Omega point, p.34
Willis Wilbur Wows the World, page 34
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: The Yearbook Signing Party!
Chapter 2: Shelley and Me! Never Mind . . . Just Me!
Chapter 3: Finding a Date with Destiny!
Chapter 4: My First Business Meeting!
Chapter 5: My First Idea!
Chapter 6: The Business Article!
Chapter 7: The Training Session!
Chapter 8: My New (Mandatory) Friend!
Chapter 9: Building a Client List!
Chapter 10: The Guinea Pig!
Chapter 11: Dog’s First Session!
Chapter 12: The Office!
Chapter 13: Margo’s Professional Playdate!
Chapter 14: Dog’s Second Session!
Chapter 15: The Launch Party!
Chapter 16: Talk to the Rudes!
Chapter 17: Margo’s Second Professional Playdate!
Chapter 18: The First-Grade Episode!
Chapter 19: The Scholarship Presentation!
Chapter 20: The Big News!
Chapter 21: My Professional Breakthrough!
Chapter 22: The Very Special Person Plate!
Bonus! The Willis Wilbur Interview
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To James, for your eternal enterprise and enthusiasm.
You're basically Willis Wilbur, forty years later.
CHAPTER 1
The Yearbook Signing Party!
Finishing third grade was a big deal. Though maybe finishing isn’t a strong enough word. Accomplishing? Conquering. That’s it. Third grade was the end of the middle. Third grade was finally being old enough to play four square, but never making it to the A square. Third grade was moving into bigger fractions and science experiments. There was nothing little about third grade.
But fourth grade? Fourth grade would be difficult division and long book reports. Important secrets. Maybe some of us would start wearing deodorant. We would be “upperclassmen.” Not only would I be older than many of the kids at Green Slope Elementary, but also taller. Wiser. Fourth grade was a responsibility I was thrilled to accept.
On the last day of third grade, I gave Mrs. Harding a “Teachers Are Tubular!” mug before heading into the cafeteria for the yearbook signing party. My best friend, Shelley Kalani, was in the office, talking to her mom. Mrs. Kalani was the school nurse, which was a busy job during the last days of school. Too many kids throwing books or tripping as they ran in circles screaming “Summer!”
In a few more days Shelley and I would be leaving for six whole weeks of summer band camp. So, when I wasn’t signing yearbooks, I was adding to my list of extra stuff I still needed to pack. Things you might forget, like a water bottle or an essential oil diffuser.
I hoped Shelley would hurry, so I could use her gel pen collection. In the meantime I had to sign everyone’s yearbooks with a regular blue pen, which is just as embarrassing as it sounds. My name just looks better in teal. On the plus side I’d worked on my cursive signature all night. My wrist was sore, but at least I’d come up with the perfect phrase to write in everyone’s book.
Here, look:
Hope you have a busy summer. Go make something of yourself!
Best,
Willis Wilbur
PS Call me sometime. We’ll catch up: 970-555-0139.
I bet when my name comes up months from now, kids would say, Willis Wilbur? The guy with the clever yearbook advice?
Finally, Shelley ran through the cafeteria doors. I should tell you—Shelley doesn’t just spontaneously run, not unless she’s on the softball field. She’s far more collected than that. Have you ever heard the saying “Calm as a clam”? That’s Shelley. (Except I say “calm as a shell,” since Shell is her nickname. We always laugh at that one.)
“Willis! Willis! You’re not going to believe it.” Shelley slid into a seat next to me. I held up my hand to show that I had to finish with this autograph, but once I was done, she had my full attention.
“You got four new gel pen colors?” I asked.
“What?” Her face fell. “Oh yeah. I forgot to get those.”
Ugh, my little blue pen just got sadder. Maybe I could trade Caleb Ito some gum for his red pen.
“Listen to what happened.” Shelley grabbed my arm. “My mom! Got a job!” She continued to talk really fast, but all I could catch were words like summer nurse and Hawaii.
“Hawaii?” I repeated. I knew that Shelley moved here from Hawaii in kindergarten. But in that moment I kind of forgot where Hawaii was. Not that close to Green Slope, Colorado, right? Where’s a map when you need it?
“Yes! Mom applied for a job. She’s gonna be a nurse at a fancy camp in Oahu. It’s close to my aunty’s house. There’s a place to stay!”
