Mustaches for Maddie

Mustaches for Maddie

Mustaches for Maddie

Mustaches for Maddie


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A funny, inspiring story about when life's raindrops fall. Based on a true story.

Maddie has a quirky sense of humor and a fondness for sporting fake mustaches, the more outrageous-looking, the better. Her world is turned upside down when she's diagnosed with a brain tumor. Readers will take the journey with her as she battles her illness and encounters the usual obstacles of growing up by using her imagination to conquer her fears, her humor to stay optimistic, and compassion to stay connected to others in a meaningful way. Innocently and unknowingly, her example encourage those around her.

Maddie is a normal twelve-year-old girl. Well, except for the fake mustaches she carries in her pocket. She likes to make people laugh and slapping on a mustache, especially a fuzzy pink or neon green one, always gets a smile. Maddie hopes that the class queen, Cassie, will find her mustaches as funny as she does and want to play with her at recess. She's been self-conscious lately because her right arm only feels normal when it's curled against her chest and she's constantly tripping over her feet. But that's probably just part of growing up and not something weird, right?

When Maddie's arm continues to bother her, her parents take her to a doctor who gives them a shocking diagnosis: the cause of the abnormal behavior of her limbs is a brain tumor and she must have surgery to remove it. She's understandably afraid as he describes the procedure, but knows she must find a way to be brave and must face her fears—all of them—at the hospital, at home and at school.

She will need all of her courage not only to face her illness, but also to face Cassie at school. Both Cassie and Maddie are auditioning for the same role in the school play, but when Cassie accuses Maddie of lying about her tumor in order to get attention, Cassie's bossiness turns into bullying.

And as Maddie's surgery approaches, she begins to worry more and more about the outcome. What if something goes wrong? What if the doctors don't get all the tumor out of her brain? What will happen to her family? What will happen to her?

It will take all of Maddie's vibrant imagination, a lot of kindness-both given and received-and of course, the perfect mustache to overcome the tough stuff ahead of her.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781629724195
Publisher: Shadow Mountain Publishing
Publication date: 08/07/2018
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 256
Sales rank: 172,438
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.25(h) x (d)
Age Range: 8 - 11 Years

About the Author

Chad Morris and Shelly Brown are the proud parents of five children-four sons and one daughter, Maddie. When Maddie was nine years old, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Her positive outlook, imagination, and courage in the face of such a challenge was an inspiration to her friends and family—and provided the basis for this novel. Maddie collected mustaches during her illness and still finds humor in them today.

Chad grew up wanting to become a professional basketball player or a rock star. Neither of those plans quite panned out, so after high school, he left the Rocky Mountains to live in Brazil for a few years. When he returned home, he wrote and performed sketch comedy while going to college. He graduated from Brigham Young University and became a teacher and a writer.

Shelly has always loved children and books so when she started writing, it seemed natural to write books for children. In her spare time, she loves the theater and traveling. She is also one of the worst tap dancers you will ever meet, but she does it anyway. In addition to her five children, she has three chickens and sixty-four Pez dispensers.

Read an Excerpt

As far as twelve-year-old girls go, I hope I'm pretty funny, but that wasn't why my friends were laughing and taking pictures. It was because I was wearing a mustache. Yep. I'm a short, sandy-blonde girl with a mustache. And it was beautiful, bushy, and pink.

I also had a thick green mustache and a curly brown one, but they were still in my pocket. I collected mustaches for one major reason: they're hilarious. 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 woman with a mustache in a fancy dress singing opera. Think of your baby brother . . . with a mustache.

He-he-he. Hilarious.

Three of the girls liked my mustache, but I still wanted to win one more 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."

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.

We had only walked a few more feet before Cassie turned again, this time walking completely backwards, looking at the bunch of us following her. She could even walk backward sassy. "Okay," she said, with her big bright smile, "I need to talk with Sailor 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 some crazy story. 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 really liked Yasmin and was glad Cassie picked her. And not just because she took a picture of me with her phone. Yasmin and I walk most of the way home together. She lives a street over. She has 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, maybe.

"And . . ." Cassie said.

This was it.

Please. Please.

I really 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. For some reason my arm liked to rest in a funny position sometimes. Cassie had pointed it out twice now. 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 really 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 awkward 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.

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