Doing Time Online - Softcover

Siebold, Jan

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0807516651 ISBN 13: 9780807516652

Verlag: ALBERT WHITMAN & CO, 2004

Inhaltsangabe

2004-2005 Maude Hart Lovelace Book Award Master List
2004-2005 Charlie May Simon Children's Book Award Reading List
2004 Maryland Children's Book Award Master List
2003-2004 Sunshine State Young Reader's Award Master List
2004-2005 Volunteer State Book Award Master List
2004-2005 Iowa Children's Choice Award Master List
2005 Sequoyah Children's Book Award Master List
2005 Rebecca Caudill Young Readers' Book Award Master List
2003-2004 Great Stone Face Award Master List
2004-2005 Pennsylvania Young Reader's Choice Award Master List
2005 Sasquatch Reading Award Master List

Twelve-year-old Mitchell got involved with the wrong kid this past summer, and the prank they played led to an elderly woman's injury. Now he finds himself at the police station—his "sentence" is to chat online with a nursing home resident twice a week for the next month. Mitch isn't thrilled; what could he and some "old" person possibly talk about? But Mitch’s new online friend has a personality all her own. Her name is Wootie Hayes, and she has plenty to talk about: how she got her name, how much she misses her own home, and how she detests bingo. But she also wants to know about Mitch’s situation. Without expecting it, they help each other face the truth and begin a new friendship in the process.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jan Siebold's career as an author began when she attended a writing seminar at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC. She has since written several books for children, including Doing Time Online and My Nights at the Improv. She lives in New York.

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Doing Time Online

By Jan Siebold

Albert Whitman & Company

Copyright © 2002 Jan Siebold
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-8075-1665-2

CHAPTER 1

Tuesday, September 14

< < 3:40 P. M. > >

Officer MacDougal led me down the hallway of the Franklin Police Department and into a small room. He motioned to a chair which was placed in front of a computer terminal.

"Have a seat, Mitchell," he said. "The computer is all ready to go. Your ID code is 'Mitch.' The nursing home ID is 'MapleG.' Just type your message, and the folks at Maple Grove will know you're starting. I'll be back at four o'clock to let you out. No rudeness or foul language, understand?"

I nodded. A practical joke backfires, and suddenly you're treated like Jack the Ripper. I didn't mean it, I wanted to shout. If I could take back that night, I'd do it in a second. It wasn't even my fault, but I took the fall. Now I was stuck coming here — the police station — two afternoons a week.

Officer MacDougal closed the door behind him. I stared at the blinking cursor on the screen. Whose idea was this, anyway?

Probably some social worker type of person had come up with this program called "O.L.D. Friend" for juvenile offenders. The O.L.D. stands for "Online Discussion." I suppose you could also take it to mean "old" as in "longtime," or "old" as in "ancient." I wasn't interested in either one. Basically, I had to show up at the police station every Tuesday and Thursday for a month to have a computer "chat" with a resident of the Maple Grove Nursing Home somewhere across the state.

I guess the logic behind the whole plan was that old people have a lot of wisdom to share. It's not that I have anything against senior citizens. In fact, I hope to be one myself someday. I just wasn't sure that I could "chat" with one for an entire half-hour. I didn't have anything to say to this person, and I certainly didn't need to sit and read some lecture about the good old days when kids had to walk eight miles to school in all kinds of weather.

I looked around the tiny room. The walls were painted schoolroom green. A poster on the wall advertised a car wash to benefit the local Students Against Drunk Drivers chapter.

The computer sat on a wooden table. I could see a sticky ring about the size of a soda can on the tabletop. No one had offered me anything to drink. Near the ring, someone had carved the word "Rats" in jagged letters.

Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was almost three-forty-five. I had taken keyboarding in school the year before, and had gotten much better at it. I took a deep breath and began to type.

Mitch: Hi. My name is Mitchell Riley. What's your name?

A few seconds went by, and then words began to slowly appear below mine on the screen.

MapleG: I'm Wootie Hayes. You're late.

Mitch: Sorry. It took longer than I thought to walk here from school.

MapleG: Then I guess you'll have to walk faster next time.