“So you get to visit your mom in Hawaii after we go to band camp?” Maybe they’d invite me to come along, too. Wow, Hawaii! Now I remembered—an archipelago of islands in the Pacific Ocean. Maybe we’d visit a national park or botanical garden and I would use a word like archipelago and the guide would be so impressed that he’d say, Hold on, I have to talk to my manager. They would come over and offer me a job as Kid Administrator of Hawaii, and I could help other kids traveling there find cool places to visit. Not the ocean, though—I hate swimming—but land stuff like easy hikes and historic sites! People forget there’s a lot of cool things on land.
Huh, I’m not sure what I would wear as an official Kid Administrator of Hawaii, but there’s still time to mood board—
“Willis!” Shelley waved her hand in my face. “Don’t start imagining yourself as president of the Pacific, okay?”
“I’m not.” Because I wasn’t. There’s no such thing as president of an ocean, anyway.
“Good. Because . . . because I’m going to Hawaii. Tomorrow, actually. With my mom. And brothers. We’re staying with my cousins. It’s been two years. My mom got a last minute deal on the flights. I’m gonna surf and eat musubi to the max. I’ll be there for—”
“Okay,” I interrupted. “I’ll miss you for a week, but—”
“The whole summer.” She dropped her gaze. “Willis. I . . . I can’t go with you to band camp.”
CHAPTER 2
Shelley and Me! Never Mind . . . Just Me!
Someday there would be a documentary of my life where they’d ask me, “Willis Wilbur, can you remember the one shining moment when your epic success truly started?” and I’d look at the camera . . . No, I’d look past the camera, like I was gazing into the actual past. My voice might even get a little croaky with all that remembering. And I’d say, I believe it was third grade. The yearbook signing party.
But that was the future, and in the future you can see all the moments, big and small, that made the future happen. Right then, all I could see was the color blue, which might’ve had something to do with that blue pen I had to use because Shelley forgot her gel pen set. And why did she forget? Because she was ditching me for Hawaii.
“The only reason . . .” My voice was sort of shouty, so I started again. “The only reason I was going to that camp was because you love the clarinet so much! I was going to learn the sousaphone because you said it didn’t matter if I knew how to play it already. ‘Obscure instruments will get you in.’ That’s what you told me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Shelley leaned her head onto my shoulder.
“How am I going to do summer without you?” I asked. My voice sounded small, like my heart. But my head felt big, like it was going to explode from a growing headache.
Just then, Margo Clawson stuck her yearbook under my nose. Anyone could see that Shelley and I were in a serious conversation and no longer signing autographs, but not Margo. That girl was all business.
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br /> “Can you please sign on page five, Willis? Shelley already signed my yearbook last night when our families had dinner together. Shells, I just heard the awesome news. Hawaii!”
The girls started chattering while I did my best to stay focused on the page. My pen pressed so hard on the paper that I’m pretty sure the imprint would show up on the next three pages. Margo’s dad and Shelley’s dad went to college together so they were automatic friends when Shelley moved here. They are not as close as Shelley and me, though. No one is as close as us. Everyone knows that.
And Margo had a lot of nerve asking for my signature. We weren’t friends—nowhere near it. Not since the First-Grade Episode, which I don’t feel like thinking about. Let’s just say, after that incident, it took a really big person to sign her yearbook.
Dear Margo,
I hope you leave town a lot this summer. Maybe I’ll see you in fourth grade but probably not.
Cordially,
Willis Wilbur
Even with the stress and surprise, my signature still looked perfect. I pushed the yearbook back to Margo and stood up to leave. Maybe Mrs. Kalani would let me rest in her office.
“Will I see you at the community pool this summer?” Margo asked me.
“No.”
“What about at the rec center?” she asked. “You can come over for lunch. I don’t know if you heard, but I almost made it on the Best Kids Cook show last year.”
“I heard. Everyone heard.” I turned to Shelley. “I have to go to the office.”
“I’ll go with you.” Shelley waved at Margo. “Aloha, Margo!”
We walked in silence, finally stopping by the front bulletin board (our school always has amazing front bulletin boards. This one was beach-themed: Sun and Sentences!). Shelley decided this was a good place to finish our life-changing discussion.
“What are ya thinking?” she asked.
“You know I can’t handle Margo.”
“She’s a person, not a bike. She doesn’t need handling.” Shelley swept her long black hair into a ponytail. “I want you to hang out this summer. Her mom has her doing all these activities for adults—like finance courses. She needs to learn kid stuff.”
“I’m not a coach!” I said. “How do I teach something like that?”
“She’s my friend. You’re my friend. I think you should be friends. For Real.”
“There’s no way. The First-Grade Episode was only two years ago and it’s still very raw.”
