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Summary
Summary
Ten-year-old Nathan Abercrombie is having a really bad day. First, Shawna Lanchester, the prettiest girl in his class, doesn't invite him to her party. Then he gets picked last in gym class. Things couldn't get any worse...until he gets doused with an experimental serum that turns him into a half-dead zombie!
Nathan soon discovers that being half dead isn't all bad. He doesn't need any sleep, so he can stay up all night and play games online. He doesn't feel any pain, so there's no need to worry about Rodney the bully anymore. Still, Nathan would rather be human. Will he find a cure? Or will Nathan be half-dead forever?
Fans of David Lubar's popular Weenies short story collections--which have sold more than one million copies--will love My Rotten Life , the first of a series of hilariously rotten adventures starring Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie.
Author Notes
David Lubar created a sensation with his debut novel, Hidden Talents , an ALA Best Book for Young Adults. Thousands of kids and educators across the country have voted Hidden Talents onto over twenty state lists. David is also the author of True Talents , the sequel to Hidden Talents ; Flip , an ALA Best Book for Young Adults and a VOYA Best Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror selection; five short story collections: In the Land of the Lawn Weenies , Invasion of the Road Weenies , The Curse of the Campfire Weenies , The Battle of the Red Hot Pepper Weenies , and Attack of the Vampire Weenies ; and the Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie series. Lubar grew up in Morristown, New Jersey, and he has also lived in New Brunswick, Edison, and Piscataway, NJ, and Sacramento, CA. Besides writing, he has also worked as a video game programmer and designer. He now lives in Nazareth, Pennsylvania.
Reviews (3)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In the first book in the Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie series, fifth-grader Nathan knows what it's like to be an outcast: he sits at the Second Besters table at school with kids who "score somewhere around minus two on a popularity scale of one to ten." Then, he is doused with "Hurt-Be-Gone, the world's first all-natural, totally safe emotion killer," which turns him into an almost-zombie. Unable to sleep or feel pain, Nathan masters the toughest video game on the market and leads his school to a track meet victory by doing hundreds of pull-ups. Lubar (True Talents) entertains with a "Wouldn't it be cool if..." kind of story that kids often try to write and especially love to read. Gross-out moments abound, such as when Nathan gets a fork stuck in his nose and later watches as his thumb pops off and is almost eaten by a dog. The over-the-top narrative will appeal to readers who like their humor twisted, and might even have some wishing that they, too, could be a half-dead zombie. Maybe. Ages 8-12. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
I wish I didn't have any feelings at all, says fifth-grader Nathan after getting uninvited to a party, picked last in gym, and mocked for his marginal video game skills. He gets his wish courtesy of Hurt-Be-Gone, an experimental serum concocted by a local scientist. Only a small dose is prescribed, but when Nathan is doused with the junk he starts noticing changes. He doesn't get tired. He no longer needs to breathe. These attributes come with certain advantages, and soon he and his friends the buffoonish Mookie and the whip-smart Abigail are enjoying the benefits of a new popularity. Of course, there are downsides too (his fingers are falling off and any food he eats just sits in his stomach and rots), so the trio begins gathering the rare ingredients for a last-ditch cure. Lubar has a fine time inventing gross-outs, but he also knows how to incorporate believable character motivation and work the heck out of a metaphor. It appears inevitable that a sequel shall rise from the grave.--Kraus, Daniel Copyright 2009 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 3-6-Fifth-grader Nathan Abercrombie has more problems than just being unathletic and unpopular. After a particularly grueling day, he is convinced by outcast Abigail to try a new remedy developed by her scientist uncle called Hurt-Be-Gone, which kills emotions. When Nathan is inadvertently doused in the substance, he becomes partially dead. He no longer needs to eat, breathe, or sleep, and he doesn't feel any pain. With Abigail's uncle on the lam from the police, Nathan has only Abigail and his friend Mookie to restore him back to life before the remedy takes full effect, making him permanently dead. The first book in a promising new series introduces likable characters beset by unusual but humorous circumstances. The gross-out factor-Nathan gets a fork jammed through his nose, loses a thumb, and pulls off a little finger-will appeal to reluctant readers. This book will have a large following.