A School Story

Novel Excerpt

Photo by Nic Rosenau on Unsplash

Hi, everyone!

I’m going to try something a little different today. Instead of sharing a short story, I decided to send out an older project of mine into the world. I have three or four half-finished novels sitting around collecting dust, and I recently made up my mind that it’s time to pick up the pieces and see at least one of them through. My eye is on one of these stories in particular.

What you’ll see below is the prologue to A School Story, targeted for middle-grade readers (upper middle grade if we’re getting really specific). It’s currently sitting at thirty thousand words with the remainder of the book outlined. I’m more than halfway through, and my goal is to land somewhere around the 45-50k mark.

After a two or three-year hiatus — and after re-reading my draft and taking a few notes — the characters seem willing to continue taking me on their journey.

I would be honored if you could give this a read — and I’d be especially grateful if you could leave me a comment and/or provide some feedback.

And no worries if this isn’t your cup of tea — I completely understand!

Thanks for being here.

(Oh, and our next Fifties prompt is at the bottom of this post, if interested.)

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Prologue

Danny McDougall was a dimwit: as dumb as a doorknob.

That’s what all the kids said about him, at least. Not me, though.

They said these things because they never got to know him. In truth, he didn’t really talk all that much. He was one of those shy kids, the type who didn’t read aloud in class, the one who mouthed all the words in chorus without ever emitting any sound. (See, if it weren’t for Danny, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the word emit means, let alone use it in a sentence.) Bottom line: the kid’s the brightest person I know, and that’s a fact.

Danny’s “dumb” in his own way, if you want to put it like that. And I don’t mean school dumb, or book dumb – however you want to say it. Danny’s a walking encyclopedia. He can read The Hobbit for you from start to finish in one sitting if you ask him to. (Don’t – I once fell into that trap.) I bet you could leave him to it for an hour, run some errands around town, come back, and he’d be sitting in the same spot, reading away. I’d put money on it, in all honesty.

Even better, if you set him in front of a computer, he’d be able to take the whole thing apart, clean it, and put it back together for you in five minutes. He’d probably zip his way through it just like he does with his 400-meter run. Set a timer. I dare you.

Now, here’s the thing about Danny. If you stuck him in the center of a group of people, he’d shut up in a heartbeat. His walls, he calls them, would go up. He told me that his throat clamps, his brain gets all foggy, and it’s hard for him to think of words to say. Forget stringing sentences together or having conversations: the poor kid can’t think of words.

And words are Danny’s passion, his pastime. (Mine, like pre-Nintendo America, is baseball. But I’ll get to that later.)

So I guess that’s what I’m getting at: Danny’s people dumb. 

When I first met him, it was in seventh grade. That’s when I moved here. Apparently, by the look of things, he had been causing all sorts of trouble for years. Because of that, he had this little mousy lady always following him around the school building, nagging him. The kid couldn’t catch a break. “Danny, do this, Danny, do that,” she’d say in that squeaky voice of hers. “Remember to take your assignment out of your backpack. Remember to turn in your homework.”

Danny used to get really upset back then. One time he tore up his section of the classroom, throwing books and papers everywhere. I couldn’t tell you what it was over, but in his defense, I probably would’ve done the same thing if Ms. What’s-Her-Face always poked and prodded her way into my affairs. Affairs – there’s another word I wouldn’t have learned if it weren’t for Danny McDougall.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that the kid had a brain. When he worked one on one with Ms. Mouse, I heard him spit out answers faster than anyone else. Sometimes I heard her reply, “Show your work, Danny.” I don’t know why she always sat with him or why he needed her. In my opinion, he was the smartest kid in the room. There were plenty of other students who needed the extra help. Half the time I listened in on their secret conversations to make sure my answers were correct. More often than not, they weren’t. I got a C minus in math that year. Go figure.

When you stop to think about it, it’s funny. Danny helped me out before I got to know him and he didn’t even know it. If I hadn’t listened in on his talks with Ms. Mouse, I probably would’ve pulled a D in that class. And if that doesn’t stand for dumb, I don’t know what does.

But it doesn’t matter. I got pretty good at hiding my learning difficulties, and I always found a way to skate by.

I think the kids picked on Danny because he was different in a lot of ways: everything from the clothes he wore to the way he spoke. Most days he wore black tee shirts of classic rock bands that no one’s ever heard of, and he used to talk so fast that nobody could keep up with him.

One thing he couldn’t do was speak in front of the class. Even if he knew the right answer or had a good point to make, he wasn’t physically capable of doing it. That’s what it looked like to me, at least. Ms. Mouse would try to help him out with that. She would start a sentence for him, or begin to describe what he came up with, but it never ended the way it should have – the way you’d think it was supposed to go.

Sometimes Danny got so nervous when the spotlight was on him that he broke down in tears. One time he bolted out of the classroom and took off down the hallway. He made it out of the building and all the way to the road before they caught him. All of the kids laughed when it happened, but I kind of felt sorry for him. Our main teacher – Ms. V, everyone called her – yelled at us for a while after it happened. For good reason, I guess. On my way out the door that day, she pulled me aside and thanked me for respecting Danny’s “differences.”

From that day on, Ms. Mouse stopped wearing her black dress shoes. She started showing up to class with purple Nikes on, double-knotted, and ready to go. What’s even better is that I don’t think anyone else noticed them – except for Danny, of course. He was always in tune with things like that. Maybe that’s why we eventually got along so well.

When we reached Christmas, the teachers finally figured out that calling on Danny in front of the whole class was a bad idea. If they asked me, I would’ve told them that back in September. I mean, I get it: they probably wanted to see how much he could grow throughout the year. But once you have to start chasing kids down the highway, forget it. Just let the kid do his work and leave him alone.

Anyway, sorry about all that. I get sidetracked way too easily. (Ask my mom. She’d be happy to tell you about it.)

I guess my point in rambling was that it’s easy to laugh at people when they’re down, and it’s way tougher to try to pick them up. But I found that when you do, it actually feels pretty good.

You never know what you can learn from others, and you can never tell what’s coming around the bend unless you take a walk and look. Or listen really closely…that could probably work, too.

As you might have guessed, I wanted to tell you the story of how Danny McDougall and I became friends. It’s complicated, to say the least. I know you don’t have all day, but this one’s worth it.

Trust me. I’m pretty level-headed.

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Thank you so much for reading my working prologue for A School Story. I’d love to hear any comments and/or feedback you’re willing to offer!

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Fifties by the Fire

Next Friday, November 11, we’ll have our bi-weekly fire. They’ve been an absolute blast hosting, and I always look forward to seeing what everyone comes up with! Our first prompt is to use the word wilderness in a fifty-word story, poem, or work of CNF. Same guidelines as before!

I’ll shoot for the same start time, 7:00 AM EST. Does this work for all involved? Should we push it back a bit? Let me know if there is a better time for you, or if you have any suggestions about changing the schedule.

Take care and have a great weekend!