So many people have asked what my elementary chapter book,
Woody's World is like, that I have decided to post an excerpt during
Children's Book Week. If you like what you read, you can order the book at
Character Publishing. Now on sale! Also, if you order a classroom set of 20 or more, I will send you my 8-week, 98-page Study Guide that includes a variety of learning experiences for third and fourth grade readers. (A $13.95 value at
Teachers Pay Teachers) Woody's World recently won a 2013 Children's Literary Classics Seal of Approval.
Happy reading and please post a comment:
to post the first chapter here for your review during
Chapter One
The Princeton Trolley
“We
can’t make it,” I screamed. “Stop!”
“Trust
me, Woody,” Henry yelled over his shoulder. “We can beat the trolley.”
I
clutched the sides of our sled as we slid toward the tracks on a collision
course with the morning travelers. I had
to decide whether to roll off the speeding sled and risk breaking several bones
or to stay with Henry and risk getting killed.
“Hold
on!” Henry shouted.
I
dug my fingers into Henry’s shoulders and prayed that I had been good enough in
my twelve years to merit a hereafter in Heaven.
All the times I had teased my little sister exploded into awareness. All the times I had lied to my parents or
cheated on a test flooded my mind. I was
doomed!
I
leaned forward and hunched over Henry’s pea coat. My heart raced faster than the sled. Hundreds of electric sparks shot past my
head. Hot oil from the tracks assaulted
my nose as we slipped in front of the trolley.
I couldn’t tell whether the screaming came from me or from the
travelers.
We
coasted to a stop and scrambled out of the sled into a foot of drifted snow.
Even though it was twenty degrees out, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. Then I stared back at the trolley as it
clack-clack-clacked its way toward Princeton Junction.
“Toot, toot!” Henry made the trolley sound and pulled an
imaginary cord.
“Are
you crazy? You could have gotten us
killed! You could have ruined my sled!” I flapped my arms in the air trying to shake
off the lingering fear. Henry stood
motionless, gazing down the tracks.
“Are
you listening to me?” I shook his
shoulders.
Without
turning around, he said, “Woody, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever
done.”
“No,
that was the most stupid thing we’ve
ever done. How did you know we would
miss the trolley?”
“I
didn’t. I thought it was worth a
try. I knew it would slow down before it
went around the corner. It worked,
didn’t it? You’re alive. Your precious sled is in one piece.”
I
wrestled Henry into the drift. We rolled
around and around, laughing and punching each other until we both fell back,
exhausted.
“Don’t
you ever do that to me again, Henry.”
“Do
what? Have some fun and excitement?”
He
was impossible. Since we first met in
kindergarten, I’d never known him to be careful about anything. And that’s what I liked about him. My childhood would have been dull and boring
without him.
I
picked up the cord of my sled and started toward home. It was lunchtime. Mom said she’d have tuna sandwiches and
tomato soup for us.
“Henry,
don’t tell Mom about the trolley.”
Henry
looked at me for a moment, then ran his fingers through his thick, curly red
hair. “I may be foolish, but I’m not
crazy.”
Henry
wasn’t crazy, but somebody on the train was a snitch. When I got home, my father barred my way through
the door. His crossed arms and spread
stance told me I was in bigger trouble than the time I had snuck a mouse into
Miss Mallory’s handbag.
“Woodrow
Michael Bartram, are you out of your mind?” he boomed.
“What
do you mean?” I took a step backwards,
lengthening the distance between myself and Dad’s belt.
“Uncle
Mike saw you and Henry slide in front of the trolley today. He called as soon as he got in the station.”
I
hung my head. “It was either that or
break my neck jumping from the sled,” I mumbled. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Henry tiptoe
from the inquisition on the porch.
“Speak
up, boy. I’m sure you said you were
sorry that you almost caused your mother and me to make funeral plans for you.”
I
could tell that the lecture would go on for hours, but at least he didn’t take
off his belt. The welts on my bottom had
just disappeared from my last whoopin’.
Dad finished his sermon about responsibility with his usual comparison. “Respect is like a Hershey bar, boy. Every time
you make someone lose respect for you, part of the candy bar gets eaten away.”
I had heard this
analogy twice already. The R disappeared when I thought it would be
fun to drive the car up and down the driveway.
I wouldn’t have gotten caught if the tree hadn’t jumped out in front of
me. Then I lost the E when Henry and
I decided to climb up to the top of the Princeton water tower. We had taken
sandwiches and a canteen of water and had only taken one bite when Dad found
us. Now the S was gone.
“Better watch
yourself, boy,” Dad said.
“Yes, sir. I’ll
try to be more responsible.”
“Trying
isn’t good enough. You have to know how
to be responsible.”
The
lecture continued for another hour with extra chores for a week added to my
list and a quick lashing with his belt as we went inside the house. Obviously, Mom knew nothing about my
half-eaten RESPECT bar. She gave me a
hug and asked if I’d had fun sledding with Henry. That day I vowed I’d make my old man proud of
me … somehow… some day.