-Beth Cuddy, Seward Elementary School, Auburn, NY (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter One Ouch It's no fun having your heart ripped from your body, slammed to the floor, and stomped into a puddle of quivering red mush. It's even less fun when it happens three times in one afternoon. First, Shawna Lanchester pranced up to me at lunch and said, "Did you know I'm having a Halloween party next Friday, Nathan?" She clutched her hands together like she was in danger of exploding from excitement. I nodded, but I kept my mouth shut. I really didn't want to risk spraying Shawna with ketchup-coated hamburger particles. Girls are really weird about food once it's been chewed even a little bit. Especially girls who dress like they're about to pose for a magazine cover. I knew about the party. The whole planet knew. Or, at least, the whole fifth grade. Shawna had a big Halloween party every year. I'd never been invited. Nobody at our table had ever been invited. I'd bet nobody at our table had ever talked with Shawna, either, even though we'd been in school together since kindergarten. I was making all sorts of history. Shawna bounced on her heels. Her light-brown hair danced off her tanned shoulders. "Guess what?" "Mmmmwwwtt?" That's how what sounds if you keep your lips pressed together when you talk. I tore my dull brown eyes away from Shawna's dazzling green ones just long enough to prove to myself what I'd suspected. Everyone was watching me. Mookie, Adam, Denali, and the other Second Besters at our pathetic table under the leak in the cafeteria ceiling were all staring at me like I'd just won the lottery, or the Super Bowl. To my right, at least half the nerds had looked up from their chessboards, handheld games, and dungeon maps. To my left, the kids stuck at the Table of the Doomed were watching. Snail Girl--I didn't even know her real name--was staring at me over the top of her Sammy the Snail lunch box. As always, she was dressed in one of her endless snail shirts and wearing snail hair clips. Ferdinand Zweeler flinched when I caught his eye. Ferdinand was so frightened of everything, he should have been named Feardinand. Even weird Abigail, who came here last year from outer space--and still seems to live in deep space--had turned her head halfway in my direction. The jocks, the skaters, and everyone else at all the large rectangular tables in the cafeteria were watching. I struggled to keep from grinning in triumph. Finally, the girl I'd had a crush on since third grade had noticed me. I wondered whether it was my new spiky haircut. Or the fact that I'd grown two inches over the summer. I snuck another glance at Mookie--the only person on the planet who knew how I felt. He flashed me a thumbs-up. Shawna smiled. My heart melted. Her teeth glistened. Her eyes sparkled. Her lips moved. "You're not invited." Rip. Slam. Stomp. My heart splatted to the floor. It lay there, leaking across the tiles like a dropped scoop of raspberry sherbet. Shawna spun away, grinding the remains of my heart under her heels. I tried to ignore the giggles that burst from Cydnie, Talissa, Bekkah, Lexi, and the other girls at her table, but I had a hard time swallowing. I risked a quick glance around the cafeteria. The nerds had already gone back to slaying orcs and capturing castles. The jocks had gone back to punching one another. The Doomed were still staring. I guess it was a rare treat for them to see someone else get destroyed. "Wow, that's totally cruel." Mookie pushed his glasses back up his nose, trapping some of the longer strands of his shaggy hair under the thick plastic frame. "I wonder why she picked you?" I choked down the rest of my overchewed mouthful as I searched for an answer. "No idea. You'd think it would be enough for her to be popular, without having to crush the rest of us." I wanted to reach for my inhaler, but there was no way I was pulling it out right now. "Popularity is overrated," Mookie said. "You don't have to be popular to have lots of friends." Nobody bothered to answer him. We all knew the truth--in fifth grade, popularity was everything. As far as I could tell, part of popularity came from who you were, and part came from what you could do. Either way, the eight of us at the Second Besters table would score somewhere around minus two on a popularity scale of one to ten. We were all second best--or maybe second worst--in