Kids on Fire: A Free Excerpt From Millicent Marie Is Not My Name

From the Award Winning Author of the Nate Rocks Books:

Twelve-year-old Millicent Marie does not like her name. After all, she was named for a woman who died more than fifty years ago and was not the most loveable member of the Harris family. Her friends call her Millie, but when she writes in her diary she refers to herself as Amanda – the name she always wished she had.

When Millie’s younger brother finds her diary on her computer, he decides to publish it as a blog for the entire world to see, including the boy Millie has a crush on. In the midst of all the mayhem, Millie/Amanda discovers she is suddenly Springside Elementary’s most sought after sixth-grade mystery gossip and advice columnist.

But not all is fun and games, as Millie quickly learns, once she realizes feelings are at stake. Nobody, least of all Millie, expects things to turn out as they do in this tale of friendship and respect.

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

September 9 – Sometimes our parents have a momentary lapse of judgment when it comes to their children. Take baby naming. I mean, have you heard what some of these celebrities are naming their kids? Organza? Really? You can’t blame them though. After all, they’d been planning for this little bundle for such a long time. Their minds are all cloudy with visions of pink toes, soft blankets, and fancy cradles with canopies made out of … yes … organza. So while you may think your name is awful, just remember, it could always be worse. Until next time – – Amanda

 

I close my laptop with a satisfied grin. There, I feel better now. My name is bad, but it is no Organza. I am named after my grandmother’s great-aunt. She died before I was even born. Apparently, she was the disgrace of the family. Nobody really liked her, and yet I was named after her. Yeah, I don’t get it either. From what my Aunt Sophia tells me, she was always getting into trouble. She was even shipped off to a special school for unruly girls when she was ten. It didn’t help though. Seems she ran away and snuck aboard a ship going over to Europe. The crewman found her hiding in the luggage cargo and promptly sent her home. After that, her path gets a little sketchy. I’ve been told so many stories, it’s hard to keep track. Uncle Stan insists she joined the circus, while Grandma says she ran off to become a gypsy. Aunt Sophia says she became an “artist” in New York City. She always puts air quotes around the word artist when she says it, so I’m guessing she means something different. Why do grown-ups always use air quotes when they mean something other than what they say? Anyway, I’m not sure how much of it all is true. All I know is we share the same name, and I have yet to figure out why. Her name was Millicent, but everyone called her Marie. My name is Millicent Marie, and I hate it.

Now Amanda, there’s a nice name. I have always wished my name were Amanda. I could be Mandy if I want to be playful or silly, but then go back to Amanda when I need to be sophisticated and regal-like.

“Amanda, sweetheart, could you pass the tea?”

“Why certainly, darling, here you go.”

“Millicent Marie, sweetheart” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

“Oh, Millicent Marie, sweetheart,” Mom says, after opening my door with a half knock. “Could you help me bring in the groceries?”

“Sure, Mom. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thanks, honey.” She closes my door once more.

See what I mean? Not the same. For starters, it’s way too long. I’ve tried to get my family to shorten it, but they insist on calling me the full Millicent Marie. At least my friends call me Millie, but that’s only slightly better.

“Millicent Marie! Are you coming?” Mom yells from downstairs.

“On my way!” I take the steps two at a time.

Carrying the grocery bags in from the garage is one of my least favorite jobs. My mother seems to have this irrational fear that we will some day run out of food and other necessities. So whenever anything goes on sale, she feels as if she has to buy the entire available stock – just in case. Our basement looks like some sort of doomsday shelter with its rows and rows of shelves overflowing with paper towels, bags of pretzels, and canned soup. At least I know I will never go hungry.

“Where’s Doogle?” I ask Mom. Why does it seem like my little brother always disappears when there are chores to do?

“Douglas is at a friend’s house.”

My mom hates it when I call my brother Doogle. I can’t help it. That has been his name since the first day my parents brought him home from the hospital. I was two and a half years old. In two and a half year old speak, Douglas equaled “Doogle.” Ten years later, it still seems to fit him. At least Douglas isn’t as bad as Millicent Marie.

