This Journal Belongs to Ratchet by Nancy J. Cavanaugh Page A

don’t know half this stuff. I don’t have a chance!
    Hunter buries his head in his hands. Ratchet stands awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other wondering if Hunter’s crying. The song “Daydream Believer” starts to play in the background. Hunter looks up and half smiles.
    Hunter : “Cheer up, Sleepy Jean...”
    Hunter and Ratchet both burst out laughing as they pretend to play air keyboard for the rest of the song. Finally, they fall on the floor of the garage laughing as a new song comes on the radio.
    Ratchet: I’ve got it! I know how you’re going to pass the test.
    Ratchet grabs a clipboard and a pencil. Hunter looks confused.
    Ratchet: What are your five favorite oldies songs?
    Hunter: What?
    Ratchet: Just tell me. What are they?
    Hunter: “Spirit in the Sky,” “Jailhouse Rock,” “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” “Born to Be Wild,” and “Proud Mary.”
    Ratchet: Now all we have to do is change the lyrics.
    Hunter: What in the world are you talking about?
    We’ll write new words to the old songs. Good-bye, love, heartbreak, and tears. Hello, spark plug, gasket, and flywheel. You’re going to sing your way to an A.”
    The scene fades as Ratchet grabs a clipboard from the workbench. Hunter looks over her shoulder as she begins to write.

WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
    Since I’m not doing many assignments anymore, if Dad asks to see my work, I can flash my language arts notebook at him, and when he sees all this writing, he’ll think I’m in the running to be the top homeschool student of the year. It’s amazing how someone so in touch with the environment can be so out of touch with reality.
    For the last week I’ve been writing (or I should say rewriting) songs. It’s Hunter’s only hope. If he remembers the songs, he’ll pass the test.
    Here’s one of my favorites:

    â€œPiston Rock”
    (To the tune of “Jailhouse Rock” by Elvis Presley)
    The piston threw a party in the engine block.
    The four-stroke cycle started and things began to rock.
    The valve opened up, and fuel and air came in.
    The flywheel got excited, and it began to spin.
    Let’s rock, everybody, let’s rock.
    Every part in the engine block
    Was dancing to the piston rock.

WRITING EXERCISE: Write a ballad.
    Writing Format —BALLAD: A poem that tells a story.
    Sitting at the kitchen table wondering
    If Hunter knows enough lyrics to pass the test,
    The phone rings and Dad answers it in the garage.
    He yells, “Ratchet, bring me my keys!
    I gotta go jump someone’s car.”
    I see the keys where they always are up on the windowsill next to his wallet,
    And it hits me —
    The key to the lockbox is in Dad’s wallet.
    It’s got to be.
    When I pick up the car keys, my hand is so close to the wallet.
    Going into Dad’s wallet would be crossing a line.
    A line I’ve never crossed.
    The phone rings again startling me, and Dad’s car keys clatter to the floor.
    â€œForget it!” Dad yells from the garage.
    â€œThey just got the car started.”
    I put the keys back.
    My hand touches the wallet, and I watch my hand pick it up.
    I watch like it’s someone else’s hands
    As they unfold the worn leather
    And slide open the little zipper that’s inside,
    And someone else’s index finger pokes into the tiny pocket,
    But my finger feels the metal key.
    The metal key that I know will open the lockbox.
    A thumb and index finger dig it out,
    And before I know it the wallet is back on the windowsill next to the car keys,
    And THE key is in my shorts’ pocket pressing into my thigh like it weighs a ton,
    And I sit back down at the kitchen table wondering when I’ll have the guts to use it.

WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
    It was dark outside by the time I went out to the garage to see what Dad wanted for supper, and he was lying on the