Mustaches for Maddie Read online

  “Mustaches for Maddie is an incredible story full of love, humor, and courage. You will root for Maddie. You will smile with her and laugh with her. You will feel her boundless optimism. There’s never a dull moment with Maddie’s fun imagination, and her determination to face challenges will leave you feeling stronger.”

  —Tyler Whitesides, author of Janitors series

  “Mustaches for Maddie is full of heart, hope, and humor. Maddie is an unforgettable character who faces her challenges armed with humor and imagination and will no doubt find her way into your heart. I laughed and cried, cheered and worried, and wished I’d had a friend like Maddie when I was in sixth grade. This is a must-read book for anyone facing challenges of their own.”

  —Peggy Eddleman, author of Sky Jumpers series

  “Mustaches for Maddie is a thoroughly enjoyable testament to the power of laughter and compassion. You’ll giggle with Maddie, cheer for her, cry for her, and ultimately come away feeling uplifted. I’m in love with this book and with Maddie!”

  —J. Scott Savage, author of Mysteries of Cove series

  “Mustaches for Maddie is such a wonderful book about a wonderful person! You can’t help but don your own mustache as you cheer for Maddie in this emotional (and truly funny) story about a real hero taking on life’s hardest challenges.”

  —Frank Cole, author of The Afterlife Academy

  “I laughed. I cried. I hugged the book when I came to the end. The quirky humor combined with emotional depth made Mustaches for Maddie one of the most refreshing, original, and enjoyable books I’ve read in a long while.”

  —Liesl Shurtliff, New York Times bestselling author of Red: The True Story of Red Riding Hood

  Other Books

  By Chad Morris

  Cragbridge Hall, book 1:

  The Inventor’s Secret

  Cragbridge Hall, book 2:

  The Avatar Battle

  Cragbridge Hall, book 3:

  The Impossible Race

  By Shelly Brown

  Ghostsitter

  Interior mustache images: bekulnis/shutterstock.com.

  Photo on page 242 by Kristi Price.

  © 2017 Chad Morris and Shelly Brown Morris

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, ­Shadow ­Mountain®, at ­[email protected]. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the authors and do not necessarily represent the position of ­Shadow ­Mountain.

  Visit us at ShadowMountain.com

  This is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this book are products of the ­authors’ imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Morris, Chad, author. | Brown, Shelly, author.

  Title: Mustaches for Maddie / Chad Morris and Shelly Brown.

  Description: Salt Lake City, Utah : Shadow Mountain, [2017] | Summary: “Inspired by a true story. Maddie is a normal twelve-year-old, but when an MRI scan reveals she has a brain tumor, it will take all her imagination, courage, and support from her friends and family to meet this new challenge”—Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016050124 | ISBN 9781629723303 (hardback)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Brain—Tumors—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Emotions & Feelings. | JUVENILE FICTION / Health & Daily Living / Diseases, Illnesses & Injuries. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Friendship. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Death & Dying.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.M827248 Mu 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016050124

  Printed in the United States of America

  Lake Book Manufacturing, Inc., Melrose Park, IL

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Book design © Shadow Mountain

  Cover illustration © frimages/Getty Images

  Art Direction: Richard Erickson

  Design: Heather G. Ward

  To Maddie Marnae

  and all those who prayed

  and wore mustaches for her.

  And to the humble potato she loves.

  A Pink Mustache

  Poison-tipped Swords, Yelling Matches, and Juliet

  Nothing to Worry About

  Sneezing Laser Beams?

  Dragoporkisaur

  A Flying Avocado

  Immediately

  Wrong

  Escape Pod

  Two and a Half Golf Balls

  Ice Cream for Breakfast

  Did You Ask Him?

  Crossing the Sahara

  Asking

  Casting

  Mix-Up

  Meeting Romeo

  The List I Super-Ultra-Mega Hated

  Shakes

  Telling the Class

  Another Mission

  Murder, Death, and Talking to a Boy

  Swim Party

  Poison Dragon Death Claw

  Over the World

  The Basket and the Big Lie

  Made It All Up

  Dear Mom and Dad

  4:45 AM

  A Tower of Dinosaurs

  Mustaches

  A More Important Dream, New Toothbrushes, and Cancer

  Flushed

  Mind Powers

  Supernova

  The Surprise Ending

  The Puzzle

  Seeing the Future

  Again

  Red, Sparkly Box

  Epic

  Acknowledgments

  Authors’ Note

  Letter from Maddie

  Discussion Questions

  About the Authors

  Fact: mustaches are hilarious. Which is why I collect them. Everything is funnier with a mustache.

  At least that’s what I hoped. I had a plan, but it was risky.

  I overheard Cassie telling Sailor that they were going to talk about the school play at recess. I needed to be in on that conversation. After all, it might start off my amazing career as a comic. Or an actress. Or a comedic actress.

  Deep breath.

  They might think I was a complete weirdo. Or they might think I was hilarious and let me in on all their plans.

  I reached into my pocket and looked down at my choices. The green one? Brown?