The bag of groceries I lift feels like a load of bricks: ten supersized bottles of liquid soap. Well, at least we’ll all be clean.

Doogle and I used to get along great. We’d ride our bikes together, play video games against each other, and even make up pranks to pull on Mom and Dad. That was before he turned ten. Now he’s just a royal pest. He wouldn’t be so bad if he would just stay out of my stuff. I’m constantly catching him in my room, and when I ask him what he’s up to he always has an excuse. “Mom sent me up here to get blah blah blah.” Doubt it. I wish I had a lock on my door. After all, I am twelve. A girl needs her privacy you know.

“So Millicent Marie, what’s this I hear about you not trying out for the soccer team this year?” Mom asks.

“How did you know that?”

“I ran into Mrs. Tiller at the grocery store. She said she was talking to Mrs. Nelson who had heard it from Mr. Siegel who was talking with Coach Darden just a few days ago.”

“The gossip mill at its finest,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” Mom asks.

“Nothing. I was thinking of joining the Drama Club instead. They’re doing a musical mishmash of fairy tales and classics called Romeo and Cinderella.

“That’s  …  different. But I hate to break it you, your singing voice is not the best – and I’m not sure your acting is much better for that matter.”

Sigh. Gotta love Mom, always so supportive. “I want to be on the stage crew. You know, help with set design and other backstage stuff.”

“But soccer’s your thing. You’ve been playing since you were five years old.”

Soccer was my thing, but honestly, after the experience I had at the soccer clinic last week, I had no desire to hang out with any of those girls anymore. It all started when Haylee Tyler, the girl who has for some unknown reason hated me for years, started a rumor about me liking Dan Holt, which was so not true. Now, Jordan Cowell, he’s another story. Jordan is tall and cute and funny and in the Drama Club. Anyway, back to Haylee. So she told everyone on the soccer team that I liked Dan, who by the way, is the geekiest kid in the entire school. So what if I ate lunch with him the other day? To be honest, I felt bad for him. Everyone else is so mean to him all the time. It isn’t his fault he has bad skin and enjoys a good math problem. Besides, we’ve been friends since kindergarten. He’s a nice kid once you get past the dorkdom. Anyway, Natalie – she’s my best friend – wasn’t in school, so I decided to sit with Dan. What’s the big deal?

Well apparently Haylee and her sidekicks thought it was funny enough to write “geek lover” in lip-gloss all over my locker. I wound up missing half the clinic cleaning it up. This was not the first time, either. For whatever reason, Haylee Tyler takes great pleasure out of making my life miserable. Normally, I’m able to just brush it off, but this year Haylee announced she was joining the soccer team. My soccer team. Rumor has it that Coach Darden had been trying to get her to play for years. I hate to admit it, but she’s pretty good. Much better than me, and I’ve been playing forever. I’ve heard she’s even up for team captain. Still, it doesn’t mean she gets to treat me that way.

“Well, I was thinking I would try something new. Besides, Doogle gets to try different activities, why can’t I?”

“Douglas is still trying to find his talent,” Mom explains.

It’s true. Everything my brother tries turns into a complete disaster, starting with tumbling as a toddler. He wound up breaking his arm. Then there was his attempt at violin. Thank goodness that ended quickly – I thought for sure all the mirrors in the house were going to break. Doogle’s art attempt wasn’t terrible, except for the fact that he always left a trail of paint behind him. Good thing Mom had a value-sized can of carpet cleaner stashed away. For now, it seemed that Doogle’s talent involved video games and going through my stuff.

“You’re lucky that you found yours already. You don’t want to throw away your hard work, do you?” Mom asks.

“I’m not throwing anything away, Mom. I’m not even that great at soccer. I just want to try something new. I can always go back to soccer next year. It’s not like I’m going to forget how to kick a ball.”

