One-Third Nerd

by Gennifer Choldenko Narrated by Maxwell Glick

Overview

A funny, fast-paced, and heartfelt story from the Newbery Honor-winning author of the Al Capone series.

Fifth grade is not for amateurs, according to Liam. Luckily, he knows that being more than one-third nerd is not cool. Liam lives in the Bay area near San Francisco with his mom and two younger sisters. Dakota is fascinated by science and has a big personality but struggles to make friends; Izzy, a child with Down syndrome, makes friends easily and notices things that go past everyone else. Dad lives across town, but he's over a lot. And then there's Cupcake, their lovable German shepherd, who guards their basement apartment.

Recently, Cupcake has a problem--she's peeing in the house. The kids need to make enough money to take her to the vet before their landlord upstairs finds out. And Mom and Dad have said if Cupcake doesn't stop, they will find her a new home. But the kids will never let Cupcake go. Can they save her?

Editorial Reviews

MARCH 2019 - AudioFile

Narrator Maxwell Glick plays up the gross humor in the latest middle-grade novel from the author of AL CAPONE DOES MY SHIRTS. Liam strives to find the perfect balance of attitude and actions to achieve total coolness in fifth grade, but his younger sisters seem to destroy his chances at every step. Glick packs the voices of the children with character: Liam’s awkwardness, Dakota’s know-it-all sass, and Izzy’s gentle sweetness. The mother’s Australian accent comes out slow and a bit strained, though that fits her constant exasperation at the antics of her children as they try to save their incontinent dog from eviction. Glick's upbeat tone finds the hope in a meandering plot that tackles myriad issues, including divorce, poverty, and having a sibling with Down syndrome. S.T.C. © AudioFile 2019, Portland, Maine

From the Publisher

"Reminiscent of Judy Blume's work, this endearing story will make many children laugh and allow some to see a part of themselves."—Kirkus Reviews, Starred

"It is Liam’s quiet thoughtfulness and relationship with his sisters, especially his interest in their lives—Izzy’s Down syndrome social group “the Forty-Sevens” and Dakota’s impulsive experiments—that let him shine just as bright as his two extroverted sisters."—Publishers Weekly, Starred

Praise for the Al Capone books:
 
"Choldenko's pacing is exquisite. . . . [A] great read." —Kirkus Reviews, Starred

"Rich characterization, tender drama, and sleuthworthy clues, this poignant mystery makes for a thoroughly satisfying conclusion to the landmark historical trilogy." —Booklist, Starred

"Choldenko continues to infuse the Alcatraz community with warmth and originality." —Publishers Weekly, Starred

"Choldenko's storytelling is compelling, portraying human decency as a force more powerful than heroism." —Newsday

MARCH 2019 - AudioFile

Narrator Maxwell Glick plays up the gross humor in the latest middle-grade novel from the author of AL CAPONE DOES MY SHIRTS. Liam strives to find the perfect balance of attitude and actions to achieve total coolness in fifth grade, but his younger sisters seem to destroy his chances at every step. Glick packs the voices of the children with character: Liam’s awkwardness, Dakota’s know-it-all sass, and Izzy’s gentle sweetness. The mother’s Australian accent comes out slow and a bit strained, though that fits her constant exasperation at the antics of her children as they try to save their incontinent dog from eviction. Glick's upbeat tone finds the hope in a meandering plot that tackles myriad issues, including divorce, poverty, and having a sibling with Down syndrome. S.T.C. © AudioFile 2019, Portland, Maine

Kirkus Reviews

★ 2018-09-30

Best known for her Tales from Alcatraz series, Choldenko writes for a slightly younger set in this celebration of family ingenuity.

It's hard enough that fifth-grader Liam's parents divorced and now he, his two younger sisters, and their single mom live in an apartment in need of repair. Their beloved dog, Cupcake, won't stop peeing on the rug, and the landlord has given them three weeks to get rid of the dog—or they're all out. Episodic chapters balance depictions of the harsh realities of divorce and financial changes with amusing trial-and-error escapades as the siblings hatch moneymaking schemes to fund expensive vet tests. Along the way, the personality of each sibling shines through. Faced with more responsibility than other kids his age, Liam just wants to play tennis as well as Roger Federer—or at least to keep up with Moses, a new student who seems to have it all. Third-grader and total nerd Dakota is biding her time until she can cure cancer. Second-grader and avid hugger Izzy has Down syndrome, and her inclusion is not only seamless, but integral to the plot. Even when getting on each other's nerves, they rally together when it matters most. Expressive black-line art depicts their lovable antics as well as members from their diverse community. Liam and his family are white; his best friend, Dodge, has brown skin and is likely of Latinx heritage, and Moses presents black, among other secondary characters of color.