Shelley rolled her eyes. “Will, I know you don’t like talking about it. Maybe she didn’t mean it. Or maybe she’s sorry. Or maybe she even forgot—”
“Enough.” I held up my hand. “Margo is not the problem. I mean, she’s got a problem, but let’s drop it. Back to Hawaii.”
“Are you gonna be okay?” Shelley asked. Her eyes sparkled with hope.
The islands were a piece of Shelley’s soul. She loved it. Missed it. It’s not like I could be mad or even sad about this news. Not right now. If my friend was happy, then I needed to be happy for her happy.
The bell rang. Shouts and kids filled the hall. All the noise swirled around us, but Shelley and I were like the eye of a storm. We always were.
“Totally,” I said.
“Your mom can still get her money back on camp,” she said. “We can go next year instead, yeah?”
“I’m really excited for you.” I swallowed. “Really.”
The hallways emptied. We were back to being alone. Together. But only for now. Soon we would be alone across an ocean.
“Know what, Willis Wilbur? Something wild might happen this summer. Think about it—playing the sousaphone was never right, ya know? Now . . . now you can make a date with destiny!”
I nodded. “The world is my oyster. No, wait, the world is my shell.”
* * *
I thumbed through my yearbook as I rode the bus home alone. And I discovered something written in all those sloppy signatures . . .
Willis,
You and Shelley are so funny together—Aja
Willis,
I’m glad I got to know you more this year with Shelley
Bye! Jared
Will
maybe we can finally hang out next year dude
Peese, Adrian
Everyone saw me as Shelley and me. Not just . . . me me. Willis Wilbur. It’d been that way for at least four years, ever since Shelley and I sat together at the rug in kindergarten. We played a game where the teacher asked our favorite colors, and we were the only two left after the teacher said every color she could think of. Naturally, Shelley’s favorite color was glitter. Mine was burnt umber, but now I’m more into azure blue. Anyway—that was the beginning of a colorful friendship of adventure and imagination and trust. Shelley and Willis. Shellis. Or Willey. Depending on our mood.
So, there I was, at the end of third grade, with my best friend leaving for paradise while I dumped the sousaphone for some big, surprising, unknown adventure. All by myself.
I got out my school planner and crossed out six weeks of camp. Over the top of that I wrote in bold perfect cursive:
Make a date
with destiny
CHAPTER 3
Finding a Date with Destiny!
That night, I helped Shelley pack. Maybe helped was the wrong word. I drank grape juice and worked on a list in the kitchen while she packed everything. Then I double-checked that she had the right SPF sunscreen, plus some fun beach accessories like toe rings and a sun hat. Shelley was very random with her packing skills when we first met, so I used to pack for her. But Mrs. Kalani pointed out that if I do everything for Shelley, she wouldn’t learn on her own. I maybe didn’t understand why we had to “do things on our own” if we were always together. But now we wouldn’t be together so . . . anyway, she remembered the sunscreen.
“What’s this?” Shelley pointed to my list.
“I’ll feel a lot better if we have this started before you leave,” I said.
WILLIS & SHELLEY’S
SUMMER SURVIVAL PLAN
AKA KEEP IN TOUCH PLAN
Set up email accounts
Schedule video conferences
Set individual goals and help each other achieve them:
Willis: make a date with destiny
Shelley: stick to a schedule
Shelley nodded. “Email accounts? That seems . . . old.”
“Not old. Mature,” I said. “I’ve wanted a real account forever, but my mom never let me. This gives me a good excuse. Plus, it’s more professional.”
“Who cares about professional?” Shelley asked.
“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” I said.
“Why did you write this? ‘Stick to a schedule’?” Shelley asked.
This was pretty obvious. I’d always been the calendar keeper. I made sure we had activities planned, favorite snacks on hand, the correct attire . . . everything. How was she going to get anything done in Hawaii without me keeping her on task? She would probably swim all day or read her favorite book series over and over. Plus, who would remind her to reapply the sunscreen?
“I didn’t know what goal you wanted personally,” I said. “I just thought we could both focus on something separate while we’re apart. I was thinking . . . It’s weird that everyone always thinks of us together. All the time. Which we are, but now that we won’t be . . . maybe we will both have some ‘me time’? Then when we talk, we can discuss how we’re doing with our personal goals.”
“You mean if I remember to call,” Shelley said. “Since I’m so bad at scheduling.”
It might sound like she was mad, but she was smiling.
And the fact that she was smiling made me believe that maybe we were going to be okay. That this summer . . . apart . . . was going to work out after all.