“Okay, Millicent Marie, I suppose you’re right. It’s good to try different things.  Can you do me a favor and put Sparkles’ food in the basement? My back is really acting up today.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Millicent Marie,” Mom says, walking back into the house.

Sure, I’ll grab the fifty-pound bag of dog food that our tiny eight pound dog-wanna-be will never even eat because we already have ten other bags of it in the basement. Yup, five hundred and fifty pounds of dog food for one scrawny, little mutt named Sparkles. Doogle named him. Welcome to my family.

 

 

***

 

 

September 12 – Sixth grade so far is not turning out quite the way I had expected. In theory it is supposed to be awesome. You know … the big shots of the school – one step away from middle school, extra privileges, yada, yada, yada.

In reality, it’s been heavy on the homework, light on the perks. Just today, I had three different classes assign major projects all due in two weeks. You’d at least think the teachers would coordinate these things or something. I thought that was the whole point of splitting the sixth grade into teams? You know … so that all our teachers could work together. I guess working together to them means making sure they all give massive assignments on the same day. I just knew having a different teacher for every subject was going to turn into a disaster!

But that’s not all. Today, instead of having recess after lunch, I was recruited to help the kindergarteners pick out library books … twenty-three kids with runny noses who can’t read anyway. Fun times.

At least I’ve got the sixth-grade trip to look forward to. We’re going to the Aquarium as part of our unit on marine ecology and conservational refuge – whatever that means. All I know is we get to take a two-hour bus ride on one of those fancy buses. I can’t wait.

Oh and I also got to see you know who after school today, so I guess today wasn’t all bad. Until next time – – Amanda

 

“Who’s Amanda?”

“Doogle!” I slam my laptop shut. “None of your business – and why are you in my room? In case you didn’t notice, the door was closed. That means knock.”

“I did knock, but you didn’t answer, so I came in. I was worried. What if you were dead? You should be grateful you have a brother who cares so much about your well being.”

“What do you want, Doogle?”

“Mom wanted me to tell you that she had to go pick Dad up from work. His car wouldn’t start or something, so you’re supposed to keep an eye on me.”

“Can’t – I’m heading over to Natalie’s house to work on homework.”

“Too bad, Mom already left and you can’t leave me alone. I’m only ten, you know. I’m completely irresponsible. I might play with matches and hurt myself or get kidnapped by pirates.”

“If only,” I mumble. “Fine. I’ll tell Natalie to come here. But we have work to do, so you need to leave us alone. Got it?”

“No problem. I’ll be downstairs watching Zombie Gladiators and the Toxic Brigade.”

“You’re not allowed to, remember? Mom says it’s too violent.”

“Then I’ll hang out here with you and Natalie. So what homework will we be working on? Ooh, are you guys going to be talking about you know who?” Doogle winks at me and makes weird kissing sounds. Why couldn’t I have been an only child?

“Oh all right, go watch your show. But don’t blame me if you can’t sleep tonight.”

 

***

 

“So, did you talk to him after I left?” Natalie asks, spreading out the pages to our social studies project across my bedroom floor. Him would be Jordan Cowell – the reason I decided to join Drama Club this year.

Natalie’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember and even longer than that actually. Mom says we were in preschool together, although I have no memory of her. The only thing I remember from my preschool days is this boy Billy biting my arm. I remember I was crying, and they called Mom to come pick me up. Dad came instead. He was really mad. I remember him yelling at the director of the school. I learned a few new words that day.

I pick up one of the pages from our assignment. We’re doing a unit on European cities. Natalie and I chose Paris. Natalie’s been there twice with her family.  Every summer, her parents take her on some big trip. They say they want her to experience the world. They loved Paris so much; they went two summers in a row. The closest I’ve ever been to Paris was when Mom bought the seventy-two pack of croissants that were on sale at the bakery. You know, because why buy the normal twelve pack when you can get seventy-two?

“Sort of,” I answer.

“What do you mean sort of? I thought we had a plan.”

