Lunch Money Page 12

  Greg was almost floating up out of his chair. He nudged Maura and whispered, “This is great!”

  But the principal wasn’t done.

  Mrs. Davenport went back to the microphone and paused to look into the faces of the committee members. “However, I believe we have to think carefully about this question of what gets sold to children at our schools. And especially what children sell to one another. What if a student decides next week that she wants to set up a stand to sell her homemade dolls out by the buses before and after school? Will you give her permission? Or what if a boy decides to bring his baseball-card collection to school so he can wheel and deal between classes? Try to imagine all the different things that children could dream up to sell to each other. Do we want our school to turn into a huge flea market? How can we give permission to this plan, and then not accept others? As a principal, it is up to me to make sure that my school continues to be a place for learning, not a place for buying and selling.”

  Greg looked around. A lot of people agreed with what Mrs. Davenport had just said.

  Mr. Z raised his hand. The chairperson nodded at him, and he stood up and said, “I agree with everything Mrs. Davenport is saying. School shouldn’t become a place that’s all about buying and selling. But it’s partly about buying and selling, and we can’t pretend it’s not. Schools are supposed to prepare kids for a happy, successful life. And one important goal of our school system is to turn out graduates who have something of value they can offer to the world—skills and talents and abilities that others will eventually pay them for. A math teacher gets paid money for teaching math, a principal gets paid money for running a school, and we all hope our students will one day be paid for their work too. So there’s certainly nothing wrong with having kids learn about money and economics and profits and percentages. In fact, it would be wrong if we didn’t teach them these things. Which is why we teach units on the economy and consumer education.

  “What Greg and Maura have to offer should help other kids enjoy reading, just like the book clubs do. And their comics even go a step further, because these minicomics will encourage student writing and student artwork. The regular book club companies provide a wholesome service that supports education, and that’s why they’re allowed to sell books at school and make a profit. And everyone agrees that it’s right to get paid for work that’s done well. These kids are asking for the same privilege, plus they’ve volunteered to donate a percentage of all their profits to the school library—which no book club has offered to do.”

  Mrs. Davenport shook her head. “I still have trouble with the idea of actually selling things right at school.”

  “But that’s already happening,” Mr. Z said. He turned to Greg and Maura. “How many different companies did we find that are advertising or selling things directly to kids at Ashworth School?”

  Greg said, “A lot.”

  Maura nodded and started counting them off on her fingers. “There’s the Domino’s Pizza Day banner in the cafeteria, the Veryfine juice machine, the Frito-Lay snack machine, the POWERade machine by the gym door, the Coca-Cola scoreboard on the playing field, the Nike book covers on all our social studies books, the Mars candy fund-raiser posters in the gym, the Wilson and Spalding and Adidas names on all the sports equipment, and the big IBM letters on every clock in every room in the school.”

  Greg said, “And there are tons of ads in all the magazines for kids in the school library, plus all the sports biography books that are like ads for pro sports teams or NASCAR. And sometimes there are morning PA announcements about after-school bake sales or Saturday car washes at the high school. And there’s the blue sweatshirt with the Champion logo that Mr. Kellet wears during every gym class. And the Apple logo on almost every computer. And then there’s the stuff sold at the school store. Plus the book clubs.”

  Mr. Z turned to the committee members and said, “I don’t like the way children are treated as sales targets, and I know none of you do either. But we have to face it: Selling to children is big business, and we have to help kids understand this so they can make good decisions. I did some research, and do you know how much of their own money American kids in grades kindergarten through six spend every year? Thirteen billion dollars—that’s billion, with a b—thirteen billion dollars of their own money. And that number grows every year.”

  Greg was stunned. Thirteen billion dollars!

  A week ago Greg would have enjoyed that number. He’d have let that number slowly absorb his entire mind. He would have let himself dream of grabbing huge hunks of that thirteen billion dollars for himself. But tonight the number struck him differently.

  Greg suddenly saw that his giant plan for Chunky Comics was no more than a tiny speck, an almost invisible atom on the edge of a huge, whirling universe of money and products, of buying and selling.

  Kids spent thirteen billion dollars last year. And part of that was spent by me. Greg kept careful records. He knew that during the past twelve months he had spent over four hundred dollars of his own money—the biggest chunk for a new iPod. Because I’m a sales target, me and every other kid in America—Mr. Z just said so.

  And sitting there at the front of the meeting room, Greg realized that he’d been thinking of the kids at school that same way, as targets. He was the hunter, and they were the prey. And what did he want from the School Committee tonight? A hunting license. He wanted permission to aim his comic books at every kid in the school.

  And why? Was it to help kids become better readers? Or to help them get interested in writing and drawing? Not really. Greedy Greg wanted to sell Chunky Comics so he could make money.

  Mr. Z was still talking.

  “I’m glad that Greg and Maura got to sit through this whole meeting tonight. I’m proud to have them see how much care goes into every detail of what happens in our schools. And I want them to see that this is not ‘us against Mrs. Davenport,’ because that’s not the way it works. We all want the same thing—what’s best for the school, and what’s best for every student.”

