Title: Elliot K. Carnucci is
a Big Fat Loser
A Book About Bullying
ISBN: 978-1-62420-291-9
Author: Catherine DePino
Genre: Middle Grade Fiction
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1
TAGLINE
The
kids at school pick on Elliot Carnucci. He's overweight, looks like a geek,
makes top honors, and lives in a funeral home. Can Elliot win his fight against
the bullies, or is he doomed forever?
BLURB
The
kids at Ralph Bunche Middle School love to pick on Elliot Kravitz-Carnucci. He
struggles with his weight, looks like a geek, makes top honors, and lives above
the Carnucci Home for Funerals in South Philadelphia with his distant,
workaholic father and Nonna, his quirky, overbearing grandmother. Since his
parents divorced, he splits his time between living with his father and his
mother Rayna, who dreams of becoming the queen of commercials, on the west
coast. At the hands of his peers, Elliot experiences a series of bullying
episodes that escalate from entrapment in a school supply closet to a brutal
“swirly” (head dunk in the toilet) that lands him in the hospital emergency
room. Can Elliot win his fight against the nasty bullies, or is he doomed
forever? Read this funny, sad, and crazy book to find out.
EXCERPT
"Help—I can't
breathe—let me out. Somebody help..."
I pounded the inside of the
musty supply closet until my knuckles turned blue. Did anybody even have the
key?
What if they don't come? What
if I'm trapped here all night?
I could hear loud voices and
laughing, so I knew Kyle Canfield and one of his friends from the basketball
team were there, waiting to see if I would cave in and plead for mercy.
The bell blared. Classes
changed. Kids stampeded through the halls. Then, silence.
Finally, I heard someone
shout, "I've got the key, Doc."
"Thanks, Duke," Doc
Greely, the assistant principal, said to Mr. Boardly, the man who'd sprung me
loose.
Mr. Boardly, the head
custodian, better known as Duke, offered me his arm, and I stumbled out of the
closet. He was as thin as his mop handle, but all muscle, no flab like me. A
scruffy white beard covered half his face.
He slammed the closet door
shut and bolted the lock. "One of the hall guards reported noise coming
from this area. We came as soon as we heard."
Duke patted my shoulder.
"Let me know if I can help, Elliot." I could hear his keys clanging
as he walked down the hall humming "Duke of Earl," that old sixties
song he loved. That's where he got his
nickname.
~ *
~
"Up to their old tricks
again, Elliot?" Doc asked on the way to his office.
I figured it was a dumb
question, so I looked at the ground like I always do when an adult says
something stupid.
Doc walked beside me,
babbling nonstop. "As I said when they pelted you with those mini pizzas
in the cafeteria, 'I'll do everything I can, but I can't be there every
minute.'"
The kids at Ralph Bunche High
School make fun of Doc because he has a belly that flops over his belt and
makes him look like he's about to have a baby. They call him "Beer Gut
Greely" behind his back.
Out of the corner of my eye,
I could see Kyle Canfield and his buddy Derek Parker smiling. "Fat
loser," one of them whispered. That was their favorite name for me, but
they loved to call me "2K," meaning two tons, so the teachers
wouldn't have a clue about what they were up to.
Doc spun around to where they
were standing. He enjoyed what he called "catching culprits in the
act," but it was too late. Kyle and Derek had already made a mad dash down
the hall.
Doc barked into his
walkie-talkie to Officer Grady, the school cop. "Pick up Canfield and
Parker in homeroom. Have the dean give them in-school suspension for three
days. Looks like they didn't learn much from those detentions we gave them last
time."
"You got it, boss,"
Grady shouted over the phone static.
I followed Doc to his office
and sank into the butt aching folding chair he reserved for kids who talked
back, cursed out teachers, or cut class. Doc leaned back in his swivel chair
and tapped the tips of his fingers together.
I read in Psychology Today how body language can
tell you what's going on in people's heads. Steepling your fingers shows you
think you're better than everybody. Doc thinks he has all the answers, especially
when it comes to my harassment issues.
When I thought Doc would
tumble over in his chair, he braced his hands on the desk and straightened up
like he had a broomstick up his butt. He pointed his finger so close to my face
I thought he'd gouge out my eye and I'd have to roam the earth like a Cyclops
for the rest of my life.
He leaned toward me, and I
could smell the stinky salami and provolone sandwich he usually ate for lunch.
"You know who can help you?"
I shrugged, knowing what his
answer would be.
"You can help you," he said, like he was giving me the secret
of the universe.
I looked at him like he was
an alien, but he didn't catch it.
"What do you have to say
about all this, Elliot?"
I shrugged my shoulders. What
did he expect me to say, that I was the big fat loser those guys always called
me?
By now the whole school knew
because they'd scribbled that name and a few others I won't mention on the
bathroom wall.
Doc squinted at me with his muddy hazel eyes. He hated
it when you didn't answer right away.
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