It was hard to tell whether or not this person was kidding. I typed:

Mitch: I guess so.

A minute or so went by. There was no answer, so I wrote:

Mitch: Are you a man or a woman? I've never heard the name Wootie.

MapleG: I used to be a woman. Now I'm a shriveled-up old lady. When I was born, my sister was only three years old. Apparently she couldn't pronounce my real name, Ruthie. It kept coming out "Wootie." My parents started calling me that and it stuck. Meanwhile, my sister had a beautiful name — Rose. It never seemed fair to me that she stuck me with such a horrible name and went through life with such a pretty one herself.

Mitch: I bet people don't have any trouble remembering the name Wootie.

MapleG: That's for sure. My husband Lou always said that I'm one of a kind, just like my name. I've actually come to like it. Do you have any brothers or sisters?

Mitch: No. It's just me and my dad. My mom died when I was a little kid.

MapleG: How old are you?

Mitch: Twelve. How about you?

MapleG: I'm NOT twelve.

I paused, and typed:

Mitch: How do you like it at Maple Grove?

MapleG: Ha! That's a good one. I'll bet there's not a single maple tree, much less a whole grove of them, within a mile of this miserable place.

Mitch: What's wrong with it?

MapleG: There's no privacy. The food is bland. The head nurse on my floor is a pain. Her name is Mrs. Nagle, but I call her Nurse Nag-a-lot. Mostly, I'm bored out of my skull. I'm not used to just sitting around. My roommate is nice enough, but she's the BINGO queen of the world. She's always trying to drag me to the rec room for the daily game. Last week she won a prize. Know what it was? Some of those little tissues that you carry in your purse. You would have thought it was a million dollars, the way she carried on.

I could tell that old Wootie was on a roll now.

Mitch: How long have you been there?

MapleG: Oh, about three months, I guess. Too long, that's for sure.

Mitch: Where did you live before?

MapleG: I STILL live in Colesville. My house is there. Lou laid the bricks for it himself. That's what he did for a living. We moved in right after we got married. I did the bookkeeping for him. Lou worked right up until the day he died. It doesn't seem possible that he's been gone for almost three years. I can't wait to leave this place and go home. There's a beautiful REAL maple tree there right outside my kitchen window.

Mitch: Why are you at Maple Grove?

MapleG: Back in June, I fell and broke my hip. It was a dumb accident. I was hanging out the wash and tripped over the clothes basket. I lay there for two hours until the paper boy came along and rescued me. I ended up having surgery on my hip, but it's still giving me trouble. The physical therapy doesn't seem to be helping. Why are YOU there?

Mitch: You mean at the police station?

MapleG: Of course that's what I mean.

I had to stop for a moment.

Mitch: Mine was an accident, too. It was supposed to be a joke, but it backfired and someone got hurt.

Just then, Officer MacDougal opened the door and stuck his head into the room.

"Five more minutes, Mitchell," he said.

I nodded and turned back to the keyboard. I couldn't believe that it was already almost four o'clock. I guess typing a conversation takes a lot longer than talking face to face. I wrote:

Mitch: I have to go now.

MapleG: That's okay. Wallace is here anyway.

Mitch: Who's Wallace?

MapleG: He's the nice young man who delivers me from place to place around here. I guess you could call him my wheelchair chauffeur. Will you be back Thursday?

Mitch: Yes.

MapleG: Be on time.

Mitch: I'll try.

I stared at the screen, expecting a final message, but none came. Officer MacDougal led me back out, and we left.

< < 4:05 P. M. > >

The deal was that Officer MacDougal would give me a ride home. He dropped me off at the corner of my street.

As I walked the rest of the way, I thought about Wootie Hayes. Her messages had surprised me. I guess I had expected them to be sweet and sugary and packed with grandmotherly advice. Old Wootie was definitely a straight shooter.

As I started to walk up the driveway, a voice from behind interrupted my thoughts.

"Hey. It's Really Riley."

I didn't have to turn around to know whose voice it was....

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: ALBERT WHITMAN & CO
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2004
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0807516651
• ISBN 13: 9780807516652
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 88
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar