Copyright © 2014 by K.A. Holt.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Holt, K. A., author.
Rhyme schemer / by K.A. Holt.
pages cm
Summary: A novel in verse about Kevin’s journey from bully to being bullied, as he learns about friendship, family, and his talent for poetry.
ISBN 978-1-4521-2700-2 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4521-3243-3 (epub, mobi)
1. Poetry—Juvenile fiction. 2. Bullying—Juvenile fiction. 3. Friendship—Juvenile fiction. 4. Families—Juvenile fiction. [1. Novels in verse. 2. Poetry—Fiction. 3. Bullying—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Family life—Fiction. 6. Humorous stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.5.H65Rh 2014
[Fic]—dc23
2013032175
Design by Jennifer Tolo Pierce.
Typeset in Susan Classic and Flyerfonts.
Chronicle Books LLC
680 Second Street
San Francisco, CA 94107
Chronicle Books—we see things differently. Become part of our community at www.chroniclekids.com.
To my parents, Don and Carole Holt,
who made sure I grew up with a pen in one hand
and a book in the other
Contents
DAY 1 1
DAY 2 3
DAY 3 5
DAY 4 8
DAY 5 10
WEEKEND 16
DAY 6 18
DAY 7 28
WEEKEND 31
DAY 15 35
DAY 16 38
DAY 17 46
DAY 19 48
DAY 20 50
WEEKEND 51
DAY 23 53
DAY 24 55
DAY 25 60
DAY 26 62
DAY 9,342 66
DAY I DON’T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE 68
WEEKEND 70
DAY 30-SOMETHING 72
TUESDAY 78
WEDNESDAY 80
THURSDAY 84
FRIDAY 92
MONDAY 97
LATER MONDAY 98
TUESDAY 100
THURSDAY 103
LATER THURSDAY 105
FRIDAY 106
LATER FRIDAY 112
SATURDAY 113
MONDAY 117
TUESDAY 118
THURSDAY 120
FRIDAY 124
DINNER 126
FRIDAY NEVER ENDS 128
FRIDAY NEVER ENDS, THE OUTSIDE OF THE RESTAURANT EDITION 129
FRIDAY RESCUE 133
OPEN MIC 137
MONDAY 140
TUESDAY 142
TIME STANDS STILL (AKA: HARTWICK’S OFFICE) ((AGAIN)) 145
WEDNESDAY 152
THURSDAY 156
FRIDAY 161
Acknowledgments 165
NECKTIE POEMS 168
About the Author 171
DAY 1
First day of school.
My favorite.
Easy prey.
Giant John.
A parade float of himself.
Freckle-Face Kelly,
like a painting
by that one guy
who drank too much beer
and went crazy.
Robin is so short.
I am a dinosaur
stepping on his lunch.
Plus,
his name is Robin.
So many
weenies.
So little
time.
King of the seventh grade
can’t choose his own throne.
Assigned seats.
Not everyone’s favorite.
Not my favorite.
But you know what?
My seat is next to
Freckle-Face Kelly.
Connect the dots,
all
day
long.
Day 2
My brother Petey is in a band
so he always plays air guitar
while he lurches us over curbs
and through red lights
when he drives me to school.
His band is called
The Band with No Name
because it has no name.
Duh.
He and his bandmates can only think of
lame ideas for names.
Like the Flaming Turtles
or Midnight Pukefest
or Mustache Farm.
My ideas are great
but he never listens to me
only to music
with too many guitars.
I could learn the guitar.
Mrs. Smithson.
My teacher.
She has this mole.
I’ve named it Harry.
Not because it IS hairy
but because it’s not.
That’s called
irony.
I think.
Harry gives a shake
when Mrs. Smithson
sneezes
turns her head
walks too fast
laughs
hollers.
If Harry changes color
I would suggest
Mrs. Smithson seeks
a doctor
more makeup
a bag over her head
a Band-Aid
a black pointy hat.
DAY 3
Sometimes I wonder
about the coffee cups.
Every teacher has one,
even the PE teacher
who has so much energy
he seems to float just above the gym mats.
What’s in those cups?
Witches’ brew?
Ugly potion?
Bad hair broth?
It smells like coffee,
but judging from their breath
I’m sure it’s way worse than just that.
I found the page in an old book.
No one will miss it.
No one reads those old books anyway.
The words just jumped out at me
like tickly little fleas
needing a good scratching.
So I scratched them.
And no one will know it was me.
I stuck it on the wall by the lockers
when no one was looking.
I couldn’t help it.
I thought people would laugh.
People did laugh.
A lot.
Until Mrs. Smithson yanked it down.
She was not laughing.
DAY 4
If I was
short
wide
freckle-faced
I would beg for home school
or a ticket
on a boat
to Siberia.
Watch out, Sideshow Robin.
I’d take the long way to recess
if I were you.
I only suggest this
as a friend
because Giant John looks
grumpy
tired
hungry.
He might mistake you
for lunch.
Wait.
Can you take a boat
to Siberia?
DAY 5
The tires squeal
like Petey’s car is making the road
screeeeeeam
in pain.
Get out.
I pull my backpack onto my shoulder
put my hand out
a fist bump
to say good-bye.
He just leaves it hanging.
A lonely bumpless midair fist.
I said, get out.
So I do.
Th
e road screams again.
Petey and his air guitar are gone.
My fist hangs at my side now.
Heavy as a stone.
If I am stone
my fist is a gargoyle, scaring people away.
If I am stone
I don’t have to answer questions in class.
If I am stone
I don’t have to listen to all the boring things.
If I am stone
I am unbreakable.
If I am stone
My foot is jagged, cold, strong.
If I am stone
I don’t laugh when Robin trips on my jagged foot
and slides down the aisle between desks
like he’s a pebble rolling downhill.
I’m not always stone.
Mrs. Smithson.
That old meanie
with Harry the mole
jiggling in my face.
She made me go see
Hartwick.
Dun
Dun
Dun
Duuuun
He called my mom
but she didn’t answer
so he gave me a warning.
BE NICE
OR ELSE
What a jerkface.
As a side note,
I have composed an ode
to Hartwick’s tie:
O, Principal’s tie
You make me want to cry
Because you are the color of
An armadillo butt
Another old book.
Another old page.
Just a quick sneak into the library.
Riiiiiiip.
The trick is to do it fast
when someone is sharpening a pencil.
Noise camouflage.
(A good name for a band.)
A secret message
left from a secret word scratcher.
The teachers are not happy,
and that makes it even more fun.
WEEKEND
When I’m old
enough
I’ll leave
this place.
Will Mom cry?
Will Dad miss me?
I can see them now
laughing together
about one less mouth to feed.
Will they worry?
Will they care?
Mom can use my room
for emails and bookshelves.
She will like that.
We are not rich,
though people think we are.
I’m sick of it.
Get it?
Sick?
’Cause Mom and Dad are doctors.
If we were rich I’d have a dirt bike
instead of four brothers.
Patrick, Paul, Philip, Petey.
One two three four barf.
At least I have my own room.
DAY 6
Numbering the school days
in this notebook
might be
a
Very
Bad
Idea.
It’s making the school year
long
longer
longest.
And the second week
just started.
I don’t know a lot about tornadoes,
but I saw one last year.
Longest five minutes of my life.
Even longer than the
first week of school
which was just
really
freaking
long.
That tornado looked like
someone was putting our
street into a
blender.
Chunks of road mixed with cars.
Trees mixed with windows.
The noise was
so loud.
It was so loud it was almost quiet.
Like how every color mixed together
makes the color
white.
No one was home except for me and Petey.
His face, the same green as the sky,
his feet stuck to the carpet
like the trees used to
stick in the
ground.
Come on! Come on! Come on! I shouted
and he wouldn’t move.
He wouldn’t move.
We were easy prey.
So I grabbed him
by the shirt
and pulled
and pulled
and pulled.
Then he was with me in the Harry Potter closet
under the stairs
my arms over
his head.
And the blender roared by
and Petey cried hard
with my arms still there
still over
his head.
And then the big, messy racket was gone.
Petey sniffed real big and said
What are you staring at?
YOU’RE the baby
in this
family.
And he’s hated me.
Hated me
ever
since.
I feel like that tornado,
that blender in the sky,
jumped down my throat
and is now buried inside.
The blob of sauce
drips off his ear
in
slow motion.
His empty bowl
sits on his head
a
crooked hat.
My hand on my mouth
not really covering
the
snorts of laughter.
Spaghetti and meatballs
as
Robin’s hair.
Robin
doesn’t think
it’s so funny.
Neither does
Harry
the mole.
Now I wait for
Hartwick.
Again.
If I stare at the stain on the ceiling
I don’t have to stare at Hartwick
while he says
Woh woh woh
and tells me to
STRAIGHTEN UP.
He called my mom
but she didn’t answer.
Again.
So he gave me
another warning.
But
THE NEXT TIME
he says
while I stare at the stain
THERE WILL BE MAJOR CONSEQUENCES
. . .
MISTER
He is still
a jerkface.
As a side note,
I have composed another ode
to Hartwick’s tie:
[Clearing throat noise here]
O, Principal’s tie
You make me want to puke
Because you are the color of
Squishy, moldy fruit
There is this word:
Hubbub.
It sounds like someone trying to talk
while blowing a big gum bubble.
Today, there was a hubbub.
I put the stolen page on the door to the front office
when I had a hall pass for the bathroom.
Then it was B lunch
and everyone saw it.
Who is doing this?
the kids ask with a laugh.
The teachers ask with dragon breath.
I’m not telling.
DAY 7
Late.
Petey’s fault.
He was supposed to drop me off
in front.
Instead, I had to walk
six
whole
blocks
so he could take a shortcut
to Lacey’s house.
Giant John was late, too,
which was good.
I had something soft to punch
to make my
day
better.
Sort of.
Lacey Lacey Lacey
She’s the only thing Petey
ever
ever
ever
talks about.
Unless he talks about his band
or how much he hates me,
which are both tied for his
second favorite
topic.
If Petey says
one
more
time
how lucky I am to be the baby
to get everything I want
I will smack him
even if he smacks harder.
I don’t get everything I want.
I get nothing.
I get Sort it out, boys!
I get Paul, help Kevin with his math.
I get My shift starts in 30 minutes,
Petey will take you to school.
Doesn’t Petey see?
I don’t exist.
I had to walk six blocks
because of
Lacey Lacey Lacey
and get a tardy
and a detention for hitting Giant John
because of Petey.
Who is not—technically—the baby.
Anymore.
WEEKEND
There’s this one channel with all the reruns.
It’s my favorite.
It’s where I met Cliff Huxtable.
Cliff Huxtable is a doctor
like my dad.
Delivers babies.
Has a bunch of kids.
But he’s always home playing boring games
like chess
with his million kids.
My dad is NEVER home.
He never plays boring games.
Or any games.
He says that’s just TV,
Dr. Huxtable being home all the time.
But you know what?
I don’t care if it sounds stupid.
I wish TV was real.
And I don’t even like chess.
Petey locked me in the bathroom