i think that made them feel comfortable.
maybe that’s why
my insides
are so
worried.
’cause i’m
wondering
if the
graffiti is
because
of dr. harris and
if it is
well
i’ve got
zero
words.
the tv stations
have vans parked
up and down
the road in front of
school.
i know
because kids
keep posting
on social media.
it’s like when the temp
gets to 100 degrees
and every
single kid posts a picture
of the car thermometer.
i’m so sick of
every
single
kid i know
talking about this thing
that happened to
my school,
because it feels like
the swastikas
the words “die jews”
all in red spray paint
written on
the bricks
the sidewalk
the doors
the windows
and “gas the jews”
written on
the “no place for hate”
banner
feels way more about dr. harris
and me
the only jewish kid
than it is
about my school,
washington middle.
my plan
to get
away from all this
talk
is to hide in my room.
this way
i don’t have to
see
mom whispering to dad
his worried
face
their phone calls
to
our old rabbi
in our old town
and to our new rabbi
in our newish
synagogue.
it makes me
want to turn
my music
loud
and shut it all
out.
which is why I turn off my
phone
because all the buzzing and beeping
is driving me
nuts.
when the bagel-mailbox thing
happened
i was short
for a third grader and
had to stand on my toes
to reach
the envelopes.
i pulled the
door
down
stuck my hand inside
but yanked it back
super quick.
mom tells the story that i shouted out
scared.
yelling for her to come.
she ran and grabbed
my hand
holding it
away from
my clothes she sniffed and
announced,
“shaving cream.”
she yelled for dad
and they walked me into the house
together.
i started crying
mostly because of their faces.
mom poured me
milk and fed me three oreos
which never
happened.
but what i remember most
was dad
coming back in
not too much
later.
he was quiet
and just looked
at mom
and placed a big shaving cream-covered
bagel
on the
counter
and a note that said:
“eat this,
jews.”
lots of people eat bagels
but
jewish people
eat them more.
bagels in mailboxes
are not
funny.
bagels in mailboxes
filled with shaving cream
are meant to be
rude
like “we know you are jewish
and we want to make your mailbox
hard to clean.”
which is why
when i moved to my new school in
fourth grade and
i heard all the last names
being called out on the first day of school
and none of them sounded jewish
i didn’t tell anyone
that i
celebrated hanukkah.
we didn’t start
at the new
synagogue
until the summer after fourth grade ended.
it took us months
to find the perfect one.
especially
when there weren’t any
close by
like in my old town.
the thirty-two-minute drive
feels like double that.
rabbi marx is goofy
and nice
and it kind of feels good
hearing his voice on the
phone
talking to
mom about how
to talk to me
about this
thing
that just
happened.
mr. dave,
my hebrew school teacher from
last year,
taught us about
anti-semitism.
he taught us
about how stereotypes
grow over time
and how jewish people have been
blamed for different things
throughout history.
which,
looking back,
made my decision to
keep my religion a secret
a smart choice.
mom and dad
mr. dave
rabbi marx
my sunday school class,
those are the only people
who need to know
especially
after what happened.
i’m real glad
it’s the weekend
because
i don’t wanna be
sitting in every
class with every
kid talking about
what’s going on.
it’s like the
graffiti
is about
me
but it’s not
because nobody knows
what i am
so why
does it feel
like it’s totally
about me?
our superintendent is
the person in charge
and sends an email
to parents saying
something is happening when we get back on monday,
we are all going to
“come together
to fight this
act of cowardice.”
i guess we’ll see
what happens.
but in my head
all i can think is:
can a school of kids
who didn’t even
know
what a swastika was
possibly begin to get it?
and i think a lot
about dr. harris
and wonder
if she feels
like me
or if because she’s a grown-up
maybe it doesn’t feel as bad?
the longer-than-long
drive
to hebrew school
feels like
one hundred and thirty-two
minutes today.
as much as i’ve tried
and tried
to shut out all the
noise,
every hour
brings more
and more
about the graffiti.
a lot of kids in my hebrew school class
go to
the jewish day school
that’s 15 minutes
farther from my house than
temple beth israel (tbi for short).
the rest go to parkward middle school
where there’s a lot more diversity.
their
“no place for hate”
banners
must mean way more than
our school’s
where every kid looks the same and
believes the same things.
it’s as if
the sameness
is what made this
act of hate
possible.
ms. brooke
my hebrew school teacher
looks
sad-serious
not like her normal
happy self.
rabbi marx has on the same
face as hers
as he walks toward mom, dad, and me.
but when he sees
me it’s like a switch turns on
and his smile comes quick.
“hey, josh!”
he fist-bumps me and i force a small smile back.
as soon as we pass, i turn back
and see his smile
disappear.
usually mom and dad don’t
come into synagogue with me
on sunday mornings
so, already it feels not-normal
but today we are all expected to be in the sanctuary.
and there’s no hiding.
mr. dave leads our class in
with the others.
rabbi marx raises his hand high in the air and
everyone quiets right away. i catch dad’s eyes across the room.
he sticks his tongue out
real quick
and the butterflies
stop
for a second.
rabbi marx says all the things you would expect
him to say:
this is horrible
we will overcome this
we will not let history repeat itself.
even though our synagogue is thirty-two minutes
away
you would think it happened right here.
i can see it on the faces of the parents.
but it didn’t happen here.
it happened
in my small town.
i guess
an attack
on some jews
is an attack on all jews.
no matter
how close or
how far away.
my class walks to our room
in silence.
the adults have moved into the multi-purpose room
to eat bagels
and schmooze.
max, whose jokes are usually funny, announces,
“well that was
awkward.”
normally, i’d laugh or roll my eyes
but the crack
in the wooden desk
holds my
stare and i wish
i could dive down into that space
and push out all
my worries
about
going back to school tomorrow and
“my obligation as a jew to speak up”
and most of all
the scared feelings in my head.
community members
speak out
on the news,
say things
like,
“we are deeply disturbed.”
“this should not
have happened
here.”
“the perpetrators
will be
found and
charged.”
“we will not stand for this.”
and too many other
woulda
coulda
shouldas
to count.
i spend part of sunday night watching the group chat
with my classmates
mac, shay, christian, patrick, austin, and cassidy
which started as a science class chat
where we’d complain
about too much homework
mr. houser’s too-smelly coffee breath and his
too-boring lectures.
but it has blown up
big-time and now
they all just say the same things
like,
“i can’t believe that happened.”
“i can’t believe someone would do this to our school.”
“did they catch who did it?”
i get so sick of the same words
going round
and round
that i put my phone under
my pillow
ringer off
trying to block it all
out.
today is gonna be
super weird.
the whole school
is meeting in the auditorium.
the only times we are
all together like that
are for the first day rah-rah speech
the holiday concert
and the last day of school
awards ceremony.
so that’s why
it feels so
strange
odd
weird.