some way. Mookie Vetch was the second-fattest kid in the fifth grade. I was the second-skinniest boy. Adam Kessler was the second-smartest kid, Denali Sherborg was the second-funniest girl, Jenny Chung was the second-best singer, Jerome Tully was the second-messiest kid, and Armando Cadiz was a triple-threat second bester who was the second-best dresser, the second-worst chatterbox, and the second-fastest reader in class. The fattest kid, the skinniest boy, the funniest girl--they all had some kind of recognition that made them visible. Being second didn't mean anything. I guess it was sort of like being vice president. To tell the truth, Mookie wasn't all that fat, and I wasn't all that skinny. We pretty much weren't all that much of anything, except unnoticed. "Typical bullying behavior," Adam said. "She's putting you down so she can feel better about herself." "Thanks." I already knew that. Every kid who'd ever been picked on knew that. Our parents told us that. Our teachers told us that. Cute animated reptiles and vegetables on television told us that. It didn't help. "I guess right now, she feels totally great about herself," Denali said. The rest of the table laughed. I smiled, but it wasn't real. When the bell rang, Mookie and I headed for gym. We had it three times a week, together with the boys from Mr. Walpole's home base. I'm not sure who decided it would be a great idea for kids to load up on grease-coated meat and deep-fried starch, topped off with a huge bowl of butterscotch pudding, and then do sit-ups. If I ever run into that genius, he's going to get kicked real hard in the stomach. Not that violence solves anything. "Move it!" Mr. Lomux screamed as our class shuffled out the gym door toward the track. "We can't afford to waste time." Blue veins, like tiny candy worms, bulged on his shaved head. "Seven?" I asked Mookie. He squinted and started counting on his fingers. "I see eight." "Oh, man--that's bad." We could always tell how angry Mr. Lomux was by counting veins. "I've never seen more than six." That was way back in third grade, when he'd made us do too many jumping jacks during a heat wave and half the class puked on the gym floor. "I think he's stressed about field day," Mookie said. "I heard that the school board is threatening to transfer him to the lower elementary school if he loses again." Our school, Belgosi Upper Elementary, had a big competition each year against Perrin Hall Academy in Hurston Lakes. The entire fifth grade of each school competed. They'd beaten us six times in a row. Hurston Lakes whomps our butts at everything. They have three elementary schools and at least five private schools. East Craven is one of the smallest towns in New Jersey. All we have is Belgosi Upper and Borloff Lower. People keep moving out of town. Dad said it's all because of money. People who have a lot move to Hurston Lakes. People who want to spend less move across the river to Pennsylvania. Either way, people are leaving. Ours is the smallest fifth grade ever, with 144 kids in six classes. "I need four captains," Mr. Lomux said. "We're going to break up into teams to practice." A bunch of hands shot up. "Pick me! Pick me!" Mookie screamed, waving his arms like he was trying to flag down an airplane. A ninth vein appeared. I didn't bother raising my hand. We're all supposed to get a chance to be a captain. But Mr. Lomux mostly picks the same sort of kids over and over. Today he picked Mort Ivanson, who's really fast; Rodney Mullasco, who's really big; and the Decker twins, who are the stars of the basketball team. The four of them studied us like shoppers searching for the best melon in the supermarket. As their eyes flickered past me, I realized there was something much worse than not getting to be a captain. I imagined myself standing alone on the edge of the field, watching everyone else join a team. Don't let me be picked last. Not today, when I was still waiting for my heart to crawl from the cafeteria floor and back through the gaping hole in my chest. I tried to catch Mort's eye. He was the nicest of the four, and the only one I'd ever hung out with--even though it was way back in second grade. He looked at me and smiled. This was great. Maybe I'd be picked first for a change. That would help save this from being a totally rotten day. The captains began making their picks. Mort pointed at me. I started to trot over to join him. Things were finally going my way. Excerpted from MY ROTTEN LIFE by David Lubar Copyright (c) 2009 by David Lubar Published in August 2009 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher. Excerpted from My Rotten Life by David Lubar All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