  Greg looked over at Mrs. Davenport, and she was nodding. And Greg felt himself nodding too.

  Mr. Z said, “This idea that Greg and Maura have, it’s not some marketing plan that was drawn up in Los Angeles or Minneapolis or New York. It’s homegrown. So I say it deserves our support. And whatever the School Committee decides will be all right with me and with Greg and with Maura—but only if it’s all right with Mrs. Davenport, too. Because we’re all in this together.”

  Mr. Z sat down, and Mrs. Davenport said, “I want to thank Mr. Zenotopoulous for that offer to work together on this, and I accept it. And we’ll wait to hear the decision of the committee.”

  As Mrs. Davenport stood and walked toward her seat, Maura got up and headed for the back of the room. Greg started to follow, but then he stopped. He turned and faced the committee again.

  “Could I say something else?” he asked.

  The chairperson nodded at him, and Greg went to the microphone. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. But he was sure of one thing, so that’s what he said first. He gulped and said, “If it’s okay, I think I want to sort of change my idea.” Greg felt the whole room get very quiet.

  The woman squinted and looked over the top of her glasses at him. “You mean the comic-book club? Change it? Now?”

  Greg gulped again and said, “Yeah . . . I mean, yes. Because what Mrs. Davenport said is right. It’s not fair if Maura and I get special permission to sell our comic books, but then other kids can’t sell things they try to make.”

  A man at the front table said, “So what are you proposing?”

  Greg said, “Well . . . I think . . . really . . . there ought to be a way . . . like, if we . . .”

  Greg heard himself sputtering and stalling, saying nothing. And he knew why. He didn’t really have a new idea. But he felt like something needed to change. And he knew it was now or never.

  From behind him a voice said, “I think Greg’
s trying to say that the school store could be the answer.” Greg turned around, and it was Mr. Z.

  Greg nodded slowly, and then whipped back to face the School Committee. Excited now, he said, “Yeah. That’s right. Exactly. It’s the school store.” And making it up as he went along, Greg said, “Because we already have it. A store. At school. In the cafeteria. Except . . . instead of just school supplies, we can sell our comics there. And . . . and other kids could sell things there too. Because lots of kids have good ideas. And the store can be like a business. A real business. Except . . . any kids who sell stuff at the store have to give . . . fifty percent. Fifty percent of all their profits has to go to something that helps the whole school. Because that way, it’ll be half for profit, and half for learning. And . . . and that’s my new idea. If it’s okay.”

  Then Greg stood up, turned around, and headed for his seat. As he walked past the principal, he glanced at her face. She was smiling, and he smiled back. And she said, “Just a moment, Greg.” She bent over, picked up a small cardboard box, and held it out to him—the old comic books. “I won’t be needing these anymore.”

  Greg blushed, and started to say something back, but the chairperson was calling for the next speaker. Greg gave the principal an awkward smile, took the box, and hurried back to his chair.

  As Mrs. Davenport sat down she couldn’t help thinking, He’s really a remarkable boy—I’m proud of him.

  And as Greg sat down with the box of comics on his lap, he couldn’t help thinking, Thirteen billion dollars!

  Chapter 24

  SUCCESS

  The School Committee meeting lasted another fifteen minutes. When it was over, the Kentons and the Shaws and Mr. Z walked out into the parking lot together, and Mrs. Shaw said, “How about we all go over to the Route Twenty-five Diner and celebrate with some ice cream—our treat.”

  Mr. Z stopped beside his car and took out his keys. “Thanks, but I have to get home.”

  “But the rest of us can still go, right?” said Greg.

  His dad said, “Well, if Mr. Zenotopoulous can’t come, then I think we’d better not.” He reached out to shake Mr. Z’s hand. “You did a great job in there.”

  Mr. Z smiled and shook his head, pushing the praise aside. Nodding at Greg and Maura, he said, “The congratulations belong to these two. And I really like what Greg said about the school store idea. I think the committee did too, but there’s still Mrs. Davenport.”

  Maura said, “But you heard her—she likes comics now.” Pointing at the box in Greg’s hands, she said, “And taking those to her house? That was genius!”

  Greg smiled and said, “Yeah, but—”

  Maura cut him off. “No, really, that was a great idea, because if she hadn’t read them, and if she’d just stood up and screamed and shouted about how awful comic books are—”

  Greg shook his head and said, “Sure, but—”

  “I’m serious,” Maura said. “That was the best idea—except for when you said you’d give half our profits to the school. So I say we should still go and get ice cream, and Greg gets to pick anything he wants, even a double banana split, because he—”

  Almost shouting, Greg said, “Would you just be quiet a second?”

  Mr. Z popped open the back of his car. “Greg’s trying to tell you that those comics aren’t his.” He took the box from Greg and put it in his trunk. “I drove over to my mom’s home after school yesterday, and I hunted around up in the attic until I found my old comics—two big boxes. Then on my way home I decided to make a special delivery. And I was pretty sure Mrs. Davenport would like my taste in comic books—because there’s no b-l-o-o-d.” He slammed the trunk lid and then smiled at the group. “But no telling, okay? Mrs. Davenport thinks I’m crazy enough already.”