Reminiscent of Judy Blume's work, this endearing story will make many children laugh and allow some to see a part of themselves. (Fiction. 8-12)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169094787
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	01/29/2019
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	8 - 11 Years

Read an Excerpt

Fifth grade is not for amateurs.
 
You have to watch yourself. Kids notice stuff.
 
What books you read. What sports you follow. What devices you own. And how nerdy you are.
 
A little nerdy is good; you can fix the game controller. But if you’re the kid who gets the teacher’s website up and running so everyone has more homework . . . that’s too nerdy.
 
And then there are the subtle things, like how you raise your hand. Should you raise it high and eager? Low and mouselike? Rotate your palm? Flap it all around? Or does your arm come up straight and slow like a log on a pulley?
 
Same with turning your homework in. Do you put it on the top of the pile? Or the bottom? Do you fold it like a paper airplane and fly it to your teacher’s desk? Deliver it by drone? Or do you send it up the classroom aisle in the mouth of a robotic device?
 
I could probably manage all this okay if it weren’t for my sisters.
 
Dakota, the third grader, is the worst.
 
I finally get up the courage to talk to the girl everyone thinks is cute and Dakota shouts across the playground, “Liam, I need toilet paper from the boys’ bathroom. There’s none in the girls’.”
 
Izzy, the second grader, is a hugger. The custodian, the crossing guard, my coach . . . Izzy hugs everyone.
 
Unfortunately, my sisters and I look alike: blond hair, blue eyes, and on the short side, so I can’t hide the fact that I’m their brother.
 
Then there’s our dog, Cupcake, a black and tan German shepherd with crooked front teeth and shiny black lips. Cupcake has little accidents in our apartment.
 
Did I mention we live under the landlord?
 
Not that poor pee control would be a good idea in any house, but it’s especially bad when you live close to your landlord.
 
Other problems? Cupcake howls when the microwave dings. And Izzy sings all the time.
 
Luckily, the landlord, Mr. Torpse, is hard of hearing. Once he takes his hearing aids out, Izzy can sing as much as she wants. How do we know they’re out? He turns his TV up so loud it’s like the voice of our principal booming from the PA at school.
 
We hear every sound Torpse makes. When he belches, shouts at the radio, or goes to the toilet. Plus, he spies on us. He says he only comes downstairs to water the plants, right outside his window, but since there’s nothing to water but dried-up weeds, I wonder.
 
So I don’t bring friends to our apartment. I don’t tell people where I live. I don’t even write my address on the forms at school.
 
The only person who knows the truth is my best friend, Dodge, and he won’t tell anyone.
 
Dodge comes over every day. His grandpa Crash watches us if my mom has to work late. Some days, Crash can’t get out of work either, and then I’m the one in charge for a little while.
 
I don’t see Crash’s car, so I’m guessing today will be one of those days.
 
Dodge, Dakota, and I walk from the bus stop. We climb down the steep stairs to our apartment, careful to avoid the rotted wood steps that sink when you step on them. I pull the blue key with the smiley-face sticker out from under my shirt, where it hangs on a string, and I unlock the door.
 
Inside, I open the patio slider to let Cupcake in. She is crazy excited to see me, jumping all around.
 
I follow Dodge to the tiny kitchen. Dodge finds the crackers and he’s about to wash them down with lemonade. He squints at the glass. “Did your mom buy a new brand?”
 
I catch a whiff and then snatch his glass out of his hand. It smells like pee!
 
“Sorry, um . . .” I run to the bathroom, dump it, and hurry back to pour him some actual lemonade in a new glass.
 
Who would put a glass of pee in the fridge?
 
Dakota!
 
Dakota has been working on the problem of why Cupcake has lost pee control.
 
She never had a problem until a few months ago. We housebroke her when she was little.
 
She learned so quickly. What a smart, cute puppy she was. She had the softest fur, floppy ears, and giant paws, and she made funny groaning sounds—like a dog’s version of a purr. The week after my parents split up, Mom got us Cupcake. The first night we had her, she chewed off the top of a Tupperware container and wolfed down the cupcakes inside. That’s how she got her name.
 
When we lived in our old house, there was a yard for Cupcake. But in January Mom and Dad sold our house and we rented this place. Now the “yard” is a tiny patio with one plant trying hard to grow out of a crack in the cement. When it produces a leaf, Cupcake pees on it and it flops over again.
 
My job is walking Cupcake. Mom won’t let Dakota or Izzy walk her because it isn’t safe in our neighborhood, but I never worry. Cupcake is the world’s best watchdog. Once, a bodybuilder in a camouflage vest walked too close to me and Cupcake growled. Now when that guy sees me, he runs to the other side of the street.
 
I never feel short when I walk Cupcake. Though I do wish we’d named her something more ferocious, like Dude or Brute.
 
“Look, um, I’m sorry about the lemonade,” I mumble to Dodge when we’re out on the street.
 
Dodge shrugs. That’s Dodge for you. He rolls with everything.

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