  Nuh-uh.

  Pink? Yeah. Pink, for sure.

  Before I could change my mind, I peeled off the thin sheet of paper on the back and slapped the pink strip onto my upper lip.

  Sailor happened to glance over at me through her red curls as we walked down the school hallway toward the big doors. Maybe my movement caught her attention. She did a double take. This was it. I wiggled my eyebrows for effect, but on the inside I was holding my breath.

  Please laugh. Please laugh.

  Sailor’s eyes widened and then a giggle escaped. The giggle grew into a full-on laugh, which made her curly hair bounce. I broke out into a celebration dance that started out as a little shaky-shaky of happiness and ended in me doing the worm down the hall.

  Okay. I didn’t actually dance. Part of me wanted to, but the rest of me couldn’t quite do it in the hall with everyone watching. Maybe if it was just Sailor, but she wasn’t the one I was worried about.

  Plus, the worm is really hard.

  Hannah looked back too. She didn’t laugh enough to show her braces, but her cheeks bobbed. Then Sailor almost snorted. If she had, maybe I really would have danced.
>
  “Oh, hilarious,” Yasmin said, quickly reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. Was she going to take my picture? No one had ever taken a picture of me at school before. Well, not counting class pictures. I smiled and gave Yasmin a thumbs-up while she clicked the pic. I hoped it looked cute. But she probably didn’t have any other photos of a short, twelve-year-old girl with sandy-blonde hair wearing the most beautiful pink mustache a quarter could buy.

  I also had a thick green mustache and a curly brown one, but they were still in my pocket. Like I said, everything is funnier with a mustache. For example, think of a pig. They’re cute and funny with their piggy snouts and curly pink tails. Now imagine one with a mustache. Yep. Funnier. Or think of a woman in a fancy dress singing opera. Now imagine a mustached woman in a fancy dress singing opera. Think of your baby brother . . . with a mustache.

  I almost snorted just thinking about it. But laughing at my own jokes wasn’t the best idea, especially jokes I didn’t say out loud.

  Three of the girls liked my mustache, but I still wanted to win one more girl over. The hardest to impress.

  Cassie turned to find out why everyone was laughing and taking pictures. She had been talking to Sarah at the front of the group. Cassie is like the queen of the sixth grade. Well, the queen, the president, the fashionista, winner of the People’s Choice Award—pretty much everything important. It isn’t official or anything, but everyone knows it.

  She wore her blonde hair long and flowy, with a few fancy braids, the kind moms have to learn how to do by going to beauty school or by watching a lot of videos on the Internet. She also wore a glittery red sweater. Super cute, but we wouldn’t expect anything less.

  “Maddie! So funny,” Cassie said, showing her brilliantly white teeth. “Weird, but funny.”

  I wanted to pump my fist in the air. The queen thought I was funny. Maybe I could work my way up to becoming the jester of the sixth grade. That would be awesome. My risky risk was paying off. Hopefully, she would let me hang out with her today.

  I jogged to catch up to the other girls. All of them were taller than I was, and they seemed to walk faster, too. We opened the big black doors and walked out of Acord Elementary, glad to have at least a few minutes of freedom.

  Cassie turned, this time walking completely backwards, looking at the bunch of us following her. She could even walk sassy backwards. “Okay,” she said with her big, bright smile, “I need to talk with Sailor, Sarah, and Hannah.”

  She looked over her shoulder to make sure she was following the walking path around the school. Every recess Cassie picked who got to walk around with her. Sometimes she chose me and we talked about movies and makeup and funny jokes and boys. Well, I didn’t usually do much of the talking, but it was still fun.

  Some recesses I didn’t get picked. Cassie didn’t like it if I tried to hang out with a different group, so if I didn’t get picked, I usually chilled by the door and made up jokes to myself or invented crazy stories. Once I made up one about a cyclops who had to go on a treacherous journey to get the only contact lens big enough for his monster eye. It was pretty awesome. Well, as awesome as telling a story to yourself can be.

  “And Yasmin,” Cassie said.

  I liked Yasmin and was glad Cassie picked her. And not just because she took a picture of me with her phone. Yasmin and I walked most of the way home together every day. She lived a street over. She had really dark, straight hair and dark skin. She once told me to guess where she was from. I guessed India. I was so wrong. It was Ohio. But her grandparents were from Malaysia. That’s somewhere way across the ocean. I could point it out on a map, I think.

  “And . . .” Cassie said.

  This was it.

  Please. Please.

  I hoped my mustache sealed it. “Definitely Maddie.” Phew. I almost danced for real. Not only was I in, but I got a definitely. Behold the power of the mustache. “Even though she’s holding her arm weird again,” Cassie added.

  For the love of potatoes! I had forgotten about my arm. I stretched it out quick and hoped my face didn’t turn too red. For some reason my arm liked to rest in a funny position sometimes. Cassie had pointed it out three times over the last few days. My fist would tuck in close to my chest and my elbow would stick out behind it. It was probably because I was growing. Bodies do weird things when they grow. At least that’s what they told us in that super awkward presentation at school. You know, that one your parents have to sign the permission slip for you to go to and where they talk about deodorant and your body changing. The permission slip probably asked, “Is it okay for your son or daughter to sit through the most embarrassing presentation of their lives?” And all the parents signed it.