  ***

  Three days later when the School Committee vote was announced, no one was surprised that permission had been granted to Greg Kenton and Maura Shaw to begin selling Chunky Comics at a newly reorganized Ashworth school store—provided that Mrs. Davenport agreed to all the details.

  And after some spirited negotiations in the principal’s office, no one was surprised that a workable business plan for the store was developed, and a trial period of two months was agreed to. Mrs. Davenport even agreed to be a member of the product approval committee.

  Mr. Z helped set up an accounting system for the school store, and Greg and Maura opened a joint savings account at the bank under the name Chunky Comics Group.

  Greg and Maura made good on their promise to hold after-school workshops about how to make minicomics and mini–picture books. And soon they had to take on the additional challenge of being editors—choosing which stories and art to accept, and which to reject. Plus they spent time after school helping to get the new school store set up in a semipermanent location in one corner of the cafeteria.

  It wasn’t always fun, and there was a lot of hard work, but soon the milestones began to drop into place:

  •By mid-October the restructured school store had a grand opening. To start, there was a literature section, an arts-and-crafts section, a used-CD section, a collectibles section, plus the regular school supplies. Chunky Comics were sold from a rack built by Greg and painted by Maura.

  •Twelve new product ideas for the school store were presented to the product approval committee during the first month of operation. Five were accepted.

  •By mid-November, the three elementary schools in town, the junior high, and the high school had all restructured their school stores or started new ones based on the business model pioneered at Ashworth Intermediate School. The Chunky Comics rack was a popular feature at each of the new locations.

  •The November sales of Chunky Comics were huge: 436 copies of Return of the Hunter, and 424 copies of The Lost Unicorn. The production crew had to work afternoons, nights, and one full weekend to keep up with the demand.

  •Near the end of November the Chunky Comics Group used some of its early profits to purchase an electric stapler and a good paper cutter to improve the speed and quality of their binding and trimming operations.

  •In December the Chunky Comics rack offered three new minicomics, plus the original two. Two of the new titles were by Greg and Maura: Creon: The Strong Survived and The Princess’s Nightmare. The third was a science-fiction comic written by Ted Kendall, drawn by Maura, and inked by Greg. It was called The Trumpets of Mars.

  •In December, Maura began working on a new volume of minicomics about a girl detective computer genius named Haxy Spectrum. The first two issues were a huge hit, and those led to four more Haxy titles through the school year.

  •Over the Christmas holidays Greg and Maura got some help from another sixth-grade friend and launched a simple Web site ChunkyComics.com—to tell the story of the business and also to collect e-mail addresses for an Internet version of the Chunky Comics Club.

  •In January, Chunky Comics also issued a nonfiction minicomic called Pythagoras and the Golden Section, written by Anthony Zenotopoulous, drawn by Maura Shaw, and inked by Greg Kenton. It was not one of the big sellers.

  •By February, ChunkyComics.com was attracting more than 1,100 visitors each week.

  •By April the Chunky Comics Club monthly e-mail newsletter was going out to more than 2,300 subscribers, and the first Internet orders were shipped. Sales of Chunky Comics at the school stores in town remained strong.

  •By May comic book collectors on eBay were offering five to seven dollars for a copy of Chunky Comics, volume 1, number 1, in fine condition.

  •In June, Mr. Z received approval to teach during the summer at the local community college. He had developed a course called “Turning Business Ideas into Realities.”

  •Through all the ups and downs of an incredibly busy school year, Maura and Greg both finished with grade averages between B plus and A minus—a tie, or almost a tie.

  •Greg and Maura’s partnership survived five major artistic disagreements, four heated arguments about mone
y, two binding arbitration sessions with Mr. Z, and one awkward attempt at holding hands.

  •In late June, Greg and his dad got a call from a woman who worked at one of the big book clubs. She wanted to know if Greg was interested in exploring the possibility of a national distribution deal for Chunky Comics. After consulting with the other key members of the group, Greg decided he was.

  •Up on the stage during the awards assembly on the last day of school, Greg, Maura, and Mr. Z handed Mrs. Davenport a check for $1,421, a donation to the Ashworth Intermediate School library on behalf of all the vendors who had sold their products through the school store.

  •Nine hundred twenty-three dollars and thirty-eight cents of that total donation came directly from the Chunky Comics Group, and Greg Kenton could not believe how good it made him feel to give that money away.

  Andrew Clements is the author of the enormously popular Frindle, and more than ten million copies of his books have been sold. He has been nominated for a multitude of state awards and has won two Christopher Awards and an Edgar Award. His popular works include About Average, Troublemaker, Extra Credit, Lost and Found, No Talking, Room One, Lunch Money, and the Benjamin Pratt & the Keepers of the School series, to name a few. Andrew Clements lives with his wife in Maine, and they have four grown children. Visit him at AndrewClements.com.

  Atheneum Books for Young Readers

  SIMON & SCHUSTER | NEW YORK

  Meet the author, watch videos, and get extras at

  KIDS.SimonandSchuster.com

  authors.simonandschuster.com/Andrew-Clements

  Also by Andrew Clements

  A Million Dots

  About Average