We did have a plan. Natalie and I had been painting scenery, as part of our Drama Club duties for the school play/musical, Romeo and Cinderella: A Match Made in Harmony. Our scenery was supposed to look like a castle, but it actually looked more like a log cabin. That’s beside the point. The point is, Natalie had to leave early for a dentist appointment, and I was supposed to ask Jordan if our castle was big enough, since he is Romeo and would be the one standing next to it. Then, I was supposed to casually start a conversation that would make him want to beg me to go with him to the sixth-grade dance, where he would, of course, fall madly in love with me forever and always.

“The plan didn’t go exactly as … well … planned.”

“So what did happen?” Natalie asks.

I sigh. “Mr. Lewis walked in just as I was about to walk over to Jordan. He took one look at our scenery and told me it was no good at all and that it looked like a gingerbread house, not a castle. He said it wasn’t even close.”

Natalie scrunches her face. I have to admit, it’s not the most attractive look for her. “What does he know?”

“He knows that he is the director of the Drama Club and that we did not make him the castle he asked for.”

“Let me guess: you then walked over to Jordan, who agreed that our castle was just perfect.”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, what exactly? Where is the part when you have a conversation with Jordan?”

“It’s just that I could feel my cheeks getting bright red after Mr. Lewis said all that, and I kind of started … crying.”

“You started what?” Natalie shrieks.

“I couldn’t help it. I was mortified. But then Jordan walked over and said he thought it was just fine.”

“Now we’re talking!” Natalie smiles.

“Except he wasn’t actually looking at me or the scenery. Faith had just walked on the stage to where we were standing and asked Jordan if he wanted to run through his lines again. Jordan walked over to her without so much as a goodbye or anything.”

Faith, aka Cinderella, is the one person standing in the way of this plan to get Jordan’s attention. She’s one of those girls that have perfect everything. You know, hair, skin, eyes, smile – the works – plus she can act and sing. It was sort of a no-brainer for Mr. Lewis to pick her to be Cinderella. From the looks Jordan was giving her today, I don’t think he’s too upset about the casting decision either.

“Oh, Millie,” Natalie sighs.

“What? I tried, I swear. What was I suppose to do? Mr. Lewis embarrassed me, and then Faith appeared and….”

“I still don’t get how Faith even got the part of Cinderella.”

“Um, probably because she can act and sing and is pretty?” I remind Natalie.

“What about you?”

I roll my eyes. I know Nat means well, but really? “What about me?” I ask. “I can’t sing or act, and I’m definitely not pretty.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend. You have to say that. Sort of the same way your parents have to say it also.”

“But you told me that when you told your mom you were joining Drama Club, the first thing she did was remind you that you can’t act or sing.”

“I did. I mean she did. But … oh why do you have to be so logical all the time! The point is, I’m happy being on the stage crew. And the sixth grade dance isn’t for another three months. I have plenty of time. Besides, I don’t have to have a date. A lot of kids go without dates. Look at you, you’ll definitely go without a date.”

“Gee thanks, I think,” Natalie says, frowning.

“I don’t mean it like that. I just mean you keep saying how there is no one in our sixth grade class you would go out with even if they paid you!”

“True, and to be honest, I’m having a little trouble understanding this whole Jordan thing, but since you’re convinced that you’ve met the one, I suppose it’s the least I can do to try to help you. Now listen. Even though there are three months until the dance, there is only a little over a month until the play. Once the play is over, you won’t be seeing Jordan after school every day. More importantly, he won’t be seeing you. That means we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Millicent Marie! We’re back!” Mom yells. I can hear her marching up the stairs, the sound of her stomps getting louder and louder. “I need you to take Sparkles out for a walk, and why is your brother all alone watching zombies? You know he’ll be up all night now,” she yells as she walks towards my room.

“Listen,” Natalie says, talking quickly, “if you want to get Jordan’s attention, now is the time. I think I have an idea that is guaranteed to work.”

“Not another plan,” I plead.

“Trust me, Millie. I won’t let you down.”

  Click here to buy the book: Karen Pokras Toz’s Millicent Marie Is Not My Name>>>