  Or maybe I held my arm weird because of the ninja training I was doing after school in the invisible dojo in my basement. That was probably it. I was almost a titanium belt. That’s like twenty levels above black, and it’s when you learn to break cars with your pinky finger and bust through freeways with your head. Yeah. That kind of training is intense.

  Okay, I made up the ninja stuff, but it sounded pretty cool. Anyway, I straightened my arm. At least Cassie had still picked me.

  But Cassie wasn’t looking at me anymore. She looked at Lexi, the last girl not picked. She had only been in our school since the end of November, and now it was January, but she seemed nice enough. She looked at us through her brown hair.

  “Sorry,” Cassie said. She smiled nice and big, but I don’t think she was smiling on the inside.

  I had seen that same smile lots of times. Like all the times when she told me she was sorry but I couldn’t walk with her.

  I really didn’t like that kind of smile. It was like it was painted on.

  I took another deep breath. A thought was pounding on my brain, but I wasn’t sure I should say it. I had risked a lot for this. “Wait,” I finally said. And then everyone looked at me.

  Gulp.

  I glanced at Lexi. She was nice and probably hated being alone for recess just as much as I did. “Let’s let Lexi hang out with us, too.”

  Silence.

  Nobody said stuff like that. Cassie was in charge. Kelsi said something like that to Cassie once last year and hasn’t been invited back since.

  “Seriously,” I said, finding some courage somewhere deep inside me. “I don’t think it’s fair to invite all of us and then leave her out. Plus, she’s new.”

  Something about that felt really good. Well, it would have if I had actually done it. I wanted to, but I didn’t do it. I only imagined it. Just like my celebration dance and my ninja ­training.

  Maybe I could suggest that . . . No. Cassie might kick me out of the group. Just because I made everyone laugh with my mustache didn’t mean they wouldn’t drop me. And then I wouldn’t be in on the plans about the play. And maybe, just maybe, my comic-actress career would be over before it even started.

  I felt bad for Lexi, but I didn’t say anything. I was just glad it wasn’t me.

  “Okay, girls,” Cassie said, leading us down the blacktop path around the school fields and away from Lexi. When we were younger, we played four square or tetherball or tag at recess, but not anymore. Cassie said that she was more mature and just wanted to talk.

  “We need to talk about the plays,” Cassie continued. Her eyes grew bigger, and she smiled wide. Everything was more exciting when Cassie talked about it. “I just know they’re going to be amazing this year.”

  We all agreed. Almost every sixth grader looked forward to the Shakespeare unit in school. Not because we were super fancy-pants kids, because we weren’t—well, Cassie wore some pretty fancy pants, but that’s not the same thing. We looked forward to the plays because we got to spend a month pretending and getting ready to put on a show.

  A real show too. Not a cheesy program. Each class did scenes from different plays. They were short, a couple of minutes
long, but they had sword fights and yelling matches and funny bits. And we did it during the day for the whole school and then at night for our parents. I watched it year after year, picking the different parts I would want.

  We’d already studied the plots of each play we could choose from, and Mrs. Baer talked about the characters we could pick. We were going to fill out our papers with our top three choices right after recess.

  Cassie surveyed all of us and then looked at Hannah. “I think Hannah should be that fairy queen,” she said. “So definitely put that down as your first choice.”

  Hannah nodded. “I would love that.” The fairy queen was in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That sounded like a pretty fantastic part, but I wasn’t sure Hannah remembered what happened in the play. The fairy queen has a spell put on her and falls in love with a guy with a donkey head. Yep. A donkey head. Hilarious, right? The only thing better would be a guy with a donkey head and a mustache.

  I choked down a laugh just thinking about it. But it would have been pretty funny if my he-he-he would have slipped out as a he-haw-he. Get it? Donkey head. He-haw-he. Yeah, Cassie probably wouldn’t have thought it was funny either. Good thing I kept that one to myself.

  “In fact,” Cassie said, “you might want to put the fairy queen down for all three choices. Then they’ll know you really want it.” Cassie turned to the rest of us. “No one else put the fairy queen down as one of your three choices, that way Hannah will definitely get it.” Everyone agreed, but Sailor nodded slower.

  I wanted to ask her if she wanted the part, but everyone was still listening to Cassie.

  “And Yasmin,” Cassie said. “What should you be?”

  “Hero,” Sarah suggested.

  Yep, there was a girl named Hero in one of the plays. But her name was seriously misleading; she wasn’t actually a hero. She didn’t sword fight a bad guy, or lead soldiers into war, or use magic to turn the villain’s noggin into a donkey’s head with a mustache. She just looked pretty and was nice and a guy fell in love with her. And when he was being a jerk, she pretended to be dead. That was it. Again, not really much of a hero.